After some careful questioning, Douglas confirmed that the version the Weasley twins had heard wasn't the original rumor—it had already been twisted by the time they caught wind of it, since they'd come back late. Still, he could be certain that the very first version had come from Ron and Harry.
Piecing together key details from the various versions swirling around the school, Douglas deduced that the diary was definitely somewhere inside Hogwarts. Even better, his earlier maneuvers had clearly rattled the other side—he could feel it.
One thing was certain: whoever Voldemort had chosen as his pawn was not a lower-year student. If memory served, the diary Horcrux's resurrection required draining life force. After days of observation, none of the younger students showed any unusual symptoms—their stamina varied, but nothing stood out.
Douglas pulled out the Marauder's Map, tapped it with his wand, and spread it across the table. Only then did he notice just how many students were still scattered about the castle's classrooms.
He rubbed his temples. How could he have forgotten? Today was the first day of the new Magical Practice Study Hall program. By the looks of it, the turnout was good.
He quickly checked the Scholar Development System panel; since he wasn't an official tutor for these sessions, the self-study hours didn't count toward his teaching metrics. Not that it mattered—he had bigger concerns tonight.
His gaze locked on the section of the map showing the girls' bathroom where the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets lay hidden. He watched, waiting to see if any students might enter or leave.
Perhaps, with the twins around earlier, he'd felt too self-conscious to use the Marauder's Map—didn't want them thinking their professor was some sort of creep, spying on students all day. But now? Well, with rumors already painting him as the school's resident big boss, what was there left to worry about?
As for punishing the rumor-mongers… Harry and Ron had already run out of punishments to give. Besides, Douglas wasn't the type to hold a grudge.
So he sat at his tea table, humming a tune and tapping out a rhythm with his fingers, all the while keeping a hawk's eye on the Marauder's Map.
His humming and drumming did nothing to soothe the nerves of George and Fred, who were already on edge. They desperately wanted to ask him to quiet down, but didn't dare—after all, they still had a favor to request.
After a while, when they were sure Douglas's attention was elsewhere, old habits resurfaced. They "accidentally" spilled some ink onto the table, then each placed their wands horizontally atop their notebooks.
George gripped his wand with his left hand. Instantly, the spilled ink twisted and reformed into a sentence:
"The Professor's been watching the Marauder's Map—is he trying to catch someone?"
Fred read it, then did the same:
"Probably. The rumor-spreaders are getting out of hand, but I think he's…"
Ink running low, he waited for George to finish reading before writing again: "Catching pure-bloods!"
It had to be said—the Weasley twins learned fast when something caught their interest. They'd picked up this ink-morphing trick during a detention, after watching Douglas use it. When they'd asked, he'd explained the basics without hesitation.
With enough practice, they'd mastered simple ink transformations. To make it silent and precise, they'd even blended in a bit of Revealing Charm theory. They couldn't manage large-scale writing like Douglas, but it was enough for covert table-top chats—limited only by how much ink they had.
Back and forth they went, chatting with one hand while copying lines with the other, never forgetting their basic duties as students.
As George wrote, "So, is there really a monster in the castle?" the ink shifted:
"I think so!"
He followed with, "I thought so too. The Professor looks really tense. Not like he's…"
"Angry about the rumors."
Suddenly, the words on the table changed:
"Oh, is it that obvious?"
Without looking up, George scribbled, "Of course, didn't you notice the Professor tonight—"
That's when he realized something was wrong—Fred kept kicking him under the table. Looking up, he saw Fred signaling frantically with his eyes.
And then, right by his ear, came Professor Holmes's icy voice:
"What about me tonight, hmm?"
George nearly fell off his chair.
"N-nothing, Professor! You're wonderful! Absolutely wonderful!"
Douglas let out a cold snort, then gave a sinister little chuckle:
"Impressive Transfiguration. I'm sure Professor McGonagall would award you both House points for it."
The twins shrank back like startled turtles, necks pulled in, heads shaking like rattles.
Clearly, they weren't about to give up their little hobby—even for House points. If they really wanted to rack up points without limits, they could probably reveal enough secret passages at Hogwarts to earn two hundred at once—ones even Filch didn't know about.
