The Three Broomsticks was still quiet at this hour, with only a handful of patrons scattered about. Mr. Slane wasted no time, guiding Douglas straight to a private alcove that had clearly been staged for the occasion—books, quills, and a cozy lamp, all arranged to showcase the celebrated author.
Waiting there was a man with meticulously combed, silver-streaked hair. He stood, extending a hand with a warm, knowing smile.
"Good afternoon, Professor Holmes.
E. Limus, reporter and columnist for the Daily Prophet.
Though perhaps today I ought to call you the 'Banana-Loving Honey Badger' instead—after all, this interview is all about your literary side..."
Douglas stared, momentarily stunned. He hadn't expected Mr. Slane to secure such a renowned journalist for his exclusive interview.
"Merlin's socks—I never imagined you'd be the one conducting this interview!
Your Forgotten Ancient Magic and Spells was a tremendous help to me!"
E. Limus chuckled, his eyes twinkling.
"I suspected as much. Not only have you read my book, but your insights into ancient magic go even deeper than what I managed to compile.
I've been eager to meet the mysterious author everyone talks about, but it seems Mr. Slane has been guarding your identity as if afraid I'd steal you away!
Wouldn't tell me a thing... Ha!"
Mr. Slane simply grinned and said nothing, content to observe and perhaps pick up a few tricks from the seasoned reporter.
With Limus, Douglas's respect was genuine. He wasn't just offering polite flattery—the man's work truly had been invaluable. In his early days, searching for magical perspectives that fit the modern wizarding world, Douglas had pored over many ancient treatises. Most were far too technical for a first-year to digest, but Forgotten Ancient Magic and Spells became his foundational reference.
(Author: E. Limus, reporter and columnist for the Daily Prophet. The book is a dense compendium of obscure spells and magical history, its tiny print and tightly packed pages requiring close study. Percy once spotted a copy in Professor Holmes's office while delivering mail.)
With their shared passion for magical lore, the interview quickly turned into a lively, wide-ranging conversation. What was meant to be two hours stretched into the afternoon. They never left the booth for lunch, instead splitting two bottles of Holmes Wine as they discussed everything from wizarding to Muggle culture, from British traditions to global curiosities, from spells to gourmet food.
One would raise a topic, the other would run with it, their banter so natural that onlookers could have sworn they were old friends or even contemporaries.
At last, the photographer's gentle cough reminded them of the world outside. Mr. Limus reluctantly brought the interview to a close so they could take a few photographs.
Before leaving, Limus leaned in and whispered, beaming,
"Douglas, trust me—tomorrow, you'll be front page news!
You're a rare find—a true writer!
Frankly, you're miles ahead of that Lockhart fellow. I've interviewed him before—nothing but bluster and empty words.
His grasp of magic is so shallow, I honestly doubt whether he wrote any of those books himself.
And the way he tries to undermine your reputation, as if no one can see through his childish tricks—hmph!
Honestly, if you weren't the Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor, you'd be more than qualified to teach Ancient Runes or Charms!
But I'm certain, from now on, you'll outshine him in every way!"
Douglas simply smiled, saying nothing.
When they finally emerged from the booth, they were greeted by chaos.
The pub was packed to bursting—inside, outside, and even at the windows. Madam Rosmerta flitted from table to table like a brightly colored butterfly, barely keeping up with the crowd.
"Banana-Loving Honey Badger!"
"Hey, Douglas, do you remember me? I'm Alina from Ravenclaw—we had Herbology together!"
"Hmph! I'm Hufflepuff! Hi, Senior Douglas, you invited me to the orchard, remember?"
"Professor Holmes, my child's a third-year Ravenclaw..."
Everywhere he looked, familiar faces called out—old classmates, underclassmen, parents of students. To Douglas's horror, nearly everyone clutched at least one of his books. Through the window, he even spotted someone lugging a full set.
Madam Rosmerta squeezed through the throng, exasperated.
