Chapter 32: Hidden Talents at Hogwarts
Douglas cleared his throat and spoke in a serious tone.
"Professor, do you ever feel overwhelmed during class?"
"Do the students often grow irritated or frustrated?"
"Do they talk about you behind your back, saying you're too strict… that your classroom feels suffocating?"
Snape's already pale face darkened further.
Douglas hurriedly continued before the Potions master could erupt.
"Of course, they don't understand the effort you put in. And naturally, you don't care what they think."
"But if a classroom safety system existed, the students would have to memorize it."
"Then they would understand exactly why they were wrong whenever they made a mistake—without you having to repeat the explanation every time."
He gestured thoughtfully.
"You could also appoint assistants to help during practical sessions."
"They could deal with minor emergencies while students are brewing."
Snape narrowed his eyes.
"Assistants? Like the class representatives you assign everywhere?"
A faint mocking tone crept into his voice.
"What do you think Potions is? Something accomplished with a casual wave of a wand?"
Before Snape could continue, Douglas interrupted. He had no desire to listen to the man's famous sharp tongue.
"Professor Snape, you simply need to make better use of available resources."
"The assistants don't have to come from the same class. Sixth- and seventh-years don't all choose Potions, after all."
"And advanced potion brewing doesn't require constant supervision."
"You could create a rotating schedule."
"Each assistant could help for a short period during the day."
"It would actually benefit them as well."
Douglas spoke earnestly.
"In the future, they'll inevitably face emergencies while brewing potions. With experience, they won't panic."
"They'll also learn something valuable—sometimes a potion fails not because of a spell, but because of the smallest mistake in preparation."
Snape listened silently.
After a moment, he gave a slight nod.
Then he said bluntly,
"Hmph. Since when does someone who hasn't even studied Advanced Potion Making get to lecture in the Potions classroom?"
"Close the door behind you when you leave."
Douglas froze.
His face darkened.
He hadn't expected Snape to be quite that ruthless.
As if I chose not to study it, Douglas thought bitterly.
Someone was clearly afraid I'd surpass him in Potions and blocked my enrollment.
He felt thoroughly wronged.
He was a professor now, after all.
But at Hogwarts, every one of the current professors had taught him for years.
Five years.
Seven years.
What could he do?
Naturally, he lowered his head and accepted it.
One day, Douglas thought.
After I've taught here for five or six years…
Then I'll start calling them by their first names.
Albus. Severus. Minerva. Filius. Pomona…
He paused.
Actually, perhaps I should still call Professor Sprout "Professor."
Back in the Corridors
When Douglas walked out of the basement, the castle corridors were bustling with students.
Several students greeted him enthusiastically as they passed.
Douglas's mood immediately brightened.
What innocent children, he thought warmly.
I almost feel guilty knowing I've just added another thing they'll have to memorize in Potions.
If the students ever realized he had helped create that new requirement, surely they would appreciate it.
After all, if they simply followed the safety rules, they could avoid becoming targets of Professor Snape's more vicious temper.
And Douglas hadn't suggested the idea on impulse.
The system also evaluated teachers at the end of the year.
One of the awards was for the most beloved teacher.
Interestingly, the score wasn't determined by students' opinions.
Instead, it depended on how much other professors approved of your teaching methods.
In the Office
Back in his office, Douglas opened the system panel.
After a week of relentless work, he finally checked the points he had earned.
He had taught thirty-five classes that week.
Student Satisfaction
20 classes scored 9 or above → 40 points
11 classes scored 8–9 → 10 points
4 classes scored below 8 → 4 points
Assignment Completion
8 classes scored 9 or above → 0 points
22 classes scored 8–9 → 20 points
5 classes scored below 8 → 4 points
Student Progress
12 classes scored 9 or above → 20 points
15 classes scored 8–9 → 10 points
8 classes scored below 8 → 6 points
Classroom Activity
…
Douglas stopped reading.
"The road ahead is long and arduous…" he muttered.
"…What was the next line again?"
He leaned back in his chair.
Thirty-five classes a week still felt too few.
If Hogwarts students were to become true top students, he would have to accelerate the pace.
Morning reading sessions.
Morning exercise classes.
Evening study halls.
Everything would have to be arranged.
Everything for the children.
Just as Douglas was reflecting on his noble ambitions, someone knocked on the office door.
"Come in," he called.
The door opened.
Standing outside were Fred and George Weasley.
"Professor, we're ready to recite the textbook!"
"Yes, Professor! We didn't sleep at all last night—we spent the whole time memorizing it!"
Douglas slowly looked the two of them up and down.
They appeared confident.
Very confident.
He calmly took out two thick notebooks.
Raising an eyebrow, he said,
"I never realized Hogwarts was hiding such extraordinary talent."
"Very well."
"Write it down for me."
Fred and George exchanged confused glances.
"Are you a dragon?"
"Are you a phoenix?"
They shook their heads in unison.
BANG!
Douglas slammed his hand on the desk.
A professor had to maintain authority.
"What are you staring at?"
"Do you expect the answers to appear on your faces?"
"Start writing!"
The twins exchanged another glance.
A silent realization passed between them.
Why didn't we think of that?
Moments later they approached the desk, each taking a quill from the pen holder.
Fred glanced cautiously toward Douglas, who was brewing tea nearby.
Then he quietly signaled to George.
With a swift motion, they replaced the ordinary quills with automatic-answer quills.
They had borrowed them from classmates—and with the help of an older student, loaded the entire fourth-year Defense Against the Dark Arts textbook into the quills.
The swap complete, the twins grinned at each other.
Then they began writing.
Or rather—
The quills wrote on their own.
To make the performance convincing, the twins occasionally paused as though recalling the material.
Sometimes they shook their hands, pretending they were sore from writing.
They even frowned thoughtfully at times.
In short, they looked extremely diligent.
Meanwhile, the quills never stopped moving.
Douglas appeared not to notice.
He sat calmly at the tea table, sipping tea and grading sixth-year homework.
Minute by minute, time passed.
Eventually Douglas glanced at the clock.
He set aside his papers.
"Let me see what you've written."
The twins nearly jumped.
"Of course, Professor!"
"No problem at all!"
They exchanged confident smiles.
Strutting over to the tea table, they handed him their notebooks.
Douglas flipped through the pages.
A faint, disdainful smile appeared on his face.
He had known these two would try something.
He closed both notebooks calmly.
Then he took a sip of tea.
Looking at the still-grinning twins, he said casually,
"What are you waiting for?"
"Hurry up and recite it."
"George, you first."
"…What?"
The smiles vanished from the twins' faces instantly.
They looked utterly miserable.
After all—
The professor had never mentioned anything about reciting it out loud
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