London, Douglas's study.
Harry Potter felt thoroughly deceived.
The desk before him was made of some dark wood that gave off an ancient woody fragrance, and its surface was large enough to serve as a single bed.
But now, instead of a comfortable duvet, that bed held a mountain of parchment, thick textbooks, and assorted reference materials.
"A thrilling, exciting mission."
Harry repeated the words expressionlessly to a copy of the Medieval History of Magic thicker than a brick. They were almost the exact words his maternal cousin Douglas had used when inviting him to join.
"Definitely exciting."
He tossed his quill onto the desk with a soft tap.
"He gets to handle the thrilling part, while I get to handle the exciting part here."
So exciting.
The essay Professor Snape had assigned on "The evolution of moonstone's molecular structure in calming draughts" had to be a full three feet long.
Harry strongly suspected that Snape's only pleasure in marking this assignment would be measuring it with a ruler to see whether it was long enough.
Professor McGonagall's Transfiguration essay was even more outrageous. Its title was "On the potential influence of biological instincts on the stability of transfiguration when transforming animals into inorganic objects."
Harry did not even know how to spell "biological instincts."
Worst of all, there was no Ron here to complain with, nor any Hermione to provide crucial help.
Facing a mountain of knowledge alone brought a despair even heavier than facing a Dementor.
"Mr. Potter, would you like a cup of invigorating nettle tea?"
A squeaky voice suddenly sounded beside him. Dobby had appeared silently, carrying a silver tray.
Five different crystal glasses stood on the tray, containing plain water, pumpkin juice, lemonade, mead, and that steaming cup of nettle tea.
"Thanks, Dobby. Just water."