Mist hung in the Hogwarts Greenhouses.
The glass dome scattered September's sunlight into fragments over strange leaves.
Professor McGonagall raised an eyebrow.
"Pomona, Mr. Holmes has already gone to the kitchens."
Her clear voice, carrying a hint of sly amusement, cut through the whispering of the plants.
Amid the fragrance of earth, a figure in a thick, patched hat crouched on the ground.
It was Professor Sprout, her fingernails packed with rich black soil.
She was carefully loosening the soil around a writhing Gurdyroot and did not even look up.
"Minerva, you're blatantly cheating."
Her muffled voice sounded as though it had grown out of the earth, carrying a barely perceptible note of grievance.
"I haven't even seen that boy Douglas yet."
Professor McGonagall shrugged elegantly, the curve of her lips deepening.
"I certainly haven't used magic to stop Hufflepuff's outstanding graduate from visiting his Head of House."
"In any case, you lost. I want half of this term's supply of seasonal fruit."
Professor Sprout gave a disgruntled huff, like a badger robbed of its nuts.
But she still gave an almost imperceptible nod.
She had thought Douglas would arrive travel-worn and come running to the Greenhouses to see her first.
Ah, graduation was like a Memory Charm.
Many children forgot their old professors as soon as they left school.
"Achoo!"
Far away in the Hogwarts Kitchens, Douglas had just sprinkled a pinch of fiery red chilli powder into a bubbling iron pot.
A loud sneeze nearly sent the spoon flying out of his hand.
"This chilli seems pretty good. Quite a kick!"
He rubbed his nose, completely unaware that an old professor's distant grumbling was responsible.
One o'clock that afternoon, in the staffroom.
When Douglas pushed open the door and entered, the professors were already seated around the enormous round table in the middle.
The dazzling array of dishes on the table gave off a mingled, enticing aroma.
Dumbledore sat at the head, his long silver-white beard almost trailing into the plate before him.
Professor McGonagall was on his left, and a sombre-faced Snape on his right.
Professor Sprout sat beside Professor McGonagall, with an empty seat next to her that had clearly been reserved for Douglas.
At the sight of Douglas, the gloom on Professor Sprout's face vanished, and she rose slowly with a gentle smile.
Douglas hurried forward and gave her a firm hug.
The embrace carried the fragrance of earth and the warmth of sunshine, bringing a little moisture to the corners of Professor Sprout's eyes.
But he did not sit down straight away.
Like a conjuror, Douglas produced a book from his shoulder bag.
Its cover was printed in a Muggle style, and its title was "Plant Hybridisation Experiments".
"Mendel, a Muggle scholar," Douglas said softly. "I thought you would like it."
Herbology in the wizarding world had seen no true innovation for centuries.
Yet Douglas felt that this lovely Herbology master's talents went far beyond that.
Professor Sprout took the book, running her fingertips over the rough paper.
She knew every word on it, yet together they seemed like some entirely new spell.
She showed no resistance at all. Instead, as though she had received the most precious dragon liver, she carefully held the book against her chest.
"Thank you, dear. This is the most fitting gift I've ever received."
Douglas smiled and took more things out of that seemingly bottomless bag.
He had prepared gifts for every professor who had taught him.
Even the newly arrived Muggle Studies professor had not been left out.
The atmosphere soon grew lively.
Even Snape, prompted by a look from Dumbledore, very reluctantly accepted a book called "Modern Laboratory Management Standards".
His lips pressed into a harsh line, but when he opened the book and saw photographs of spotless laboratories gleaming like mirrors, his page-turning fingers paused, and his gaze lingered on that page for a full three seconds.
Night fell. It was seven o'clock.
The professors walked through the corridors and entered the brightly lit school Great Hall.
The four House tables were empty, but thousands of floating candles were already making the golden plates and goblets gleam.
Dumbledore sat in the gilded chair at the centre of the dais, his face expressionless, seemingly pondering some profound puzzle.
Douglas sat beside Professor Sprout, quietly asking her for a few teaching tips.
