Douglas was deep in a blissful sleep when he suddenly heard voices calling his name.
"Professor? Professor Holmes?"
He jolted awake, snatching his wand from beside his pillow. He was certain he'd layered his room with enough protective spells to guarantee a peaceful lie-in—so how could students' voices be echoing through his office?
Wand at the ready, he hurried to the bedroom door—only to find himself staring at none other than the Golden Trio. His eyes darted to the main door, still perfectly intact. Frowning, he raised his wand and fixed it on the three.
"Good morning… Miss Granger, what's your family's license plate number? Mr. Potter, what's the name of the street next to my house?"
The trio, caught between relief and panic at finding Douglas in his pajamas, froze as the wand leveled at them. Hermione instinctively yanked Harry and Ron behind her—after all, she'd dragged them here. If anything went wrong…
But Douglas's odd questions left them all stumped.
"License plate? JDX733F," Hermione blurted.
"Professor, it's Magnolia Crescent," Harry answered quickly.
"Er, Professor, why didn't you ask me anything?" Ron piped up, a little wounded.
Satisfied with their answers, Douglas lowered his wand. He reasoned that even if someone used Polyjuice Potion or Legilimency to impersonate the trio, they'd never bother with such mundane Muggle details—especially things like license plates or neighboring streets.
He forced a reassuring smile. "Oh, sorry for startling you… No need to be so tense. Now, how did you get in? I'm quite sure I set more than a few wards on the door."
Ron looked a bit put out at being ignored.
Still wary, Hermione pointed a trembling finger at the side door leading to the classroom. "Professor… we came in through that little door. We just wanted to warn you—you're surrounded…"
Douglas blinked, following her gaze. Right. That side door—his own blind spot. He'd always used it himself, and it had slipped his mind completely when he set up the defenses.
Harry eyed the bedroom behind Douglas nervously. "Professor, are you in some kind of danger?"
Ron, eager to contribute, added, "It's already noon, so… good afternoon, Professor!"
The others stared at him. Hermione and Harry looked like they wanted to ask if that was really the point.
Douglas glanced out the window at the gloomy sky, then at the clock—nearly noon. He'd only managed five hours of sleep. He pinched his thigh, just to be sure. Not a dream.
Yawning, he flopped into a chair by the tea table. "Well then, good afternoon, ladies and gentleman. To what do I owe the pleasure of this little break-in? Surrounded, you say? I must've missed something. Is Hogwarts in some kind of danger? And really, you don't have to look so nervous. If I wanted to hurt you… well, you get the idea."
Harry burst out, "Professor, how can you be so calm? Professor McGonagall and the others have you surrounded out there, and Snape's telling everyone you're just sleeping in… But Hermione overheard them say they were going to blast open your office door, only they're worried you might escape…"
Hermione nodded, finally regaining her composure. "I just thought you couldn't possibly be the villain. Maybe you were being coerced, or in danger. I wanted to warn you before the Professors barged in…"
"I did too," Harry added quickly.
Ron nodded in agreement.
Douglas stared for a moment, then snapped his fingers—a little one-click ward release he'd built into his protective spells. Instantly, a commotion erupted outside the main door, though the thick wood muffled the details.
He hurried over and flung open the door.
Directly in front of him was a curtain of greasy black hair—and then, with a flick, Snape's sallow face appeared, wand already aimed at Douglas.
The other Professors cried out at once:
"Severus, what exactly are you doing?"
"I'm telling Dumbledore you're still working for him!"
Even the students lurking in the corridors to watch the spectacle were stunned. After more than a month, they were witnessing another showdown between Professor Snape and Professor Holmes.
Ignoring everyone else, Snape locked eyes with Douglas and demanded, "Butter, vegetable oil, chicken fat, all sorts of peppers, sugar, ginger, garlic, and Eastern wine—what potion recipe is that?"
He figured that if Douglas was really under Voldemort's control, he wouldn't give a toss about the finer points of cuisine.
