Douglas remained torn about whether or not to acknowledge Harry as family.
He replayed every move Dumbledore had made this past year, piecing together the clues. The pattern was hard to ignore: Dumbledore seemed intent on nudging him to protect Harry. Especially after Douglas published that article about the Half-Blood Prince, and with Harry's Parseltongue incident thrown into the mix.
Whenever Douglas got involved in Harry's affairs, Dumbledore would simply step back, letting things unfold without the slightest sign he intended to mentor Harry himself. Instead, he left the decisions to Douglas—as if he were deliberately fostering a bond between the two.
Protecting Harry wasn't something Douglas minded. After all, as a professor, it was his duty to keep his students safe…
But wait—Douglas caught himself overthinking. At this point in time, Dumbledore hadn't found the Resurrection Stone, Voldemort showed no hint of returning, and Sirius Black was still a wanted man.
If things went according to canon, destroying Voldemort's Horcruxes would require Harry's death.
So was Dumbledore trying to make up for Harry's lack of family by nudging Douglas into the role?
But that didn't quite add up. According to what Douglas remembered, Dumbledore's plan was to train Harry to shoulder responsibility and face death with open eyes. But if Douglas got involved, even if Harry became willing to die, did Dumbledore really think Douglas would just stand by and let it happen?
Possession.
The word flashed through Douglas's mind as he glanced at his own books lining the shelves.
No one had ever witnessed what happened when a soul latched onto a living person. But some dark magic research suggested that a soul could replace another person's consciousness—the Imperius Curse was said to be developed from that very principle.
Did Dumbledore assume that because Douglas had written about this, he understood possession better than anyone?
Was he hoping Douglas could remove the soul fragment from Harry—or, if Voldemort tried to use Harry as a vessel for resurrection, that Douglas could save him?
Douglas found Dumbledore's riddling infuriating.
Why couldn't he just say what he meant, plainly and directly?
At his little desk, Dobby was diligently writing reading notes. Seeing Douglas's agitation, he hurried to pour him a cup of tea.
As Dobby set the tea down, Douglas shot him a sideways look.
"I told you to read and take notes. Can't you focus for once? One minute it's tea, the next it's water…"
After two weeks of Douglas's strict correction, Dobby could now tell the difference between real and pretend anger—and had finally curbed his urge to punish himself.
He crept back to his little desk and resumed reading The Principles of Scientific Management.
Dobby still didn't understand why he had to read these books. He thought even How to Win a Man's Heart Through His Stomach—that Muggle cookbook—would be more useful.
But the boss insisted. After Dobby's seventh attempt at a career plan, Douglas had even listed out more titles: The Concept of the Corporation, The Practice of Management, Management: Tasks, Responsibilities, Practices, and so on.
As he copied passages and scribbled notes, Dobby sighed softly to himself. Earning money was so hard—and not being allowed to do housework was even harder…
And so the days slipped by.
Finally, one morning, Douglas noticed a change in his system's point balance.
This inflexible system only credited points once grades were officially released to students.
Douglas suspected the system didn't trust him—not with the possibility of him fudging grades.
He skipped straight to the year-end exam results, and a single word popped into his mind: jackpot.
Sow a single grain in spring, reap ten thousand in autumn.
[Year-End Exam Results]
Outstanding: 80 students — 80,400 points
Pass (including Good & Acceptable): 295 students — 147,400 points
Fail (including Poor, Dreadful, Troll): 161 students — -48,240 points
(*Outstanding: 1,000 points per student; Pass: 500 points per student; Fail: -300 points per student.)
Douglas did the math: the year-end exam alone netted him 179,560 points.
(Hogwarts' total student body here is roughly 800, with fewer than thirty sixth- and seventh-years taking Defence Against the Dark Arts. The rest are distributed by year and house.)
A year of scraping by, and the year-end bonus was downright generous.
It was like working at a company with profit-sharing: scraping by on a couple thousand a month, then getting a year-end dividend a hundred times your salary.
For the first time, Douglas felt the system's warmth.
With nearly 180,000 points, he finally straightened his back and began to browse the system shop with abandon.
He swore to himself: if Voldemort dared interrupt his teaching, he'd beat him so badly even the Death Eaters wouldn't recognize him.
With his newfound confidence, Douglas finally made up his mind—he'd acknowledge Harry as his nephew. He wasn't planning to get rid of the Voldemort soul fragment in Harry just yet. After all, Dumbledore wasn't the only one who could nurture talent.
That day, Dobby brought Douglas the latest Daily Prophet. An article—"Ministry Employee Wins Grand Prize"—caught Douglas's eye, mostly because the black-and-white photo beside it looked so familiar.
Other than at the largest wizarding gatherings, no family in the magical world could boast such numbers.
There they were: the entire Weasley clan, nine strong, standing before a towering pyramid, all waving energetically at the camera. Douglas couldn't help but smile.
There was short, plump Mrs. Weasley; tall, balding Mr. Weasley; six sons and one daughter—all (though the photo was black and white) with flaming red hair.
Tall, awkward Ron stood in the center, his pet rat Scabbers on his shoulder, one arm around his sister Ginny.
Douglas's gaze lingered on Bill and Charlie, who were each making a peculiar hand sign—a secret gesture the three of them had invented, just in case someone was ever impersonated with Polyjuice Potion. It was their way to confirm identities.
Douglas was certain those two were signaling him.
The night after their family photo appeared in the paper, Douglas received a call from Bill in Egypt.
"Hey, old Doug, can you hear me? Ha, it's such a shame you didn't come!"
Bill's voice wasn't loud—you could tell he still wasn't used to telephones.
There were plenty of other voices in the background. Douglas could make out Mrs. Weasley shouting,
"Children, keep your voices down—one at a time!"
Douglas chatted privately with Bill for a while and told him he'd already broken the curse, though he couldn't explain exactly how. Bill quietly advised him not to spread the news just yet—better to let things play out naturally, or rumors would run wild.
Then Bill handed the phone to Charlie, and the two exchanged a few words.
Douglas had wanted to share more information and get their perspective on what Dumbledore was really up to, but with so many people around, he could only arrange to talk privately another time.
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