"HP: Too Late, System!"Chapter 329: He's Your Nephew! (Cousin, Actually!)
Inside the Academic Affairs Office, the air was thick with tension.
Sirius Black sat slouched on the sofa, drumming his fingers in agitation, a thundercloud of reluctance darkening his features.
"I really don't want to deal with Slytherins. You know me, Douglas. Sure, I get that not every Slytherin's as bad as Snivellus, but just the thought of working side by side with them—ugh, it makes my skin crawl."
Douglas Holmes laced his fingers together and leaned forward, his tone patient but firm. He needed Sirius to grasp just how crucial this was.
"Sirius, I get where you're coming from. But listen—if the Academic Affairs Office is going to function, it needs members from all four houses. The reforms we're pushing touch every corner of Hogwarts. Each house has its own ways of thinking and unique strengths. Leave even one out, and half our plans will fall flat."
He paused, a mischievous glint lighting up his eyes. "And for the record, I didn't recommend you just so you could cozy up to Harry..."
A sly grin crept across Douglas's face.
"In fact, not only can't you get close to Harry, you'll have to make him a 'problem student'—put him under extra scrutiny. Otherwise, if anyone gets wind that the new Director of Academic Affairs is giving Harry special treatment, he'll be shunned by the rest of the students. You wouldn't want your godson to end up an outcast, would you?"
The words seemed to hit Sirius like a jolt of electricity. He shot up from the sofa, eyes wide in disbelief.
"Douglas—what are you on about? Make Harry a problem student? Are you mad? He's your nephew!"
Douglas shrugged. "Cousin, actually."
Sirius glared at him, indignant.
Ignoring the look, Douglas fished a banana from his pocket and peeled it slowly. Just as he was about to take a bite, Sirius snatched it away and took an angry chomp himself.
Halfway through the banana, Sirius grumbled, "I don't care. If you insist on letting Slytherins in, fine—I'll treat everyone equally. But you'll have to deal with Snivellus. If he refuses to cooperate..."
Douglas pulled out another banana, took a bite, and replied with a sigh, "It's Professor Snape. You're going to be colleagues now, so maybe show him a little respect. Don't worry, I'll talk to him myself, Director Black."
Sirius tossed the banana peel with a flourish—it landed perfectly in the bin—and snorted.
"We were classmates, you know. I'll call him Snivellus as much as I like. He's your professor, not mine. Besides, if I'd ever had the chance to apply for a teaching job at Hogwarts, you'd be calling me 'Professor Black' right now, little Douglas! Ha!"
Douglas shot Sirius a look of pure disdain and turned to leave. "In your dreams, mate!"
—
After dinner, Douglas made his way down toward the dungeons. The deeper he walked, the dimmer the corridors became, the air thick with damp and the sharp tang of potions ingredients.
He knocked lightly on a weathered door.
"Come in." The familiar voice of Professor Snape, cold as ever, drifted from within. Douglas pushed open the door and found Snape hunched over a notebook at his desk.
Glass jars lined the shelves—each filled with strange, preserved organs and herbs, glowing faintly in the gloom. The door to Snape's private storeroom was half open, revealing mountains of potion supplies stacked inside.
As Douglas's gaze lingered on the storeroom, Snape snapped his fingers and the door slammed shut with a bang.
Snape's eyes flashed dangerously as he fixed Douglas with an icy stare. "Don't even think about it."
Douglas put on his most wounded look. "Professor, that's uncalled for! Would I ever?"
Snape gave a cold snort. "Are you really going to stand there and tell me you never snuck into my storeroom during your school days?"
Douglas widened his eyes in mock outrage. "Professor, don't tarnish my good name! I never stole—I paid. Every time, I left Galleons behind, more than market price, all right?"
Snape snapped his notebook shut with a heavy thud, his tone glacial. "This is my private storeroom, not a Muggle self-service supermarket."
Douglas glanced awkwardly at the ceiling, then quickly changed the subject. "Ahem, Professor, the reason I'm here today—"
Snape cut him off with another frosty snort. "Don't think I don't know—the Academic Affairs Office was your idea. Ever since you set foot in Hogwarts, this school hasn't had a moment's peace. Where's your Hufflepuff spirit? Running around with that lot..."
Douglas blinked, feigning innocence. "Professor, how am I not a proper Hufflepuff? My improved medicinal recipes—"
Seeing Snape's hand twitch toward his wand, Douglas hurried on, "Professor, the Academic Affairs Office is happening, like it or not. Unless you take out Dumbledore and become headmaster yourself, there's no stopping it. Besides, this is a key part of Professor Dumbledore's legacy."
Snape leaned back, arms crossed, a sneer tugging at his lips. "Hmph. As if Slytherin would be intimidated by some little Academic Affairs Office."
Douglas leaned in, earnest and persuasive. "Professor, think about it. If every other house has graduates working in the Academic Affairs Office, over time, Slytherin's bound to get the short end of the stick. Wouldn't it be better to have Slytherins on the inside, working for you? That way, when student issues come up, you'll have allies. And—" He lowered his voice conspiratorially, "With Slytherins keeping an eye on things, Sirius won't dare step out of line. Wouldn't you agree?"
Snape's eyes flickered; Douglas could tell the point had landed.
But then, seeing Douglas's secretive tone, Snape's expression soured. "Running around with that lot's taught you to be sneaky, has it?"
Douglas paused, suddenly realizing it was true—his closest friends in Gryffindor did have a knack for late-night mischief.
Merlin, maybe he really had picked up some bad habits. He'd have to ask Bill for emotional damages later.
As Douglas fell silent, Snape's lips curled ever so slightly, his fingers drumming thoughtfully on the desk.
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