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

An hour slipped by in no time.

Harry and Ron picked up their notebooks once again, ready for another round of dictation.

George and Fred exchanged a conspiratorial grin, then strode over to Douglas with their notebooks in hand.

"Professor, we've finished today's dictation."

"Professor, can we read for a bit now?"

Lifting the Muffling Charm, Douglas eyed their notebooks with a cold smirk.

"Well, well, you two certainly know your way around cheating, don't you? Managing to keep your error rate at exactly twenty percent."

That remark left the twins utterly gobsmacked. They stared at each other, flabbergasted. How? They'd been watching Douglas's every move through the inkwell's reflection the entire time—surely he hadn't caught on?

And they'd even shown their work to Douglas midway, hoping that if they were caught, they'd at least get away with memorizing less.

They shot a look at Ron and Harry, who were clearly enjoying the show. The boys, barely suppressing their laughter, quickly shook their heads and looked away when caught.

With a sharp smack!, Douglas tossed the notebooks back onto the desk in front of the twins. With a wave of his wand, the office door swung open.

He said icily,

"You two—take your notebooks and stand outside my office. You'll recite until you've memorized it all. When you're ready, dictate right there at the door."

George and Fred stood frozen, wide-eyed. This was definitely a step up from last time. Still, they counted themselves lucky it was nighttime and the corridors were nearly empty. At least they'd be spared the embarrassment of a crowd.

Dejected, they shuffled toward the door.

Douglas slapped the desk again.

"Leave the cheat sheets! Planning to keep up the act?"

The twins obediently peeled the cheat-sheet sleeves off their cuffs and placed them on Douglas's desk.

Once outside, both instinctively stood to the left of the doorway.

George whispered,

"Fred, did you get spotted while copying?"

Fred shot him a look.

"No way! I was careful. Clearly, you're the one who got caught!"

At that moment, Douglas's voice thundered from the office:

"What are you two muttering about? One on each side of the door! Next time you cheat, I'll have you stand at the school gates and let the whole of Hogsmeade see your talent! And Harry, Ron, what are you two laughing at? I wasn't talking about you!"

Bang! The door slammed shut, plunging the corridor into silence.

The twins pulled faces at the closed door, then dutifully stationed themselves on either side. By the torchlight, they began to recite.

Suddenly, a shadowy figure appeared in midair before them—a male dwarf with wild black hair poking out from beneath a tall hat. His eyes gleamed with mischief as he fixed the twins with a wicked stare.

Then, splitting his mouth into a manic grin, he cackled softly:

"Tsk, tsk! Peeves heard everything. Cheating, are we? Such excellent students! Warriors daring to challenge the devil—Peeves is impressed! Hee-hee!"

With a flourish, Peeves doffed his hat and bowed.

George and Fred exchanged a glance.

"The devil?"

"Peeves, are you calling Professor Holmes the devil?"

The twins were genuinely shocked. They'd never heard Peeves use that title for anyone. He was a notorious bully, always picking on the weak, and while he might use polite titles to a professor's face, behind their backs he usually stuck to mean-spirited nicknames.

At that moment, Douglas's voice boomed through the door again:

"Are you two fasting? Don't you need your voices to memorize?"

Whoosh! With a flicker, Peeves vanished on the spot.

The twins snapped to attention, grabbed their notebooks, and started reciting at the top of their lungs.

The quiet corridor echoed with their voices, bouncing off the stone walls in a chorus of overlapping sound. Finding the effect amusing, the twins turned it into a contest—one raising his pitch, the other going even higher.

Their noisy duel soon caught the attention of students in neighboring corridors, who strained to see who could be making such a racket.

Mrs. Norris, ever the vigilant patrol-cat, darted off toward the eighth floor—no doubt to fetch Mr. Filch.

The twins noticed her, but only raised their voices further. After all, they had explicit orders to recite loudly in the corridor tonight—let Filch try and punish them for "making noise after hours" this time!

But before Filch could arrive, the door to Professor McGonagall's office swung open.

"Mr. Weasley, what on earth are you doing? Gryffindor will lose—"

Before she could finish, George and Fred answered in unison, brimming with excitement:

"Professor, we're memorizing!"

"Yes, Professor, Professor Holmes told us to recite out here!"

Professor McGonagall frowned,

"Then keep your voices down. Shouting won't help you memorize."

She made a mental note to have a word with Douglas the next morning—what was he thinking, having students recite in the corridors at night? The September weather in the Scottish Highlands was hardly forgiving, especially after dark.

As soon as she left, the twins lowered their voices a little—not so much because of her warning, but because their throats were starting to ache from all the shouting.

Just as Professor McGonagall turned to go, Peeves reappeared, flashing a wicked grin at the twins. Then, with a rare note of respect, he addressed her:

"Oh, esteemed Deputy Headmistress, you've been tricked by those two nasty little brats. I heard it all—they're being punished for cheating..."

Before Peeves could finish, Professor McGonagall's voice rang out, incredulous:

"Cheating? Mr. Weasley, is what Peeves says true?"

Now it was George and Fred's turn to be stunned. Why would Peeves tattle on them? They'd always gotten along reasonably well—he'd even teamed up with them a few times against Filch.

Then realization dawned. They looked at each other and groaned.

"Dungbombs!"

Last term, they'd promised Peeves a fresh supply of Dungbombs after the holidays. But their plans had gone awry before they could deliver, and the whole lot had been confiscated. They'd simply forgotten.

Seeing them speechless, Professor McGonagall waited until the moving staircase aligned, then strode toward Douglas's office. Peeves trailed behind, pulling faces at the twins as he went.

Inside the Defence Against the Dark Arts office, Ron crept up to Douglas, waving a hand in front of his eyes.

Douglas lifted the spell from his ears.

"What is it?"

Ron spoke carefully,

"Professor, you said to let you know if things outside went quiet."

Only then did Douglas realize George and Fred had started slacking off again. He waved Ron back to his seat to resume dictation, then rose, determined to give those two a proper lesson on what it meant to be a model student.

Harry whispered to Ron, "You actually squealed? They're your own brothers!"

Ron glanced at the rising Douglas and replied,

"I thought I heard Professor McGonagall shouting. If we don't warn Professor Holmes now and she storms in, we're both toast. If she finds out George and Fred were cheating and we knew but didn't say anything—think about the consequences..."

The thought of being punished by association made Harry give Ron a big thumbs up.

"Ron, you're brilliant—thinking that far ahead!"

Ron snorted with pride.

If you'd been grounded by your mum for "knowing but not telling" as many times as I have, you'd think of it too.

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