Seeing their reaction, Douglas sighed in exasperation:
"Can't you put that cleverness to good use? If you spent as much effort on studying as you do inventing new spells, you'd be the third and fourth Weasley siblings to get all O's on your OWLs, after Percy."
George and Fred shook their heads, then—realizing their mistake—quickly nodded.
Douglas knew them too well. Turning these two into model students was harder than getting Ron to ace every subject.
He kept watch all evening, seeing the study hall students leave in groups. No one—ghosts aside—entered or exited the girls' bathroom. He did spot Peeves going in three times, no doubt to torment Moaning Myrtle.
Douglas concluded that the culprit wouldn't show up frequently now.
Before he knew it, George and Fred had spent another four hours with him. They stretched, then handed over their copied assignments for three subjects.
He glanced over their work—not bad, with error rates under twenty percent. As long as the key spellwork was right, it was nothing serious.
"See? If you'd memorized this during your free time instead of waiting until night to copy and recite, think how much time you'd save!"
Noticing their fidgeting, Douglas took a sip of tea and asked,
"What's wrong? Something else on your minds? Relax, I won't tell Professor McGonagall about your little trick. I'm not Professor Snape—as long as you don't play around in my class, I don't care what you do elsewhere."
The twins exchanged glances. At last, George—the younger brother—caved first.
"Professor, Fred wants to ask you something!"
He promptly dragged Fred forward.
Fred forced a grin, silently vowing revenge on George later.
"Heh, Professor, we were wondering if we could shift our detention time back a bit?"
He stepped back, glancing at George—your turn.
George had no choice but to add,
"Just one hour, Professor. You know the study hall doesn't close until eight. We've already applied to Professor McGonagall for study hall supervisor status, and she's signed off. But she said only you can approve a change to our detention schedule."
Fred quickly chimed in,
"We promise we won't fall behind on our detention work. Right, George?"
"Absolutely!"
"HP: Too Late, System!"Chapter 82: Nothing Discovered
After some careful questioning, Douglas confirmed that the version the Weasley twins had heard wasn't the original rumor—it had already been twisted by the time they caught wind of it, since they'd come back late. Still, he could be certain that the very first version had come from Ron and Harry.
Piecing together key details from the various versions swirling around the school, Douglas deduced that the diary was definitely somewhere inside Hogwarts. Even better, his earlier maneuvers had clearly rattled the other side—he could feel it.
One thing was certain: whoever Voldemort had chosen as his pawn was not a lower-year student. If memory served, the diary Horcrux's resurrection required draining life force. After days of observation, none of the younger students showed any unusual symptoms—their stamina varied, but nothing stood out.
Douglas pulled out the Marauder's Map, tapped it with his wand, and spread it across the table. Only then did he notice just how many students were still scattered about the castle's classrooms.
He rubbed his temples. How could he have forgotten? Today was the first day of the new Magical Practice Study Hall program. By the looks of it, the turnout was good.
He quickly checked the Scholar Development System panel; since he wasn't an official tutor for these sessions, the self-study hours didn't count toward his teaching metrics. Not that it mattered—he had bigger concerns tonight.
His gaze locked on the section of the map showing the girls' bathroom where the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets lay hidden. He watched, waiting to see if any students might enter or leave.
Perhaps, with the twins around earlier, he'd felt too self-conscious to use the Marauder's Map—didn't want them thinking their professor was some sort of creep, spying on students all day. But now? Well, with rumors already painting him as the school's resident big boss, what was there left to worry about?
As for punishing the rumor-mongers… Harry and Ron had already run out of punishments to give. Besides, Douglas wasn't the type to hold a grudge.
So he sat at his tea table, humming a tune and tapping out a rhythm with his fingers, all the while keeping a hawk's eye on the Marauder's Map.
His humming and drumming did nothing to soothe the nerves of George and Fred, who were already on edge. They desperately wanted to ask him to quiet down, but didn't dare—after all, they still had a favor to request.
