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

Upon hearing Hermione's question, Douglas Holmes shook his head and nodded toward Professor McGonagall, who was just then leading the new first-years into the Great Hall.

"I'm afraid that's a question only Professor McGonagall, as Head of Gryffindor House, can answer, Miss Granger," he said with a gentle smile.

Seeing the first-years entering, Percy gave Hermione's shoulder a reassuring pat before hurrying back to the Gryffindor table. The Sorting Ceremony was about to begin—even if he was anxious, this was no time to trouble the professors. Besides, Professor Snape had already gone to look for Ron and Harry. Snape might not be the friendliest to Gryffindors, but he never shirked his responsibilities as a Hogwarts professor. Still, Percy trusted Dumbledore and Douglas most of all. Since Dumbledore had become Headmaster, not a single student had come to harm.

Hermione bit her lip and followed Percy back to her seat.

Dumbledore watched Douglas with an amused glint in his eyes, smiling.

"Douglas, it seems you're as popular as ever…"

Professor Sprout, sitting nearby, gave him an aunt-like smile.

Douglas rolled his eyes at the two mischievous elders.

"That's only because I ran into the Weasleys and Grangers in Diagon Alley yesterday and we all had dinner together. That's why Miss Granger instinctively turned to me."

Back at school, Douglas had been the subject of many a young witch's affections. One Christmas, someone had even slipped him a small cake laced with Amortentia. If he hadn't absentmindedly gifted it to Dumbledore as a Christmas present, he might have fallen for it himself. As for whether Dumbledore was affected… Well, it was Dumbledore who later told him about the love potion. Afterward, during one opening ceremony, Dumbledore had made a point of reminding students not to use potions on each other without teacher supervision.

The Sorting Ceremony soon began.

Professor McGonagall called the first-years to the center of the four long tables. In that moment, they were the stars of the show. Hundreds of faces, pale as lanterns under the flickering candlelight, watched them in anticipation. Amidst their nervousness, McGonagall, as always, set a four-legged stool before them and placed a battered, patched, and very dirty pointed wizard's hat on top.

The Sorting Hat, as ever, had its own way of making an entrance.

I don't know what I'm supposed to say,

My name is the Sorting Hat—hey!

I know I'm patched and a little bit worn,

But wisdom, you see, is how I was born.

I say Gryffindor, you say brave,

I say Ravenclaw, you say wise,

I say Slytherin, you say sly,

I say Hufflepuff, you say loyal—no lies!

The students at all four House tables erupted in excited shouts, echoing the Sorting Hat's call-and-response. Douglas couldn't help but look surprised—he'd thought the Sorting Hat would have reverted to its old style after he graduated. He remembered, back when he'd first been called to the Headmaster's office, teaching the Hat a bit of unorthodox rap. Who would have guessed the Hat would take such a liking to it? Even the usually stern Professor McGonagall had objected at first, but with Dumbledore's indulgence, the Hat's antics had become tradition. After Douglas was once late to Transfiguration and got two weeks' detention, McGonagall never tried to stop the Hat's performances again.

Watching the bewildered first-years in the center of the hall, the second-years grinned knowingly—they'd all worn the same stunned expressions last year.

When the song ended, thunderous applause filled the hall. The Gryffindor twins even led the whistling. The Sorting Hat bowed deeply to each table before falling still.

Professor McGonagall stepped forward, scroll of parchment in hand.

"When I call your name, come put on the Hat, sit on the stool, and await your Sorting," she announced.

As the ceremony proceeded in its usual orderly fashion, Douglas suddenly spotted two small heads peeking in through a window—by the flickering candlelight, he recognized the missing Harry Potter and Ron Weasley. Behind them, a long-haired man with a distinctly sinister smile appeared.

Douglas raised his goblet in a silent toast toward the window, drawing curious glances from the other teachers.

"Severus?" someone muttered.

A little earlier…

After a disastrous crash landing and a narrow escape beneath the Whomping Willow, Harry and Ron were dragging their battered trunks up the grassy slope toward Hogwarts Castle. Their grand entrance was nothing like they'd imagined—every limb ached, and they were cold to the bone.

Approaching the entrance, Ron dropped his broken trunk at the foot of the steps and hurried to a brightly lit window.

"The feast has already started. Hey—Harry, look, they're doing the Sorting!

We missed the Hat's song—what a shame! I was hoping to shout along with the older students this year..."

Harry Potter joined him, equally disappointed, and the two of them peered through the window at the Great Hall.

Just as they wondered aloud why Snape wasn't at the staff table, a cold voice sliced through the night behind them.

"Perhaps he's waiting to hear why you two didn't take the school train!"

Both boys spun around, trembling. There stood Severus Snape, black robes billowing in the wind, a strange smile on his face.

At that moment, Snape glanced up and caught sight of Douglas, who was raising his goblet in a silent toast from the staff table. Snape's face darkened, and he let out a frosty snort.

"You two! With me!"

He swept his robes and strode off toward the dungeons. Harry and Ron followed, shivering, casting one last longing look back at the warm, bright Great Hall—maybe the last time they'd ever see it, they thought gloomily.

Before the Sorting Ceremony ended, Professor Snape returned to his seat and whispered urgently in Dumbledore's ear.

When the ceremony concluded, Albus Dumbledore stood up. Though he looked ancient, he radiated energy and joy, arms spread wide as if this were his favorite day of the year.

"Welcome! Welcome, everyone, to another year at Hogwarts.

Before the feast begins, I have some happy news to share…

This year, I am delighted to welcome a new member to our staff.

This is Professor Holmes—a rare soul indeed, one of the few in many years to voluntarily apply for the Defense Against the Dark Arts position…"

Douglas rose and gave a polite nod to the hall. Instantly, thunderous applause erupted—first from the older Hufflepuffs and Gryffindors, then, after a moment's hesitation, from the upper-year Ravenclaws and Slytherins as well, though some looked less than thrilled. The younger students, unsure what was happening, simply followed suit.

At the staff table, only Snape looked as if he'd swallowed a doxy.

When the applause finally faded, Dumbledore smiled.

"Well, I think that covers the important announcements. Let the feast begin!"

Suddenly, the golden plates and goblets on the four long tables brimmed with food and drink.

Douglas glanced over the students' tables and nodded in satisfaction.

Professor Sprout leaned over, smiling.

"Even though you've graduated, the school kept your culinary suggestions. These dishes are a Hogwarts specialty now. Some old wizarding families have even sent their house-elves here to learn how to make them."

As they chatted, Dumbledore, Professor McGonagall, and Snape had quietly slipped away from the table.

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