《HP: Too Late, System!》Chapter 21: Eager Scholars

With just five minutes left before the end of class, the students still hadn't heard Douglas Holmes ask them to recite from the textbook. Relief swept through the room—a collective sigh escaping lips that had been tight with worry.

Rumors of Douglas's rigorous assignments for other years had left the sixth-years on edge. The last thing they wanted, fresh off their O.W.L.s, was another round of endless drills and memorization.

Sensing their newfound ease, Douglas smiled and spoke lightly, "After today's lesson, I trust you all have a basic understanding of Inferi. So, for homework, I'd like each of you to write a ten-inch essay on Inferi. Don't just parrot the textbook—give me your own take, your own insights."

Grins broke out across the classroom. Sweet relief at last! After so much suffering, a simple essay felt like a gift.

But just as the bell chimed for dismissal, Douglas added, "Next class will be a practical lesson. Whoever performs best will become the sixth-year Class Representative."

That announcement left the students momentarily stunned. A practical? Would it be a spell duel? Surely he wasn't about to conjure an Inferius in class. No, that couldn't be—Hogwarts would never allow such a thing... right?

Smiling at his system's latest ratings, Douglas strolled back to his office. Once there, he carefully reviewed the blueprints for the Defence Against the Dark Arts practical training ground he'd designed, as well as the application—an entire foot of parchment long. Satisfied nothing was missing, he glanced at the clock: just after five. He decided to wait until half past before seeking out Professor McGonagall—no sense disturbing her before she'd had a moment to rest.

Suddenly, a knock sounded at the door.

"Come in!" Douglas called.

A cautious girl with a ponytail slipped inside. It was Meg Erin, the third-year Ravenclaw Class Representative he'd appointed.

"Miss Erin, what brings you here? Don't be nervous, come in and have a seat," Douglas said, gesturing toward the tea table by the fireplace.

Meg entered, her eyes widening at the office's décor. It was unlike anything else at Hogwarts—neither grand nor ostentatious, but bright, clean, and inviting. She settled into an armchair, noting its smooth, rounded wooden arms—so different from the usual angular Hogwarts furniture. She found herself absentmindedly running her fingers over the wood.

She watched as Douglas fetched a kettle from the hearth and began a series of unfamiliar, almost ceremonial movements. For a moment, she wondered if he was preparing some kind of Dark ritual. But when he set a small cup before her, she snapped back to reality.

"Professor, you said this is tea? But isn't it just made by pouring hot water over leaves? Why so complicated? Does this ritual change how it works?" she asked, curiosity and nerves mingling in her voice.

Douglas smiled, with not a hint of condescension. "This is a tea ceremony from the distant East, known as tea art. A well-brewed cup brings peace, harmony, and clarity of mind. It won't boost your magic, but it does help one think calmly—especially useful for those who spend their lives on the edge of Dark Magic. It's a way to soothe the mind, to counteract the negative effects of the darkness. Though, of course, that's still a distant concern for you."

He paused, then asked, "So, what did you want to discuss?"

Meg's eyes lit up at this new bit of wisdom—she'd never read about tea art as a defense against Dark Magic. She quickly stood and said, "Professor, I've memorized the section on Grindylows."

Douglas wasn't surprised. He'd chosen Meg as Class Representative because her records showed not only strong practical and leadership skills, but also an excellent memory—perhaps not quite a match for Hermione Granger, but certainly impressive.

He took a sip of tea and gestured for her to begin.

Meg drew a deep breath. "Grindylows have green bodies, green teeth, and horns on their heads. Their fingers are incredibly long—strong when gripping, but easily broken..."

While Meg recited in Douglas's office, a different kind of drama was unfolding in the Gryffindor common room. Hermione was herding a reluctant Ron and Harry, cornering their fellow second-years and supervising their recitations.

Ron and Harry hid behind their textbooks, whispering:

"Harry, maybe we should just hide out in the dormitory," Ron muttered.

"Oh, come off it, Ron. Did you forget girls can walk right into the boys' dorms? You really want her dragging you out of bed?" Harry replied, deadpan.

Meanwhile, Hermione was gently—if insistently—encouraging Neville Longbottom. "Neville, memorizing is honestly the simplest way. Just a bit of rote learning and you'll get through."

Neville looked utterly defeated. "Hermione, you forget—I'm the one who needs a Remembrall. Memorizing a whole book? You might as well kill me now."

At that, Hermione's roommate Lavender Brown tossed her own book aside with a huff. "Hermione, Professor Holmes never said we had to memorize everything this fast. Do you think everyone's like you? Besides, we've got four more assignments on top of Defense Against the Dark Arts. We can't spend every waking minute memorizing!"

Other classmates chimed in:

"Yeah, all the assignments together are over forty inches of parchment!"

"Blimey! I didn't even realize until you said it, Dean. You're brilliant at maths!"

"Hermione, you can't just boss us around. Even the Prefects don't go this far!"

Hermione's cheeks flushed scarlet, her eyes shining with unshed tears. She looked for a moment like an angry lioness ready to roar.

Harry noticed the rising tension and quickly tugged at Hermione's sleeve, trying to calm her.

Hermione shook off his hand, took a steadying breath, and said, "I know this isn't easy for everyone, but as far as I know, Professor Holmes treats all Houses the same. Students in other Houses are memorizing too. I'm only pushing you because Gryffindor's honor is at stake..."

Seamus Finnigan snorted. "Oh, so you remember we're Gryffindors, not Ravenclaws. If we were better at memorizing than Ravenclaws, why didn't the Sorting Hat just put us there?"

He shot Hermione a look that was half exasperated, half amused.

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