For the latter half of the lesson, the only sound in the classroom was the echo of Douglas's leather shoes striking the flagstones.
The sound was as regular as a metronome, beating time for the tension hanging in the air.
His shadow, like a moving sundial, swept slowly across desk after desk, precisely measuring the little time that remained.
He would stop without warning, standing behind a student like a silent statue.
His gaze seemed to have physical substance, weighing heavily on the parchment until even the tip of the quill trembled slightly.
Some students' minds even went completely blank because of it.
When the clock reached the final fifteen minutes, his voice rang out again, flat and utterly devoid of warmth, like the chime of some ancient magical clock tower.
"Attention, all examinees. You have fifteen minutes remaining."
He did not repeat himself, yet it felt more oppressive than any urging could have.
If looks could cast spells, the students facing mostly blank exam papers would probably have cast "Petrificus Totalus" at their new professor over a hundred times already.
There were a hundred questions, half of them short-answer questions requiring detailed explanations.
Some of the knowledge mixed into them could even be traced back to old textbooks from several years ago.
However skilled Ravenclaw's eagles were at soaring through the skies of knowledge, even their claws needed time to scribble away.
Before the bell signaling the end of class rang, Douglas snapped his fingers.
Every roll of parchment, finished or not, was abruptly whisked off the desks by an invisible force.
They converged in midair into a whirlwind of paper, spiraling down toward the lectern and settling into a neat stack.
Douglas clapped his hands, sending dust dancing in the shafts of light.
"This was merely an assessment of your current level. There is no need to read too much into it."
A little warmth returned to his tone.
"There will be one every month from now on. You'll get used to it."
"If you can't get used to it, we'll make it once a week!"
His gaze swept over the crowd before settling on Windsor Shirley.
"Miss Shirley, please come to my office after seven this evening."
"All right, class dismissed!"
The instant he finished speaking, a series of crisp dings sounded quietly-not in the classroom, but inside his head.
This was not the place to check the system.
He picked up the heavy stack of papers and left before the students could rise, his figure disappearing through the doorway.
Inside the classroom, Ravenclaw's young eagles looked ashen.
For a group of top students who regarded marks as a badge of honor, nothing was more torturous-the answers were in their heads, but time had already run out.
On the spiral staircase back to the common room, the two Prefects quietly drew alongside Windsor Shirley, exchanging their thoughts on the exam in low voices.
Prefects were Prefects, after all. They had already grasped the true meaning of the class representative position.
With things as they were, they could only tacitly accept this unofficial member of the student leadership.
Not far away, several girls who usually did not get along with Windsor pricked up their ears, trying to catch just how many questions Shirley had answered.
To them, the privilege of special fruit every day was an irresistible temptation.
In their eyes, Windsor Shirley had merely been lucky enough to be the first person the professor called on.
As long as their exam scores surpassed hers, replacing her would be only natural.
They busily worked out their plans, unaware that Douglas's choice had never been random.
Meanwhile, some of the more quick-witted Ravenclaws were calculating a different bargain.
They were planning how to trade this terrible news for a few sweet apples from their Hufflepuff friends during the upcoming elective classes.
After all, of Hogwarts' four houses, only Hufflepuff had after-meal fruit available to every student in the house.
The break between Defense Against Dark Magic lessons lasted only fifteen minutes.
Douglas stacked the papers neatly on his office desk and let his awareness sink into his mind.
[Top Student Development System] [Student satisfaction rating for this lesson: 6 points] [Student assignment completion rating: 0 points] [Average student progress rating: 8 points] [Class participation rating: 5 points] [...]
Douglas was not surprised by these scores.
The teaching model he had transplanted ran counter to Hogwarts' leisurely traditions.
Growing pains were a necessary part of the process.
When he stepped into the Defense Against Dark Magic classroom again, it was already packed with second-year Gryffindors.
Several students' chests were still heaving, their cheeks flushed; clearly, they had sprinted all the way there.
Douglas's gaze swept across the room before finally landing on Ron Weasley's smug face.