Touché.
Douglas realized he'd just grilled the trio in much the same way. He answered without missing a beat, "That's part of the recipe for hot pot base. You'll also need Sichuan peppercorns, doubanjiang… Professor, don't try Legilimency on me—you know it doesn't work."
He cut off Snape's attempt at Legilimency.
Snape relaxed, lowering his wand. Then, with a sly smile, he said, "Professor, how did you know the exact hot pot base ingredients I gave the kitchen?"
Snape's expression darkened instantly.
Before he could retort, Professor Sprout pulled him aside. "Douglas, are you alright? The Dark Lord didn't do anything to you, did he?"
Professor McGonagall chimed in, "I heard Miss Lovegood from Ravenclaw gave you a diary yesterday…"
Douglas quickly ushered everyone inside.
Professor McGonagall turned, startled. "Miss Granger, Potter, Mr. Weasley—how did you end up here?"
Snape shot Harry a glare so sharp his heart skipped a beat.
Hermione hurried to explain, "Professor, we came in through the little door connecting the classroom to your office. We were just trying it out—didn't think it would actually work."
The four Heads of House exchanged glances—none of them had remembered the side door.
Professor Flitwick was the first to recover. "Ingenious thinking—well done!"
Harry piped up, curiosity getting the better of him, "Professor, were you just talking about Voldemort? And a diary—what's that about?"
Snape cut in coldly, "Mr. Potter, that's none of your concern. You found something suspicious and didn't report it? Hmph, typical…"
He didn't get to finish. Professor McGonagall silenced him with a single, piercing look.
"Severus! Miss Granger, next time you encounter something like this, report to a Professor immediately. You seem to have forgotten what happened to Mr. Weasley and Mr. Potter before term started. I recall Professor Holmes assigned you all an essay on that incident. Fortunately, nothing happened this time. But next time, you must inform the staff right away. Five points from Gryffindor. Now, I believe lunch is being served in the Great Hall. Off you go."
Harry and Ron, hearing McGonagall mention their flying car escapade again, went pale. Their detention essays still weren't finished—any more trouble and they'd be doomed. But with just five points lost, they both breathed a sigh of relief.
Douglas smiled. "In fact, I should thank these three for saving my office door from being blasted to bits. Miss Granger, Mr. Weasley, Mr. Potter—five points each."
The trio's faces lit up. "Thank you, Professor!" they chorused, and hurried out.
The atmosphere in the office was… peculiar. Douglas had awarded exactly as many points as had just been deducted.
Once outside, Harry immediately asked, "Hermione, are you sure the Professor's alright? That was about Voldemort—don't forget what happened with Quirrell last year…"
Hermione bit her lip. "Professor Holmes isn't like Quirrell. I trust him. And didn't you notice? The Heads of House trust him too."
Harry still looked anxious. "I know they're different, but it's still Voldemort! Remember—last year, everyone trusted Quirrell, and look how that turned out. And did you see Snape? He was so tense—he pointed his wand at the Professor the moment the door opened. He did the same with Quirrell last year. Of course, I hope Professor Holmes is fine—he's much better than Quirrell, and he's taught us loads of spells. But…"
Hermione almost snapped, "Harry, you're not the only one who can deal with the Dark Lord!" But she swallowed the words, knowing it would only upset him.
Ron cut in, "Will you two stop arguing? I heard someone mention the name Lovegood. The girl who brings us The Quibbler is called Lovegood, and her family lives near the Burrow. Why don't we ask her?"
Hermione frowned—she knew exactly who Ron meant. Still, she found that eccentric girl about as reliable as her family's magazine, The Quibbler.
But Harry agreed at once. "Right, it's our only lead. But where do we find her? The Ravenclaw common room? We don't know the password."
Hermione took a deep breath, steeling herself. "At this hour, let's wait in the Great Hall."
~~~~❃❃~~~~~~~~❃❃~~~~
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