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

After leaving Professor McGonagall's office, Douglas flagged down a passing Hufflepuff in the Great Hall for directions, then made his way toward the greenhouses at the back of the castle.

Outside Greenhouse One was a ring of dyer's broom, its golden flowers shimmering in the sun. The plant's pollen was mildly narcotic—inhale too much, and you'd be so giddy you might pass out on the spot.

Inside, Professor Sprout was elbow-deep in a tangle of vines when she spotted Douglas slipping through the door.

"Oh, Merlin's beard, Douglas! Do you want me to hang a sign at the entrance—'No Entry for Douglas Holmes'? This batch of cranberries is for Madam Pomfrey—she needs them for a potion to treat stomach upsets!"

She hurried over, all but dragging Douglas back to the threshold, as if every step he took was a threat to her precious plants.

Douglas just grinned, wiped the berries in his hand on his sleeve, and popped them into his mouth without a second thought.

Professor Sprout shot him a look of exasperated fondness.

"You know those berries can be poisonous, don't you?"

Douglas shrugged, pride in his voice.

"Come on, Professor, you know who trained me. Cranberries have all sorts of medicinal uses—especially good for your eyes."

Professor Sprout cut him off with a wave.

"Well, at least you haven't forgotten everything you learned after graduation. Still, I'd rather you remembered more than just what's edible. Now, what brings you here?"

Douglas glanced around to make sure they were alone, then leaned in and lowered his voice.

"Professor, I want to sponsor a set of Nimbus 2001s for our house Quidditch team…"

Professor Sprout gave him a puzzled look.

"You want to buy seven Nimbus 2001s for Hufflepuff? Since when do you care about the Quidditch team, Douglas? Not that it's a bad thing, but why all the secrecy?"

Douglas winked.

"Trade secrets, Professor. If the other houses catch wind we've got new brooms, they'll just copy us."

Professor Sprout eyed him with open skepticism.

"Oh, please. You think I don't know? Cedric came running to me at lunch—apparently, Slytherin's got a 'secret weapon' too. And what do you know, it's also Nimbus 2001s… But do you really have that many Galleons? I heard you've been living in the Muggle world, and Gringotts is pretty strict about exchanging large amounts of Muggle money."

Douglas nodded quickly.

"I've got plenty stashed away in the wizarding world. More than enough for a few brooms."

He knew all too well about Gringotts' rules:

Muggles couldn't exchange money at Gringotts at all.Muggle-born Hogwarts students could exchange a limited amount each year.Adult wizards had to prove a legitimate Muggle income, and even then, they couldn't exchange more than a thousand Galleons per year. Gringotts used all sorts of magical contracts to sniff out dodgy transactions.Wizards could convert wizard gold to Muggle money freely.

That third rule was the real shield—keeping the Muggle economy from flooding the wizarding world.

The truth was, most wizards who struggled in the magical world fared even worse in the Muggle one—unless they swallowed their pride, learned a whole new set of skills, and found a job. And who wanted to admit seven years at Hogwarts had been for nothing? Manual labor in the Muggle world was even less appealing.

Professor Sprout studied Douglas for a long moment, then seemed to relax.

"All right, we'll do it your way. Just consider it compensation for… certain past incidents. Have the brooms delivered to my office, and I'll handle the arrangements. If that's all, you can go now. And Douglas—try not to haunt the greenhouses unless you have to! You're a professor now, not a student. Maybe act like it."

She turned to go, leaving Douglas standing there, dumbfounded.

That's it?

Compensation?

As she disappeared into the greenhouse, Professor Sprout called back,

"Wait a moment!"

Douglas perked up—maybe she was going to reward him after all?

A moment later, she returned carrying a basket.

"Madam Pomfrey won't need all these cranberries. Take some with you. Consider it a thank-you for your contribution to Hufflepuff. If you really like them, I'll have some planted in the orchard."

With that, she left Douglas holding the basket.

He couldn't help but wonder why Professor Sprout hadn't thought to give him an honorary alumni medal or something. No wonder so few graduates ever donated to Hogwarts…

Wait a minute.

As Douglas walked back, basket in hand, a realization struck him.

Most of Hogwarts' funding came from the Board of Governors. For a Muggle-born wizard to suddenly donate a batch of brooms—wasn't that stepping on the toes of all twelve board members?

A chill ran down his spine.

Now he understood why Professor Sprout had called it "compensation" instead of "sponsorship," and why she hadn't made any fuss about rewarding him. If she hadn't handled it that way, he'd probably be facing a flood of complaints from parents by morning.

All in the name of "what's best for the students," they might even force Dumbledore to sack him. (The Board could only hire or fire the headmaster; teachers were the headmaster's domain.)

After all, the Board didn't want anyone bypassing them to sponsor Hogwarts.

Douglas returned to his office, still a little shaken. Getting fired over something like this would be the height of absurdity.

The first thing he did was pour himself a cup of tea to steady his nerves.

Soon after, Professor McGonagall stopped by to invite Douglas for afternoon tea at The Three Broomsticks in Hogsmeade the next day. Hearing several Hogwarts professors would be there, Douglas agreed at once.

After Professor McGonagall left, Douglas couldn't help thinking of the graceful, ever-enchanting Madam Rosmerta.

After all, who hasn't dreamed in their youth?

What boy's heart hasn't harbored a secret longing?

~~~❃❃~~~~~~~~❃❃~~~

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