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

At that moment, Ron looked utterly crestfallen.

He glanced at the pile of wand fragments on the table, then back at Douglas. Blinking away the tears welling in his eyes, he tried to sound breezy.

"Professor, it's all right, really. It's not your fault. It wasn't working anyway!"

For a moment, neither Harry nor Hermione knew what to say to comfort him.

Douglas just shrugged, helpless.

"Don't take it to heart. Since I'm the one who finished it off, I'll get you a new one."

Ron waved his hands frantically.

"No, no, you don't have to! It was already broken!"

Douglas, however, was firm.

"If you act like this, I'll feel awful. How am I supposed to face Bill and Charlie after smashing their little brother's wand to bits and just walking away? Besides, spellwork always has its risks. If I hadn't had your wand to experiment with, I wouldn't have figured out the difference between this one and another. That's settled, then."

He shot a meaningful look at Harry and Hermione. They caught on immediately and joined in, coaxing and encouraging Ron.

Only Hagrid stood by, cheerfully gnawing on chicken feet, occasionally sneaking a glance at the pink umbrella in the corner, then giving Douglas a look of mock disdain.

With Harry and Hermione's gentle reasoning and support, Ron finally relented.

Douglas seized the moment.

"Ron, I once promised Bill I'd give every new Weasley at Hogwarts a welcome gift. But when George, Fred, and you started, I wasn't here. So, let this new wand be my gift to you. Just don't tell George or Fred—I'm not planning to get them any make-up presents!"

The moment Ron heard that George and Fred didn't get one, his face lit up. He accepted the offer with a broad grin and swore he'd keep it secret from his brothers.

Seeing Ron finally agree, Douglas let out a long sigh of relief.

That was the most effort he'd ever spent giving a gift.

He hadn't interacted much with Ron, but from what he remembered in the books, he knew Ron was sensitive and proud. And that wasn't the only reason for his carefulness.

The Weasleys were a family who valued propriety. Whenever you gave them a gift, they'd always want to return the favor. So, when giving something, you had to consider what they could afford. If the gift was within their means, it was fine. But if it was too expensive, it would only embarrass them—and might even make their already tight finances worse.

So, every time he gave a Weasley child a present, Douglas picked his moment with care.

And he never minded the hand-knitted sweaters from Mrs. Weasley, even if her taste didn't always match his. After all, she was one of only two people in this world who still remembered his birthday. The other was Director George from the orphanage.

That said, the real issue right now wasn't that the Weasleys couldn't afford a new wand. After all, this year, Douglas hadn't insisted that students buy his books, so they'd saved enough for a new wand.

He'd bet anything that Ron hadn't dared tell his family his wand had been snapped by the Whomping Willow during that flying car debacle. The memory of that Howler on the second day of term was still fresh in everyone's mind.

With Douglas's gentle teasing and help, they soon finished preparing the pork and vermicelli stew. As usual, Hagrid cut the meat into slabs nearly as big as Douglas's face.

Just as they were about to eat, Hagrid pulled out a long, unicorn-hair-woven pouch with a mysterious grin and handed it to Douglas.

"Douglas, didn't you always want a pair of chopsticks made from unicorn horn? Go on, see if these suit you!"

Douglas stared at Hagrid in surprise, taking the pouch. Inside was a pair of golden, jade-like chopsticks. If he remembered right, he'd mentioned this in passing to Hagrid back in fifth year, during a chat about unicorns. He never imagined Hagrid would remember it after all these years.

Hagrid waved off his thanks.

"It was nothing. Last year, two poor unicorns were killed by You-Know-Who. Harry and the others know about it…"

The three students gazed at the chopsticks, eyes wide.

Ron couldn't help but sigh, "Wish my wand was made like that!"

Hagrid burst out laughing and winked at them.

"Bet you lot don't know why there's a Hogwarts rule against using your own—or anyone else's—wand as chopsticks, do you?"

The trio shook their heads in perfect unison.

Harry said, "Before I came to Hogwarts, I didn't even know what chopsticks were!"

Ron puffed up, "I know, but honestly, they're a pain to use. Mum sometimes makes hot pot, and only she can handle chopsticks properly. I've no idea where she learned it, though."

Hermione chimed in, curiosity sparkling in her eyes.

"I've always wondered about that rule. As far as I know, chopsticks are only used in the East, in the Muggle world. And apart from a few Hufflepuffs, hardly anyone at Hogwarts knows how to use them. Did Hogwarts ever have exchange students from the East?"

Hagrid just smiled mysteriously, but his look said it all—the rule had something to do with Professor Holmes.

Douglas was busy testing out Hagrid's chopsticks. They were longer and thicker than the unicorn horn pair he'd made himself—perfect for fishing food out of hot pot.

Noticing everyone staring, Douglas shot Hagrid a glare. Next time he ate with Hagrid, there'd be no outsiders—Hagrid's mouth was just too big.

"Actually, that rule goes hand in hand with another: 'No using cauldrons for hot pot.' Once upon a time, a few unlucky kids tried using their wands as chopsticks in a cauldron. They accidentally said something that triggered a spell, and—boom!—the whole pot exploded. Several people ended up in the hospital wing… But enough about those tragic tales. There's food on the table—how can you still be chatting?"

The trio exchanged glances. They'd always assumed the cauldron-hot-pot rule dated back ages. Surely no one would dare try something like that while Professor Snape was teaching Potions.

It seemed Professor Holmes was even bolder than they'd imagined—he'd gone toe-to-toe with Snape back in his school days.

Honestly, Professor Holmes's attempts to change the subject were so clumsy, it was hard not to suspect he'd been that "unlucky kid" himself.

And Harry was pretty sure he hadn't imagined it earlier—Professor Holmes was definitely carrying two wands.

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