"Don't look at me—I didn't summon them. I think some Hogwarts students saw you leave the castle and followed you here..."
Mr. Limus laughed.
"You'd better get used to this, my friend. If you ever hold a book signing, it'll be even more overwhelming than this!"
During their earlier chat, Douglas had learned that Silent Publishing Company was planning a joint signing event with the Daily Prophet. For now, though, he could only put on a brave face, greet everyone, and set up a makeshift table to sign for the eager fans.
Of course, a few students had slipped in as well—Douglas confiscated their books on the spot, warning them not to let reading interfere with their studies. They could reclaim them after exams.
The alumni, whether or not their children attended Hogwarts, all applauded him. The ones who'd graduated just a few years earlier were the most enthusiastic—after all, they'd grown up reading his stories, sometimes binging through the night and earning detentions from their Heads of House for falling asleep in class.
...
By the time Douglas returned from Hogsmeade to Hogwarts, night had fallen.
Entering the Great Hall, he found it still bustling with students. Three houses were locked in animated discussion, while the Slytherins sat apart, exuding smugness and casting disdainful looks at the others.
Douglas massaged his temples, already guessing the reason.
Thanks to Slytherin's early spot in the schedule, most of their third years had already passed this week's practical lesson—more than all the other houses put together. Some were even boasting that Slytherin would be the only house with every student passing Professor Holmes's practical class.
He had to admit, a bit of thanks was due to Slytherin's Head of House, Professor Snape, for a tiny bit of "help."
Who would have thought a Potions Master would just happen to drop a detailed recipe for an obscure Strength Potion while patrolling the common room?
A few Slytherins, with family connections, quickly gathered the ingredients.
By the time Douglas noticed, three students had already cleared the challenge using the potion.
What could he do?
He'd only anticipated students using spell-based methods—rare, but he knew at least three ways to boost one's strength via magic. For that, he'd deliberately hidden a third passage: if anyone tried such spells, he'd open it to increase the difficulty.
But he'd never considered someone using a potion for extra strength.
So, his detection spells didn't cover potions.
By the time he realized, three Slytherins had already succeeded. Raising the difficulty now would look like he was targeting Slytherin.
In the end, he begrudgingly awarded Slytherin ten points, commending them for finding a loophole.
And so, his plan to use the practical lessons to emphasize the importance of physical fitness—and to pave the way for future morning exercise classes—had been thoroughly derailed.
He'd even brought the potion recipe to Snape to complain,
"You shouldn't be giving your students extra help during my lessons."
Snape just shrugged, feigning innocence. "It was an accident. I'd never interfere with another professor's methods."
Then, with a sly smile, "Heh. You know nothing of the greatness of Potions!"
What could Douglas say? He could only laugh it off.
"Heh, I'm the Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor, after all!"
He had to admit—he'd underestimated Potions, just as he always had. Even though he'd earned an O in school, he'd never regretted not taking Advanced Potions. For him, when danger struck, your own magic and strength mattered most. Potions only helped if you'd prepared in advance—or as a last resort.
And now, his old Potions professor had taught him a lesson:
In the magical world, you can afford to ignore some things, but never be caught off guard.
For fairness, Douglas scrapped the hidden third passage altogether. If students from other houses managed to get their hands on helpful potions or spells, he'd treat them the same.
After all, the point was for students to learn to use everything at their disposal in practice.
As Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor, that was a win in his book.
But next time, he wouldn't make it so easy to exploit loopholes.
Whenever Douglas recalled how smug he'd looked in the observation room—so sure he could handle any trick the students tried—he couldn't help but blush.
Thank Merlin the students didn't know.
Otherwise, he'd never live it down.
What Douglas didn't realize was that, after Slytherin's Head of House lent a helping hand...
the other Heads of House couldn't resist joining in either.
After all, among the four Heads, who didn't have a secret weapon or two?
There was no way they'd let Slytherin hog all the glory!
~~~❃❃~~~~~~~~❃❃~~~
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