He saw the surrounding students' eyes darting between him and Ron, full of inquiry and curiosity.
A clear conclusion formed in his mind-Ron had already flaunted the good relationship between their families to his classmates like a trophy.
And Harry Potter and Hermione Granger had personally confirmed it.
The corners of Douglas's mouth curled into a meaningful smile.
"It seems someone has already introduced me..."
No sooner had he spoken than he caught Hermione turning her head sharply to shoot Ron a warning look.
Douglas's smile deepened as he gazed at Ron.
Since you've been so generous in publicizing our friendship, I can only honor Mrs. Weasley's request and give you... some extra attention.
"Now, who can tell me what we should do when we encounter a Boggart?"
The moment he asked the question, Hermione's arm shot straight toward the ceiling.
Douglas looked around.
The classroom was silent, with only Hermione's arm raised all alone.
He noticed several students secretly making faces at Ron and Harry, their eyes full of questions.
Didn't you say this professor was easy to get along with?
Ron subtly pressed his hand downward, then winked at them, conveying a silent message.
Standard procedure. Don't panic. A new professor always has to establish authority in his first lesson.
Beside him, Harry nodded in agreement.
Just then, an icy voice, devoid of any emotion, exploded in their ears.
"Then let's have Mr. Weasley answer."
The smile on Ron's face froze instantly, then shattered bit by bit.
He looked up and stared blankly at Douglas on the platform, his mouth slightly open.
Around him, several stifled snickers escaped.
"Professor... I..." Ron's voice trembled slightly. "I don't know... but I think Hermione definitely knows the answer!"
As he finished, his hand instinctively reached for the stool beneath him, ready to sit down.
"Did I tell you to sit down?"
Douglas's voice abruptly sharpened.
The temperature of the entire classroom seemed to drop several degrees.
He turned his gaze elsewhere.
"Mr. Potter, you answer."
Harry Potter had never expected to get caught in the crossfire.
He instinctively adjusted his glasses, as though trying to see whether the person on the platform was actually Snape in disguise using Polyjuice Potion.
He had only ever experienced this familiar sense of oppression in Potions Class.
Now Hermione raised her hand even higher, even waving it slightly to attract attention.
Douglas's eyes swept over Harry and Ron, filled with exasperation at their failure to do better.
That morning, Mrs. Weasley had written to him especially.
In her letter, she had repeatedly urged him to properly discipline these two boys who were always getting into trouble.
The letter had even mentioned that Mr. Weasley was under investigation by the Ministry of Magic.
This stirred a trace of guilt in Douglas.
After all, the central idea behind the magical modifications to that flying car had originally come from a joking suggestion of his.
Back when he had watched through the pages of a book, he had thought Harry and Ron's actions were incredibly cool.
Now that he was actually here, he realized they were simply two utterly lawless brats.
His gaze finally settled on the brown-haired girl who was eager to show what she knew.
"It seems Miss Granger is the only person in the class who prepared for the lesson."
He called on her directly.
"Then, Miss Granger, please enlighten your classmates."
Hermione stood up immediately, speaking rapidly and clearly, as though reciting rather than answering.
"A Boggart is a shape-shifting creature, Professor. It peers into your mind and turns into whatever you fear most.
"The spell used against it is Riddikulus, which forces the Boggart to take the form you find most ridiculous.
"The more people there are, the easier it is to deal with, because it becomes confused and doesn't know what to turn into."
She paused, then added.
"What truly destroys a Boggart is laughter.
"When you laugh from the heart, it bursts into a wisp of smoke and disappears completely.
"The textbook doesn't mention the details of how to cast Riddikulus..."
Douglas looked at her with some surprise, then led the applause.
He knew Hermione was a top student, but he had not known she was already this outstanding.
Boggarts were not covered in the first few chapters of the second-year textbook.
She really had memorized the material ahead of time-the entire book, at that.
P.S. In the original story, Lockhart held back the second-year Defense Against Dark Magic curriculum.
Much of what Lupin taught in third year should actually have been learned in second year.
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