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

Snape stood at the corner, half-shrouded in shadow, looking every bit the sinister figure he was rumored to be.

It put Douglas instantly on guard. Snape had never liked him, not even when he was just a student. Now they were both adults, and to make matters worse, Douglas had taken the very position Snape had coveted for years—Defence Against the Dark Arts.

A sudden thought struck Douglas: what if, by the end of the year, he actually managed to break the curse on this post? Wouldn't that mean Professor Snape would never have a shot at the job again?

He nearly laughed out loud at the idea.

Professor Snape caught the strange look on Douglas's face, as if he was fighting back a grin. Snape's sallow, angular features grew even more foreboding.

A chill crawled down Douglas's neck, snapping him back to the moment.

"No need to be so polite, Professor. Heh, you know, using that level of Dark Magic—even in class—technically violates school rules. Strictly speaking, he should be expelled..."

Snape shot a glance at Dolohov and said coldly, "I'd rather he were expelled."

Dolohov shivered violently at that, looking like he wanted to sink into the floor. Ever since Slytherin lost the House Cup last term—ending their seven-year streak—Professor Snape had been forced to bow his head to Professor McGonagall more than once. Every Slytherin point was hard-won, and now this idiot had cost them fifty in one go.

The more Snape thought about it, the angrier he became. He snapped at Dolohov:

"What are you still standing here for? Want me to copy the school rules for you?"

Dolohov bolted.

Snape's thin lips twisted into a mocking smile. He turned to Douglas and said, "Come with me."

Douglas had no idea what was coming, but he followed. When they entered a classroom, the door clicked shut behind them.

The sight that greeted Douglas made him pause. There was Snape: greasy black hair, hooked nose, sallow skin—looking as dour as ever. But the Potions classroom itself was spotless, gleaming with an almost clinical precision.

Snape looked impatient.

"Hmph! Don't get any ideas. I just think this better reflects the rigor and precision of Potions.

I hear you spent some time studying at a Muggle school…

I brought you here for one reason: to show you the wizarding world is every bit as good as the Muggle world!"

Douglas said nothing, but he already understood Snape's real motive. He wanted to show off his Potions classroom, to prove it could rival any Muggle lab. Why not just admit it, instead of pretending it was for Douglas's own good?

Well, he supposed it was true—he was the only Hogwarts professor with a Muggle university degree.

Douglas strolled around the classroom with deliberate ceremony. He was genuinely surprised to see graduated beakers on the tables. After all, most potion recipes were more like vague cookbooks than scientific formulas, full of subjective instructions and imprecise measurements.

But Snape had never been one to blindly follow the rules. Even as a student, he'd questioned the textbooks and made his own improvements. His obsession with Potions was obvious.

Maybe that's why he dared to introduce a bit of Muggle methodology—no small feat for a Slytherin.

After a tour of the room, Douglas asked, "Professor Snape, don't you have something like a 'Potions Classroom Safety Management System'?"

Snape's voice was dry as dust.

"'Potions Classroom Safety Management System'? Yes, yes, of course. I've already established one. Absolutely."

The tone made it clear he hadn't given it a second's thought.

Ever the educator, Douglas suggested, "Professor, that book I gave you covers most of these systems. You could adapt them based on your own teaching experience—trim what doesn't fit, keep what works. Make it really suit the Potions classroom."

Snape snorted, full of disdain.

"Hmph! What good would that do? Every lesson, I warn them about the same mistakes, and yet they make them anyway!"

He shot Douglas a pointed look. The thought that his most unruly former student was now lecturing him on Potions regulations was almost laughable.

Douglas cleared his throat and said, with exaggerated seriousness,

"Professor, do you ever feel overwhelmed in class?

Do students ever drive you to irritation or anger?

Do you hear them complain that you're too strict, that they can hardly breathe under the pressure…"

As Snape's complexion darkened, Douglas hurried on,

"Of course, they don't understand your good intentions, and you don't care what they say.

But if you had a set of classroom safety rules—rules they had to memorize and recite—they'd know exactly why they were wrong, without you having to repeat yourself.

And I suggest you get yourself an assistant. Someone who can handle the little emergencies while students are working…"

Snape's tone turned skeptical.

"Just like you, handing out Class Representative badges left and right?

Heh. You think Potions is something you can master with a flick of the wand?"

Douglas cut him off before the sarcasm could get any sharper. He had no interest in another of Snape's legendary tongue-lashings.

"Professor Snape, you really ought to use your resources wisely. Assistants don't have to come from the same class—there are plenty of sixth- and seventh-years taking Potions.

And for the advanced stuff, they don't need to hover over every cauldron.

You could set up a rotation, have each of them spend a bit of time each week as your assistant.

It's good for them, too. When they brew potions in the future, they'll be less likely to panic in a crisis.

And it gives them another perspective—sometimes, seeing how a potion goes wrong is the best way to learn."

Snape listened, and, to Douglas's surprise, actually nodded a little. But as soon as he finished, Snape snapped,

"Hmph! Since when does the Potions classroom allow someone who's never studied Advanced Potion-Making to meddle?

Close the door on your way out!"

"Er…"

Douglas's face fell. He hadn't expected Snape to turn on him so quickly. Was it his fault he hadn't studied the subject? It wasn't like he hadn't wanted to—someone had been afraid he'd surpass them and blocked his way!

It was so unfair. He was a professor, too! But what could he do? Every Hogwarts professor had taught him for at least five years. He was junior by default.

Douglas consoled himself:

One day, after five or six years at Hogwarts, once he'd earned his stripes, he'd call them all by their first names—Albus, Severus, Minerva, Filius, Pomona…

Well, maybe he'd still call his own Head of House "Professor Sprout." Some traditions were worth keeping.

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