Douglas brought Crabbe out of the passage and released both him and Theodore from the Full Body-Bind Curse.
Theodore stood in the corner, silent, his eyes dark with hatred and resentment.
Crabbe, on the other hand, still looked shaken and pale.
With a gentle smile, Douglas produced a bar of chocolate and offered it to Crabbe.
"Have a bit of chocolate—it'll help calm your nerves and lift your spirits."
He turned to Nott.
"Would you like some as well, Mr. Nott?"
Crabbe hesitated only a moment before grabbing the chocolate and stuffing it into his mouth.
A muffled "Thanks," barely distinguishable from the sound of chewing, escaped his lips.
If Douglas hadn't had keen ears, he might not have caught it at all.
Almost immediately, Crabbe seemed to relax, whether from the chocolate's magic or simply the comfort of eating.
Theodore wavered, then shook his head in refusal.
Douglas didn't press the matter. He tucked the chocolate away, catching the wistful look in Crabbe's eyes.
He couldn't help but smile to himself—still just children, after all.
"Mr. Vincent Crabbe, you performed admirably in today's practical lesson. Five points to Slytherin!
Mr. Theodore Nott, for misuse of dark magic during class—Slytherin loses five points."
A collective gasp rippled through the room. No one could quite believe that Crabbe had actually earned points—most stared at him as if he had grown a second head.
Crabbe grinned from ear to ear. It was the first time he'd ever been rewarded in class—Professor Holmes really was a good bloke.
He shot Theodore a triumphant look.
Theodore, already scowling over his lost points, turned positively thunderous at Crabbe's smugness.
If the professor weren't present, he'd have hexed Crabbe into next week.
Douglas glanced at Theodore, noting that the boy seemed unsurprised by the deduction. He asked mildly,
"So, Mr. Nott, you do understand the consequences of recklessly casting advanced dark magic?"
Theodore kept his face stony and said nothing.
He knew the risks—of course he did. But he'd figured that if he succeeded and doused the flames quickly, no one would ever know what spell he'd used in that pitch-black tunnel.
He was the first to enter, and after being hauled out, he'd been left standing in the corner, never noticing the spell-tracking map on the wall...
If not for his cousin's repeated warnings to show proper respect to this Muggle-born professor, he'd have stormed out already—the points were already lost, after all.
Douglas saw the attitude, but let it go.
He was well aware that many Slytherins resented his Muggle background.
He'd sensed it in his very first lesson.
Later, when setting up the advanced practical classroom, he hadn't used any dangerous dark magic himself, but he'd guided the seventh-years on where to place various curses and, more importantly, taught them how to break them.
Many of his counter-curses weren't in any textbook—these were solutions Douglas had developed through deep study and experience.
The effortless way he handled even the darkest spells, as if they held no secrets, had earned him a grudging respect from the older students—especially those who'd once looked down on him, but now found themselves outclassed.
But what truly won over Slytherin was something far simpler.
During those lessons, the Lumos he cast so casually made those who'd spent years practicing dark magic in secret feel deeply uneasy—like creatures of the night suddenly blinded by daylight.
They came to the conclusion that this young professor, barely older than themselves, must be exceptionally powerful.
After a conversation between the Head Boy and Professor Snape, word spread:
No Slytherin was to show disrespect to this Muggle-born professor.
...
But enough digression—back to the matter at hand.
After observing Theodore's reaction, Douglas addressed the class:
"I know most of you have, in one way or another, learned about or even practiced a bit of dark magic—whether from your elders or from books.
Don't be nervous.
As your Defence Against the Dark Arts professor, I don't object to your curiosity.
Knowing dark magic doesn't make you a dark wizard, and dark magic itself isn't inherently evil.
But perhaps no one has ever explained what reckless use of dark magic—especially advanced dark magic—can do to you..."
At this, Malfoy hesitated, then raised his hand.
"Professor, my father says dark magic is powerful—it keeps you from being bullied, and earns you respect..."
Douglas remembered the original tales of Lucius Malfoy—not a strong duelist, whether one-on-one or in a crowd.
Yet, through cunning and shrewdness, he'd become one of the most successful men in the wizarding world.
Perhaps Lucius had always wished for real power, so life wouldn't be such a struggle.
Other Slytherins nodded in agreement with Malfoy.
To them, only strength commanded respect. Why else did the older students get to boss them around? Because they were stronger, of course...
Douglas nodded.
"You're not wrong. The destructive power of dark magic is seductive—it's easy to lose yourself in it and forget the toll it takes on you.
Some of you may be confused about this—though, truthfully, it's a topic for your fourth year.
But I don't mind giving you a little preview, to keep you from making dangerous mistakes.
Why do so many in the wizarding world oppose dark magic? Is it just because they fear its power?
No. It's because using dark magic damages your health—body and soul. The more powerful the spell, the greater the cost.
Let's be honest: you all pride yourselves on your noble pure-blood heritage.
I doubt any of you wish to end up deranged, wild-eyed, irritable, filthy, even bald, or missing parts of your face—like some ghastly creature.
And the consequences of dark magic aren't something you can fix with a potion.
Don't believe me?
Has anyone here ever visited Knockturn Alley?
You must have seen the state of the dark wizards there.
Is that really what you want for your future?
And as far as I know, there's a certain dark wizard who, after years of skulking through forests, sewers, and abandoned ruins, ended up with no nose, not a hair left on his body, and a constant, creepy giggle for company..."
Draco Malfoy ran a hand through his perfectly styled hair, making a face.
"No hair at all? Wouldn't that make him... an egg?"
Douglas struggled to keep a straight face.
"Exactly—a boiled egg! Just like the ones you see at breakfast here at Hogwarts—smooth, shiny, and absolutely no nose.
If you ever get the chance to meet him, show off your flawless faces and thick, beautiful hair—and then call him a boiled egg.
I'm sure Slytherin's courage is every bit as strong as Gryffindor's...
Just remember, after you say it—run."
The entire class burst into laughter at the image.
Douglas noticed Theodore, still in the corner, unconsciously touch his nose, then his hair.
He looked genuinely unsettled—was his hair already thinning?
He remembered finding two stray hairs on his pillow just days ago. Was it from practicing Incendio in secret?
His thoughts even drifted to his father, old Mr. Nott...
Truth be told, most Slytherins were blessed with good looks.
But after Douglas's little speech, those who'd dabbled in dark magic began to worry about their appearance.
Some even recalled that their Death Eater relatives did have a few of the symptoms Professor Holmes described.
Of course, Douglas wasn't about to tell them that not all dark magic was equally harmful.
Nor did he believe his words alone would keep Slytherin from producing dark wizards in the future.
He simply wanted to plant a seed—a warning that dark magic comes at a cost.
Whether that seed would ever sprout was anyone's guess.
Still, he couldn't help but look forward to the day these Slytherins might actually meet Voldemort...
Seeing the class lost in thought, Douglas clapped his hands.
"If you're truly interested in dark magic, I suggest you wait until fourth year—when you're old enough to really understand what you're getting into.
The earlier you mess with these things, the greater the risk to your health.
Now, let's get back to today's lesson..."
~~~❃❃~~~~~~~~❃❃~~~
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