《HP: Too Late, System!》Chapter 27: Old Friends on the Marauder’s Map

Douglas fixed the twins with a look of deep disappointment, sighing,

"Honestly, I never imagined the map's next inheritors would be so hopeless. Caught red-handed… what a letdown."

George and Fred flushed scarlet.

They could take being called poor students or notorious troublemakers—that never bothered them.

But to have their mischief-making skills insulted by Douglas, and with no possible retort, left them utterly deflated.

Douglas just chuckled, crossing his legs with the casual ease of someone who'd long since abandoned any pretense of a "proper" professor.

"Alright, back to business. From now on, every evening you'll report to my office for detention. And your task is simple: memorize every page of the fourth-year Defence Against the Dark Arts textbook."

At this, the twins' faces collapsed in utter despair. This wasn't detention—this was a death sentence.

Douglas rapped his knuckles on the desk, feigning annoyance.

"Don't look so glum. You've got two and a half months—did you really think I'd let you off with something so easy? Once you've memorized it, you'll write out the entire textbook from memory. When you've copied every last word, your detention ends."

The twins looked ready to sink to their knees and beg the heavens for mercy.

Right now, they'd gladly swap places with Filch and scrub toilets for a month rather than face this torture.

George whimpered, voice thick with tears,

"Professor, we still have Quidditch practice…"

Douglas considered this for a moment, then nodded.

"Fair enough. On Quidditch training days, you're excused from detention."

Both twins let out a huge sigh of relief. Thank Merlin their last source of happiness hadn't been stripped away.

With a wave, Douglas dismissed them.

"Off you go—back to Gryffindor Tower."

At the door, he called after them,

"Starting tomorrow, you'll report here for detention. I'll let Professor McGonagall know. Oh, and the Marauder's Map stays with me for now. When you've proven yourselves, I'll return it. But if you get caught again while in possession of the map, you'll lose the right to use it—permanently!"

The twins slunk out, faces dark as thunderclouds.

But the moment they stepped out of Douglas's office, their spirits rebounded as if nothing had happened.

"Fred, I think we're really not practicing enough for Quidditch. At this rate, Slytherin will wipe the floor with us."

"Oh, dearest George, you're absolutely right. I say it's time we have a serious chat with Wood about extra training sessions!"

Back in his Defence Against the Dark Arts office, Douglas unfurled the Marauder's Map.

He quickly located Harry Potter in the Gryffindor dormitory.

Next to Harry's name, another overlapped—one he recognized instantly.

"Ron Weasley."

"Peter Pettigrew."

A sly smile curved Douglas's lips.

"Heh. Wormtail. Long time no see."

Friday's first lesson was with the seventh years.

Douglas led all the students who'd signed up for Defence Against the Dark Arts into the fourth-floor classroom—the practical exam venue they'd helped to set up.

This year's Head Boy, Mario Nott of Slytherin, stepped forward, brimming with pride.

"Professor Holmes, this room serves as the exam space for third- and fourth-years. Besides a few trap spells, it's stocked with common dark creatures for the lower years. Ravenclaw's Ruth Bunier and Ezekiel Clark handle the daily maintenance."

Ruth Bunier stepped up and gave Douglas a thorough introduction to the traps and magical creatures she'd arranged: Boggarts, Red Caps, Hinkypunks, Grindylows, Kappas…

All provided by Douglas himself—with a little help from his editor, Mr. Slane.

Naturally, more advanced, intelligent creatures—like werewolves and vampires—were barred from Hogwarts.

Thanks to clever magical partitions, each creature enjoyed its own perfectly tailored habitat.

Douglas nodded in satisfaction.

"Ms. Bunier, Mr. Clark, please submit a full experimental report on this practical base when you're done."

Next, they visited the fifth-year practice room—a veritable museum of dark magic.

Not the truly deadly kind, but every curse, hex, and jinx the fourth- and fifth-years had studied. The challenge? Survive and counter the spells.

Of course, the Slytherin students weren't allowed to add spells at random. Everything was carefully curated from past Defence Against the Dark Arts exams.

Then came the sixth-year classroom.

The moment they entered, the space transformed: a cavernous lake, shrouded in gloom.

The water was so clear you could see a dozen corpses drifting beneath the surface.

On the far shore, a third of the room was swallowed by icy mist.

In short, Douglas was thoroughly pleased with every arrangement.

So was the Scholar Development System—especially when it awarded him a nine out of ten for homework completion.

Douglas had tasked the seventh-years with these setups for a reason: he wanted to see how well students had truly mastered the curriculum after years of lackluster teaching in Defence Against the Dark Arts.

So far, they were exceeding his expectations.

Some might call it overkill—why spend time reviewing material everyone had already learned and been tested on?

But the reality was, with this subject's unique challenges, students rarely mastered everything as the textbooks claimed.

He remembered, during his own O.W.L.s, a student who couldn't even cast the Levitation Charm—and another whose Lumos spell flickered like a dying candle.

During the seventh-year exams, plenty still failed at the Shield Charm—which was supposed to be sixth-year content.

If Douglas wanted to do right by this post, he couldn't afford to let things slide.

Once the seventh-year lesson ended, it was time for Gryffindor's fourth-year class.

George and Fred, as class reps, had already received Douglas's note and were leading their classmates to the fourth-floor practice room.

Neither looked particularly cheerful, and their classmates eyed them with a mixture of sympathy and amusement.

After all, the night before, the twins had boasted about scouting out the practical exam.

Who could have guessed they'd crash and burn before even getting started?

Back in the dormitory, after suffering the indignity of being doused in dung, they confessed everything—especially their punishment: detention and copying the textbook by hand.

Percy merely snorted in response.

Ginny sweetly shared her favorite candies with her two unfortunate brothers.

Ron gloated, claiming he'd always known his twin brothers would finally meet their match in Professor Holmes—prompting the twins to chase him around the common room in mock outrage.

When Wood heard about the twins' misfortune, he declared he'd be requesting extra Quidditch practice from Professor McGonagall—just to spare them from more "study sessions."

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