With a casual flick of his wand, Douglas transfigured a few roadside pebbles into stone chairs and turned to address the students who had failed the exam.
"Look at your results. I think it's time you did some serious self-reflection.
For the rest of this lesson, I want you to find the sections in your textbooks that correspond to your mistakes on the test, and memorize them. Any questions?"
The students shook their heads at once, shuffling over to the stone chairs and sitting down as meekly as mice.
Douglas gave a cold snort, clearly displeased. "Who said you could sit? Down on your stomachs—analyze exactly where you went wrong this time. Out of the entire third year, only you lot managed to fail..."
The more Douglas spoke, the more irritated he became. Even Neville, who was always mocked for his poor memory and love of rote learning, had managed a "Good" this time. Yet among all of third year, only Hufflepuff turned out a handful of failures. How could he not be annoyed?
While Douglas was lecturing the underperformers, Ernie Macmillan in the crowd just couldn't keep his mouth shut.
"I knew it would be like this."
"Professor Holmes never disappoints."
"I've got some inside info about this practical lesson..."
Justin Finch-Fletchley, the class representative, tried to hush him several times. Ernie would promise to behave, only to start up again moments later, completely ignoring whether anyone was listening.
Finally, Hannah Abbott—driven to the edge by his constant chatter—snapped, "Shut up!"
Ernie, ever the dramatist, turned to Justin and declared, "Oh, dearest Class Rep Finch-Fletchley, Hannah's trying to steal your job!"
Justin growled back, "Shut up!"—and immediately felt much better. Living with Ernie's endless commentary was… exhausting.
Douglas, still scolding the failing students, heard the commotion and didn't even need to look up. "Mr. Macmillan, if you have something to say, why don't you come up here and say it?"
At once, the tall Ernie Macmillan clamped his mouth shut, lowered his head, and started fiddling nervously with his robes—a gesture that drew snickers from those around him.
Ernie, a scion of an old wizarding family, always fancied himself an authority among his peers, basking in his self-appointed status as unofficial leader. He wanted to know everything, especially loved a bit of gossip, and though he could be rather pompous, he never missed a single rumor drifting through the castle. As Douglas liked to put it, he was a born busybody.
His grades were excellent—probably the best in Hufflepuff this year—but he was far too gullible, always believing the latest rumor, which was exactly why Douglas refused to let him be class rep.
Instead, the job went to Justin, who came from upper-class Muggle society and had a knack for handling people—a useful trait for keeping Ernie in check.
Douglas turned to the students who had passed. "Leave your bags and books here for them to look after. Everyone else, follow me to the starting line."
He shot Ernie a glare—if not for his "Outstanding" on the exam, Douglas would have found an excuse to give him a real lesson.
He led the group to the start of the obstacle course.
The students eyed the pitted, stony ground in confusion, whispering among themselves.
Ernie, unable to stop himself, piped up, "There are loads of magical traps here—I snuck over to check it out earlier…"
Douglas strode over, fixing Ernie with a look. "Mr. Macmillan, would you like to come up front and give the lecture?"
Ernie instantly fell silent, pulling the ostrich routine once more.
Douglas rolled his eyes at him before addressing the class. "This obstacle course was designed especially for you by Professor Lupin. In magical duels, you'll face all sorts of terrain, so you need to adapt your combat style accordingly.
Of course, this is mostly for upper years. For you lot, your spell repertoire is limited, and your defensive magic isn't much better. So you'll need to use your environment to survive—or escape."
The word "escape" set off a fresh round of murmurs.
Douglas's voice turned icy. "What's the matter—does the word 'escape' offend you? Would you prefer I call it a 'tactical withdrawal' to soothe your fragile egos?
When you're up against a dangerous wizard, your best defense isn't to point your wand and start flinging spells. It's to find a way to call for help—immediately. I don't want my students charging in blindly when they know they're outmatched. Live to fight another day. You're still young..."
Hannah Abbott raised her hand. "Professor, do you think we'll actually face danger in the future? Like… Black?"
Douglas just gave her a mysterious smile, offering no explanation, and continued demonstrating how the obstacle course worked.
Hannah's question—and Douglas's reaction—sparked a flurry of speculation among the Charon Detective Society members in the group. The club's internal theories all pointed to a high likelihood that Black would try to sneak into Hogwarts. As to who he might target, opinions varied.
No matter which theory you believed, aside from a few upper years, nobody really wanted to face Black head-on.
But Professor Holmes's preparations made their imaginations run wild. After all, Harry was his cousin—maybe the Professor really did have inside info, and this whole setup was meant to prepare them for Black's arrival.
When he finished, Douglas didn't send the students off to run just yet. Instead, he produced a small prop—a mouse.
"Your task is simple: catch this alchemical mouse while navigating the various obstacles and magical traps on the course.
You may use any spells you know. Don't worry about hurting it—once your magic reaches a certain level, it'll react just like a normal mouse and stop moving.
Any questions? If not, we'll start with Hannah Abbott."
Hannah stepped forward, and the rest of the class had no objections.
The starting line was a patch of loose gravel—uncomfortable to run on, but seemingly harmless.
When Douglas released the mouse, it acted just like any ordinary rodent—standing up, giving Hannah a cheeky look, then darting off down the course.
Hannah quickly drew her wand and fired off a Leg-Locker Curse, but her aim and timing were off. By the time her spell flew, the mouse had already scampered onto a stone ahead, pausing to glance back at her. Beneath the rock, a crab cactus swayed gently in the breeze, making it look as if the mouse was mocking her.
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