HP: Too Late, System! I’m Already the DADA Professor

Hermione Granger shot him a glare. "Don't forget what Professor Holmes said. The moment we finish memorizing the textbook, that's when he'll teach us real Defence Against the Dark Arts combat techniques. I've checked—Slytherin hasn't even started classes yet. That means we've got a whole day's head start. If we memorize the material before they do, we'll be the first to learn the combat spells—and there's no way we'll let them outshine us!"

The effect was electric. Every student's eyes lit up, brimming with competitive fire. Instantly, textbooks were snatched up, and the common room erupted in a chorus of recitation.

The racket drew frowns from older students, but no one dared complain. After all, word had spread—first- and third-years had also gotten wind of the news and were quietly poring over their own books, hoping to be chosen as one of Professor Holmes's Class Representatives. The perks—like first pick of the fruit basket—were simply too tempting to ignore.

Hermione finally exhaled, relief washing over her. Percy's advice really worked. She was well aware of her own shortcomings—popularity wasn't her strong suit. So, after being appointed Class Representative by Douglas, she'd sought Percy out for guidance. Of everyone she knew, Percy had the closest connection to Douglas. She'd heard at a gathering that Percy owed much of his success as Prefect to a few management tricks Douglas had shared with him.

When Percy learned Hermione had been "recruited"—well, appointed—as a Class Representative, he was only too happy to pass along some tips.

Just then, George and Fred Weasley swooped in, throwing their arms around a very put-upon Ron as he tried to cram his textbook into his head.

"Oh, look at this—our youngest brother, Ron, is finally—"

"—following in Percy's illustrious footsteps!"

"Is this the end, George?"

"I'm afraid it is, Fred!"

Ron's face turned beet red as he struggled to shake them off.

Hermione planted her hands on her hips and barked, "George, Fred, if you're not going to study, at least don't distract Ron! Don't forget, you two are also Class Representatives—appointed by Professor Holmes!"

The twins exchanged a mischievous grin.

George clapped Fred on the shoulder. "Congratulations, brother, you're an officer now—even if you're only my deputy! Still, congrats!"

Fred leapt away. "Merlin's socks, I'm the main one—you're the deputy!"

George arched an eyebrow. Fred caught on instantly.

"Fine, we'll alternate—one day me, one day you!"

George retorted, "No, no, one day me, one day you!"

The two tumbled off, mock-wrestling into a corner.

Harry nudged Ron. "How did Mr. Holmes end up choosing those two as Class Representatives? He didn't even give them homework!"

Ron shrugged, looking resigned. "It probably has something to do with some old incident. I was too young to remember, and Percy's been bribed by those two—he won't tell me a thing."

Whack! Hermione rapped both Ron and Harry on the head with her book. "Professor Holmes has his reasons. Now get back to memorizing!"

—

In the Defence Against the Dark Arts office, by the time Meg Erin finished reciting the first section and left, it was already five forty. Douglas quickly gathered his proposal and headed for Professor McGonagall's office.

Professor McGonagall was Deputy Headmistress of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Even before Dumbledore became Headmaster, she'd been teaching Transfiguration under his leadership. Their division of labor was clear: Dumbledore, ever the international figure, was often away on official business, leaving the day-to-day running of Hogwarts in McGonagall's capable hands—a classic case of "man for the world, woman for the home."

Her office wasn't far—just between the second and third floors. As long as the moving staircases cooperated, Douglas could get there in no time.

When McGonagall, head bent over a document, looked up and saw Douglas, her face broke into a rare smile.

"Douglas, I must say, you're a natural teacher. Just now Percy was reporting to me—since your class, the lower years have been memorizing textbooks in the common room, while the upper years, apart from going to the library for homework, are all gathering around to review what they once learned. This is the first time Percy's had to deal with such a commotion—he has no idea what to do!"

Douglas smiled, settling into the chair opposite her. "I've always believed that books are the distilled wisdom of those who came before us. If we can remember those lessons, then when we put theory into practice, we'll find the path to success more quickly and with fewer mistakes. I don't want my students to one day pay for a lesson in blood, only to realize it was already written in a first-year textbook.

"Unfortunately, not every child can grasp this on their own. So as a teacher, my job is to make sure they memorize the knowledge—even if it's by force. One day, through experience, they'll internalize it naturally."

McGonagall set down her quill, folding her hands thoughtfully. "What you describe—I've seen it many times. Students unfamiliar with the textbook slow down the whole class, or upper years spend ages reinventing spells they once learned as basics. Still, I don't think rote memorization is the best way to learn magic. Magic is an extension of thought. If you box it in with rigid knowledge, you stifle creativity and the birth of new spells."

Douglas understood her point. At Hogwarts, practical teaching was king—students learned by doing, with classrooms full of magical tools and hands-on experiments. The textbook was a reference, not the heart of the lesson. Even in supplementary courses, audiovisual learning was the norm.

But this approach had its pitfalls. Many students developed strong preferences, neglecting the basics. Their grasp of theory was often shaky—just enough to scrape by. This led to a magical world where most wizards muddled through, only realizing the gaps in their knowledge when faced with real challenges at work, forcing them to relearn what they'd once skimmed over.

Douglas wasn't criticizing Hogwarts' methods. Rather, he saw that while practical skills flourished, theoretical knowledge was pushed off to after-class time—left to the students' own initiative. But how much self-discipline could you expect from eleven-year-olds? Especially when that theory was exactly what the O.W.L.s would test...

In short, Douglas had set his sights on making the most of his students' time outside the classroom.

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