Bringing Hagrid over to the front lawn, Douglas found Professor Lupin in high spirits at Hagrid's participation.
As students trickled in—clearly more than yesterday—Lupin remarked with satisfaction,
"Quite a few students signed up for this after yesterday. I never thought today's students would be so industrious. Back in my day, we'd never get up before an hour to class. If it weren't for breakfast and those shifting staircases, I reckon we'd have slept even later."
Douglas chuckled,
"The students are clever. I think they've realized that magical strength is tied, at least a little, to physical fitness. Even if morning runs don't boost their magic, at least they'll be nimble enough to dodge danger when it comes. I'll count on you to keep an eye on this—those obstacle course plans I showed you? Now's the time to put them to use."
He glanced over at Hagrid, who was chatting with Harry and his friends, then turned to Lupin with a word of warning:
"I've got other matters to attend to, so I'll leave things here to you. Please, keep a close watch on Hagrid. I know he's trustworthy, but he does have a tendency to let things slip—stop him if you must.
And Professor Lupin, don't treat this lightly. Remember, it's not that you need Hogwarts' salary—it's that this post needs you. I'd hate for you to leave over some incident and have all this work dumped back on me..."
Lupin couldn't help but feel a warm glow at Douglas's grumbling concern.
When he noticed Harry among the crowd, Lupin turned and addressed Douglas gently,
"Don't worry, I'll treasure this job.
By the way, I heard you're Harry's uncle…
No offense meant—I was friends with his father, but for various reasons, I haven't been able to see him all these years.
I heard on the Express that he spent the summer at your place. I just wanted to know how he's been in the Muggle world. Of course, with you there, I'm sure he's done well…"
Douglas could hear the tremble in Lupin's voice when he mentioned Harry's father.
He briefly recounted Harry's hardships over the years, leaving Lupin silent for a long moment.
Douglas seized the chance,
"So, he needs our help. You were his father's friend—I trust you wouldn't refuse to lend a hand when necessary?"
Lupin replied at once,
"Of course not. But what exactly do you mean by 'when necessary'?"
Douglas, glancing at the swelling crowd of students, smiled,
"Let's save that for when you have some free time—come by my office and we'll talk it over."
Lupin looked Douglas up and down, genuinely amazed at how thick-skinned someone had to be to say something like that.
Thanks to Douglas, he was now up before six every morning, leading students on a run at half past six, then supervising the magical practice study hall from eight in the morning until eight at night, followed seamlessly by detention duty from eight until eleven—weekends included.
The workload wasn't even the worst part. In the study hall, he mostly managed student prefects, occasionally offered spell advice, and kept track of practice logs; during detention, he just took attendance and made sure no one got hurt. But all told, it was exhausting—when was he supposed to find this "free time"?
Still, he nodded and swept off, not bothering to hide his exasperation.
He hadn't thought much of it at first, but the more Lupin considered it, the more aggrieved he felt. This wasn't supervising students—it was more like the students were supervising him.
—
The following week unfolded quickly.
First-year Defence Against the Dark Arts was mostly rote memorization of various dark creatures to bolster memory.
Douglas also shared little stories about these creatures in class, sparking envy among the second-years—last year, they'd just had endless recitation.
Second through sixth years focused on exams: theory first, then practicals. The more Douglas graded, the more his frustration grew.
Seventh years, as before, were assigned by Douglas to supervise the practical classrooms for younger years, maintaining magical creatures and spellwork.
With the revival of the Defence Against the Dark Arts practical classrooms, a new book began to circulate at Hogwarts: The Complete Guide to Defence Against the Dark Arts Practical Classes, packed with layouts of each classroom and strategies for clearing every stage.
Neither Douglas nor the other professors saw fit to intervene.
After all, a strategy guide was different from an answer sheet—even if you knew the tricks, you still needed the skill to execute them.
The real benefit was that students could skip endless trial and error and focus on practicing the right spells in the study hall.
The book was especially popular among third, fourth, and sixth years.
Fifth-year counter-curse content, however, came straight from the textbook—the first five years' books were all the guide you needed.
Douglas did, however, add a twist: he increased the difficulty of practicals and allowed the seventh-year supervisors to make limited improvements to the challenges, as long as they stayed within the year's syllabus.
From that day forward, seventh-years would greet the lower years with sly, knowing grins.
Draco Malfoy tore off his bandages on the second day and returned to class in high spirits. When he was re-elected as Defence Against the Dark Arts Class Representative, his grin nearly split his face in two.
On Thursday, when he was re-elected Potions Class Representative, Draco was so pleased he applauded right in front of Professor Snape—and most of Slytherin joined in.
The Gryffindors in the same class, for failing to cheer for their own, had five points docked by Snape for "lack of unity"—points charged directly to Harry Potter, who'd also been re-elected as Potions Class Rep.
Worse, when Harry failed to cheer or thank the professor for his reappointment, Snape deducted another five points for "disrespecting the Professor."
When Snape quizzed Harry on the ingredients of Shrinking Solution, Harry stood up and rattled them off without hesitation:
"Shrivelfig, daisy roots, caterpillars, wormwood, leeches, rat spleen, cowbane essence…"
Snape's face was unreadable.
"I thought you'd be influenced by certain people and just recite a shopping list… Nearly forgot—one point to Mr. Potter."
Smack!
Harry, stung by the sarcasm and the almost insulting award of a single point—not to mention knowing full well that "certain people" meant his uncle—couldn't help slamming his hand on the desk. Only a quick grab from a classmate kept him from standing up to Snape.
Even so, Harry glared defiantly back into Snape's hollow eyes, breathing hard.
Snape pretended not to notice and continued his lecture on Shrinking Solution.
But Harry's daily point deductions weren't over yet.
During the brewing, Neville misjudged his measurements and dumped in too much leech juice.
When Hermione tried to help Neville fix the mistake, Snape's voice was icy:
"I didn't ask you to show off, Miss Granger. And as Class Representative, Mr. Potter, you failed to correct Mr. Longbottom's error in time. Five points from Gryffindor!"
Neville Longbottom turned scarlet, and Harry clenched his fists, doing his best not to provoke further punishment.
Other students—including Draco Malfoy—found Snape's behavior unusually harsh this lesson.
He'd always mocked Potter and found reasons to dock points from Gryffindor, but never to this degree.
Halfway through class, he'd already deducted fifteen points—well, fourteen, since he'd "mercifully" granted Harry one.
Fortunately, Snape left Harry alone for the rest of the lesson.
But as class ended, Snape called out,
"Mr. Potter, don't forget to meet Lupin at eight tonight for your detention. And I absolutely will not allow you to leave before your time is up…"
Harry snorted. As if Professor Lupin would go easy on him—he'd tried to cozy up during morning runs, but Lupin always seemed to keep his distance.
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