It wasn't until the end of class that Douglas tossed three pieces of parchment onto the desk in front of Harry. Only then did the trio finally understand what had happened. They exchanged wry, knowing smiles.
Afterward, Douglas returned to his office and hung a magical mirror on the wall—a mirror that allowed him to monitor the classroom at any time. This was a special arrangement for Black, so he could check in on his godson every day. It was also the reason Douglas had agreed to let Harry and his friends use the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom after hours. After all, he'd already spent an entire term last year babysitting students; now that Lupin had taken over, Douglas had no intention of letting Harry report to him daily.
He shot a look of mock disdain at Sirius, who was currently sipping tea and watching Harry through the mirror. If Douglas hadn't been absolutely sure Sirius's affection for Harry was purely familial, he would never have allowed this setup.
From their conversations, Douglas could tell that Sirius kept a clear line between James and Harry. More than once, he'd heard Sirius mutter things like:
"If it were his father, he'd never have done that."
"What on earth has Harry been through all these years? Why is he nothing like James?"
Douglas had replied dryly, "Boys take after their mothers." That left Sirius speechless for ages—and after that, he never again compared Harry to James.
Leaving his office, Douglas hung a [Not In] sign on the door and headed for the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets. The girls' bathroom door had long since been concealed by magic—only those who knew the right spell could enter.
Inside, Douglas greeted Moaning Myrtle with practiced ease. "Afternoon, Myrtle. Not planning a visit to the Prefects' Bathroom today?"
Myrtle, perched atop her favorite toilet, glanced at Douglas and asked, "Oh, afternoon, Douglas. I thought the bathroom would be empty now. When will this place be open to everyone? The Headmaster said I could be a guide—students have to treat me with respect if they want my help..."
The entire layout had been transformed. Aside from the one toilet reserved for Myrtle, the rest had become a grand hall. At its center stood statues of the four Hogwarts founders, their brief histories carved into the pedestals below.
Godric Gryffindor: The brave founder, hailing from wild moors, was famed as the finest duelist of his age. He respected his opponents, championed fairness—wands against wizards, swords against Muggles. He was the one who placed the Sorting Hat at Hogwarts. After the founders' deaths, the Hat continued their legacy, sorting each new generation of students and passing on their ideals.
Helga Hufflepuff: From the broad valleys of Wales, she was renowned for her food-related charms—many Hogwarts feast traditions can be traced back to her. She valued hard work, loyalty, and inclusivity.
Rowena Ravenclaw: From tranquil riversides, she possessed unmatched wisdom and creativity. She believed, "Wit beyond measure is man's greatest treasure." Both the location and the name "Hogwarts" were her idea, inspired by a dream of a warthog leading her to a cliff by the lake. She also designed the school's ever-changing staircases.
Salazar Slytherin: The shrewd founder from the fens, who co-founded Hogwarts with his friends. Though he opposed admitting Muggle-born students, he was still a responsible and just mentor to those he taught.
Douglas stood before the statues, bowed respectfully to each, then walked behind the founders' effigies. The first time he'd come here, he'd almost felt compelled to light incense as an offering. Back when he was in Hufflepuff, he'd wanted to do just that—if only he'd had incense, Helga Hufflepuff might have been the first witch in history to receive such a tribute from a future student.
Behind the statues, a magically-sealed stone archway led further in. The surrounding walls were adorned with murals depicting the four founders as they built the school. Entry to the chamber required answering questions posed by the enchanted door—a system designed by Professor Flitwick, inspired by the bronze eagle knocker of Ravenclaw Tower. The questions drew from every current Hogwarts textbook.
Douglas thought the professors were still too conservative. If it had been up to him, he'd have turned it into a full-blown academic tournament, complete with a leaderboard. Students could pick subjects, race against the clock, and whoever answered the most questions would top the charts. Only those with the highest theoretical scores would be allowed into the corresponding challenge rooms.
Unlike Ravenclaw's door knocker, however, this enchanted door would transport you directly to the area for your chosen subject—provided you used the right spell. Of course, they couldn't let seventh-years help set up the challenges, since these would be part of their own school assessments.
Arriving at the Defence Against the Dark Arts testing ground, Douglas continued his preparations.
—
Saturday morning arrived quickly.
This term, because of Sirius and the Dementors, no one had announced when students would be allowed to visit Hogsmeade. Fortunately, the Defence Against the Dark Arts practical classrooms were open for students to enjoy on weekends—especially the fifth-year counter-curse room, which was packed.
Not only fifth-years, but also some sixth-years were there, since their own practice classroom was still being renovated and wouldn't open until the afternoon. The sixth-year students, ever eager, were more than happy to show off their counter-curse techniques to the younger students—especially the girls from their own Houses.
When the fourth-years entered their practice classroom, one student—though he'd bought the recommended booklet—was really only worried about the later stages. The first challenge was child's play; after all, last term, they'd already cleared this stage in pairs. This time, though he was alone, he was confident. To deal with the troll's stench in the second challenge, he'd even learned the Bubble-Head Charm in the magical practice room. He could only maintain it for a minute, but that would be plenty.
Compared to the calm confidence of the fourth-years, the seventh-year students hidden in the shadows—tasked with overseeing the classroom—were visibly nervous. This was their first time managing the new, improved practical classes.
The fourth-year student waded into the water with practiced caution. Thanks to last term's experience, he knew the water had been enchanted with a Swamp Curse—the more you struggled, the more it held you back. He drew his wand, eyes scanning the weeds for any sign of lurking Grindylows.
It had to be said: this year's fourth-years were a cut above last year's. Not only did they know everything about the dark creatures covered through third-year, but thanks to the magical practice room, they'd also picked up some advanced spells.
Gone were the days of kicking Grindylows in the head or waiting to be grabbed before using the Revulsion Jinx. Now, they'd learned to cast the Stunning Spell and subdue their opponents before the attack even began.
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