At noon, Douglas shared lunch in his office with Sirius and Dobby.
He split the five hundred Galleons that Dobby had brought back, giving half to the elf. Under Douglas's gentle insistence, Dobby accepted the gift with tears in his eyes.
But those 250 gold coins barely had time to warm in Dobby's hands before Wangcai whisked them away—every last one. Dobby simply beamed, watching his friend's antics. Perhaps, in Dobby's heart, Wangcai now ranked even above his boss or even Harry himself.
Sirius scoffed at Douglas's generosity, but after a moment's hesitation, he said,
"Douglas, could you lend me a few Galleons? I want to get Remus a present."
Douglas, still eating, looked up in surprise.
"I'd have thought you'd buy something for Harry first."
Sirius shook his head, a shadow passing over his face.
"Harry still has you as his godfather. Remus… he has nothing left. I've already let him down—twice. Once you clear my name, I'll pay you back, with interest."
Douglas nodded and met Sirius's gaze.
"I don't need you to pay me back. But if you ever make it back to Grimmauld Place, I'd like to pick out a few things from the house."
Sirius grinned and waved a hand.
"Take whatever you like!"
—
That afternoon, lessons continued with theory exams. Douglas noticed the same simmering resentment on the faces of the fourth-year Gryffindors and third-year Ravenclaws.
The first-year Hufflepuffs didn't sit for exams—but they got their first real taste of Holmes's "pep talks."
They'd spent the night swapping stories about this legendary Hufflepuff alumnus. They learned what it meant to pull an all-nighter to finish homework, and spent the day listening to upper-year students fret about the opening exams.
When their turn came, they were told to recite from the textbook.
For little witches and wizards just entering the magical world, it was bewildering. This wasn't what the older students had promised! They'd said Defence Against the Dark Arts was all about battling weird magical creatures—no one mentioned you had to memorize the textbook before you could see any monsters.
Thirty students turned up for sixth-year Defence Against the Dark Arts—probably the largest class in over a decade. This year, Douglas hadn't required an "Outstanding" on the O.W.L.S.—just good grades as usual.
The sixth years skipped the opening exam. Instead, Douglas opened with a lesson on the Patronus Charm.
A few students who'd helped drive off Dementors on the Hogwarts Express whispered among themselves: was this because of the Dementors? They remembered—the first Patronus on the train had been cast by Professor Holmes. With Dementors stationed at the castle, he was making this spell a priority.
Those who already knew the Patronus Charm were asked to coach the beginners. Meanwhile, Douglas taught everyone some advanced applications—how to channel the positive energy of the Patronus to neutralize certain types of dark magic.
At one point, Douglas demonstrated a variant of the Patronus Charm, filling the classroom with a shimmering white mist.
Students found themselves enveloped in fog, their spirits inexplicably light. Whenever they tried to cast a curse or hex, they simply couldn't muster the malice. What's more, under the influence of the mist, their success rate with the Patronus Charm soared.
Douglas smiled and explained:
"The Patronus Charm is one of the most powerful defensive spells. As you all know, it's ancient and mysterious—summoning a magical guardian that embodies your most positive emotions.
Casting a Patronus is no small feat. Many witches and wizards never manage to produce a full, corporeal guardian. Most often, it takes the form of the animal you feel the deepest kinship with.
In truth, even conjuring a non-corporeal Patronus is considered a mark of advanced magical ability.
But here's the thing—too many people focus solely on producing a corporeal guardian and forget that the heart of the spell is positive emotion itself.
So, I've developed a few new spells that draw on the same principles as the Patronus Charm. While they're not as effective as a true Patronus against Dementors or Lethifolds, they can be very useful against dark wizards.
The spell I just used—I call it the Patronus Charm: Mist of Diminished Malice.
Cast it, and for a full minute, your opponent will be unable to launch effective dark magic attacks. A word of caution, though—it's especially effective on ordinary dark wizards, but advanced practitioners are much harder to influence."
These techniques weren't found in any textbook—they were Douglas's own inventions. Just as Dumbledore had once taught the Order of the Phoenix to use a Patronus to send messages, Douglas had his own signature skills.
He had high hopes for this year's students. Their foundation in Defence Against the Dark Arts was rock-solid after last year's training. Truth be told, if they graduated today, their skills would rival those of most former seventh years.
—
After classes, Douglas sat in his office grading summer homework.
Sirius, in his dog form, sprawled by the window, gazing out at the castle grounds, lost in thought.
Wangcai swam happily through a sea of real and fake Galleons in the treasure basin.
Dobby was still working on his new essay assignment—he was finally starting to understand his boss's intentions. All those management books weren't for nothing, after all.
The peaceful afternoon was suddenly interrupted by a flurry of urgent knocks.
Dobby set down his quill and hurried to the door.
Sirius hopped down from the window, doing his best impression of an ordinary dog.
When the door opened, Dobby's delighted voice rang out:
"Harry Potter! Boss, it's Harry Potter! Dobby is so happy—it's been two days since Dobby last saw Harry Potter..."
Harry was just about to greet Douglas when he realized it was Dobby who'd opened the door. He blinked in surprise, then quickly said,
"Good afternoon, Dobby. I'm here to see my great-uncle. Uh, why's Padfoot here too...?"
Peering through the gap between Dobby's ears, Harry spotted the large black dog in the room—and instantly remembered that morning's Divination lesson.
Professor Trelawney's voice echoed in his mind. Even though Professor McGonagall had dismissed it as one of Trelawney's signature theatrics, seeing Padfoot again sent a chill down Harry's spine:
"That great, spectral black dog haunting the graveyard! My dear child, it is an omen—the worst omen—of death!"
But as Harry thought about it, Padfoot wasn't really all that sinister—just a bit brooding at times. He even recalled once when Padfoot had tugged at his sleeve, trying to coax him onto his back for a ride...
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