After a while, when they were sure Douglas's attention was elsewhere, old habits resurfaced. They "accidentally" spilled some ink onto the table, then each placed their wands horizontally atop their notebooks.
George gripped his wand with his left hand. Instantly, the spilled ink twisted and reformed into a sentence:
"The Professor's been watching the Marauder's Map—is he trying to catch someone?"
Fred read it, then did the same:
"Probably. The rumor-spreaders are getting out of hand, but I think he's…"
Ink running low, he waited for George to finish reading before writing again: "Catching pure-bloods!"
It had to be said—the Weasley twins learned fast when something caught their interest. They'd picked up this ink-morphing trick during a detention, after watching Douglas use it. When they'd asked, he'd explained the basics without hesitation.
With enough practice, they'd mastered simple ink transformations. To make it silent and precise, they'd even blended in a bit of Revealing Charm theory. They couldn't manage large-scale writing like Douglas, but it was enough for covert table-top chats—limited only by how much ink they had.
Back and forth they went, chatting with one hand while copying lines with the other, never forgetting their basic duties as students.
As George wrote, "So, is there really a monster in the castle?" the ink shifted:
"I think so!"
He followed with, "I thought so too. The Professor looks really tense. Not like he's…"
"Angry about the rumors."
Suddenly, the words on the table changed:
"Oh, is it that obvious?"
Without looking up, George scribbled, "Of course, didn't you notice the Professor tonight—"
That's when he realized something was wrong—Fred kept kicking him under the table. Looking up, he saw Fred signaling frantically with his eyes.
And then, right by his ear, came Professor Holmes's icy voice:
"What about me tonight, hmm?"
George nearly fell off his chair.
"N-nothing, Professor! You're wonderful! Absolutely wonderful!"
Douglas let out a cold snort, then gave a sinister little chuckle:
"Impressive Transfiguration. I'm sure Professor McGonagall would award you both House points for it."
The twins shrank back like startled turtles, necks pulled in, heads shaking like rattles.
Clearly, they weren't about to give up their little hobby—even for House points. If they really wanted to rack up points without limits, they could probably reveal enough secret passages at Hogwarts to earn two hundred at once—ones even Filch didn't know about.
Seeing their reaction, Douglas sighed in exasperation:
"Can't you put that cleverness to good use? If you spent as much effort on studying as you do inventing new spells, you'd be the third and fourth Weasley siblings to get all O's on your OWLs, after Percy."
George and Fred shook their heads, then—realizing their mistake—quickly nodded.
Douglas knew them too well. Turning these two into model students was harder than getting Ron to ace every subject.
He kept watch all evening, seeing the study hall students leave in groups. No one—ghosts aside—entered or exited the girls' bathroom. He did spot Peeves going in three times, no doubt to torment Moaning Myrtle.
Douglas concluded that the culprit wouldn't show up frequently now.
Before he knew it, George and Fred had spent another four hours with him. They stretched, then handed over their copied assignments for three subjects.
He glanced over their work—not bad, with error rates under twenty percent. As long as the key spellwork was right, it was nothing serious.
"See? If you'd memorized this during your free time instead of waiting until night to copy and recite, think how much time you'd save!"
Noticing their fidgeting, Douglas took a sip of tea and asked,
"What's wrong? Something else on your minds? Relax, I won't tell Professor McGonagall about your little trick. I'm not Professor Snape—as long as you don't play around in my class, I don't care what you do elsewhere."
The twins exchanged glances. At last, George—the younger brother—caved first.
"Professor, Fred wants to ask you something!"
He promptly dragged Fred forward.
Fred forced a grin, silently vowing revenge on George later.
"Heh, Professor, we were wondering if we could shift our detention time back a bit?"
He stepped back, glancing at George—your turn.
George had no choice but to add,
"Just one hour, Professor. You know the study hall doesn't close until eight. We've already applied to Professor McGonagall for study hall supervisor status, and she's signed off. But she said only you can approve a change to our detention schedule."
Fred quickly chimed in,
"We promise we won't fall behind on our detention work. Right, George?"
"Absolutely!"
~~~❃❃~~~~~~~~❃❃~~~
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