Before he knew it, Hufflepuff's ghost, the Fat Friar, cheerfully emerged through the middle of the table and waved at Douglas.
Soon, the doors were pushed open.
Students flooded in like a tide, and their chatter instantly filled the entire hall.
Douglas's gaze swept over the young faces, many still bearing traces of childishness.
He spotted some familiar figures among them.
After all, he had graduated only three years ago, and many younger students still recognised him.
Whispers rose from the students' tables, full of surprise and curiosity.
A Hufflepuff who had graduated only three years ago had actually become a Hogwarts professor.
After all, in Douglas's year, everyone's brilliance had been overshadowed by that genius named Bill Weasley.
Douglas ignored the chatter, his gaze continuing to move.
When he looked towards the Gryffindor table, his gaze suddenly froze.
He checked again.
There was no mistake.
Among the younger students, there was no Harry Potter, nor was there a Ron Weasley.
Damn it.
A forgotten fragment of memory suddenly surfaced.
Dobby the house-elf.
The Flying Ford Anglia.
He had thought that keeping the Weasley family out of the conflict with Malfoy would prevent any further mishaps.
He had transmigrated more than twenty years ago, and the advantage of knowing what lay ahead had long since grown hazy.
The details of the original story had long since been worn patchy by the river of memory.
Just then, he noticed Percy Weasley anxiously looking towards the Ravenclaw Table.
Hermione Granger, beside him, said something to him.
The colour instantly drained from Percy's face, and he whipped his head towards the High Table.
The Weasley twins, meanwhile, were pulling faces nearby, apparently finding it all very entertaining.
Percy's gaze swept over the High Table, and he realised that neither Professor McGonagall nor Professor Snape was there.
Only then did he remember that Professor McGonagall had gone to meet the first-years.
Disappointment spread over his face.
When his eyes met Douglas's, they suddenly lit up, as though he had found a lifeline.
He rushed over at almost a run, Hermione close behind.
"Pro... Professor!" Percy's voice was distorted by anxiety. "Ron and Harry... they're missing!"
Douglas had not yet had time to speak.
A short distance away, Dumbledore gave a soft cough. It was not loud, yet it rose clearly above all the noise.
"No need to be nervous, my boy."
"I think Harry and Mr. Weasley will appear very soon. Severus has already gone to find them."
"Return to your seats. Dinner will begin shortly."
With that, he passed over a copy of the Daily Prophet lying beside him.
Professor Sprout, who sat between them, took the newspaper.
She glanced at it, then began to read softly.
"Flying Ford Anglia mystifies Muggles."
"Two Muggles in London were certain they saw an old car flying over the Post Office building..."
"At noon in Norfolk, while Mrs. Hetty Bayliss was hanging out her washing..."
"Mr. Angus Fleet of Peebles reported to the police..."
"...six or seven Muggle sightings in all..."
When she finished reading, she looked at Percy in surprise, then glanced at the composed Douglas.
Percy's face had turned as white as parchment.
He knew that his father had secretly modified this car behind the Ministry of Magic's back...
Douglas gave a gentle snap of his fingers in front of him.
The crisp sound abruptly brought Percy back to his senses.
Douglas winked at him, his tone as casual as if he were discussing the weather.
"Don't be nervous. You need to trust Headmaster Dumbledore."
"As for those things you're worried about, the adults will take care of them."
"Do as the Headmaster says and go back to your seat. Have a bit more to eat later to settle your nerves."
Hermione clenched her fists tightly, glanced nervously at Dumbledore, then turned to Douglas.
Her voice carried a slight tremor.
"Professor Holmes, will Harry and Ron... be expelled?"
P.S. The answer to the previous chapter.
Answer: A
Explanation: The iron pot's magical coating was vulnerable to scratches, so an Anti-Scratch Charm was needed when cleaning it, making option A correct; option B was incorrect, as the Wiping Charm was more efficient for pumpkin juice stains; option C was incorrect, as ordinary Scourgify could be used on silver cutlery (the Moonlight Purification Charm was for valuable silverware); option D was incorrect, as a low-strength Scourgify could be used on wooden chopping boards (to avoid warping).
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