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Chapter 28 – The Equality Test
He might believe in equality, but right now Darren was still just an ordinary child—one who hadn't even set foot in Hogwarts yet.
He didn't truly understand the weight of his own words.
The system remained silent, offering no temporary quest this time.
It seemed he would have to handle this one himself.
So, instead of backing down, he smiled calmly and stepped forward, standing toe to toe with Draco Malfoy.
> "Of course life is equal," Darren said evenly. "A Muggle-born wizard standing beside you is as small as an ant before the truly powerful.
But tell me—if you were to crush an ant, would you stop to ask what family it came from?
If you can't prove that my life is worth less than yours, then isn't your arrogance rather ridiculous?"
> [Ding! Father Points +80.]
[Ding! Father Points +50.]
[Ding! Father Points +70.]
[Ding! Father Points +20.]
[Ding…]
Darren blinked in confusion.
So many notifications?
He almost gasped aloud.
Wait—what?
Normally, he only gained Father Points for helping people.
How was he getting them now… just by talking back to Malfoy?
Ah.
It wasn't Draco—it was the crowd.
There were plenty of half-bloods and Muggle-borns watching. They probably thought he was standing up for them.
No wonder the numbers kept rising.
For a moment, Darren was actually tempted to keep scolding Malfoy just to see how much more he could earn.
But then he stopped himself.
That would ruin his image as a "Holy Father."
If he went too far, it might look like he was bullying a child.
And that would definitely kill the mood.
So instead, he just smiled serenely, waiting for Malfoy to argue back.
That would be even better—more dialogue meant more opportunity to gain Father Points.
He looked at Draco expectantly.
Come on, you arrogant ferret. Say something stupid.
---
Darren stood quietly, hands at his sides, his expression composed but faintly reproachful—like a teacher scolding a thoughtless student.
The onlookers could almost feel the contrast between them: one proud and spoiled, the other calm and self-assured.
Even Betsy Greengrass, who had been bristling moments before, found herself glancing at him differently.
She had assumed Darren was just another loudmouth spouting idealistic nonsense about "equality."
Everyone said such things—but when the pressure rose, few could defend it.
Pure-blood families weren't all like the Malfoys.
They valued power, intelligence, and bloodline tradition—true. But they also respected strength of will.
No one in Slytherin believed in "kindness." They believed in results.
Yet this small boy's words…
They hit a nerve.
Darren was right.
Before true power, even the purest of pure-bloods were as insignificant as anyone else.
Betsy remembered that day—over a decade ago, when she was only five.
She had seen him then—the Dark Lord.
He killed without hesitation.
Bloodline, status, name—none of it mattered.
In front of Voldemort, everyone was equal.
That memory had shaped her ambition ever since.
If blood didn't matter before true power, then she would become that power herself.
Her golden eyes lit up, sharp with realization.
Then, unexpectedly, she smiled.
She stepped forward, holding out a slender hand to Darren, her chin tilted proudly.
> "My name is Betsy Greengrass," she said. "It's a pleasure to meet you."
Slytherins respected strength—and this boy had it.
Darren, who had been feeling disappointed that Malfoy had no comeback, froze for a second in surprise.
Then, inside, he almost burst out laughing.
Another opportunity? Already?
He tilted his head, feigning confusion.
But instead of shaking her hand, he sighed softly and took a small step back.
> "Miss," he said apologetically, "I'm afraid I can't return the sentiment.
You, like this gentleman, are pure-blood. I'm not.
I'm sorry."
His tone was polite, but his eyes were full of quiet regret.
He truly looked sorry—sorry that he couldn't accept her friendship.
Then, almost wistfully, he murmured:
> "After all, if all life is equal… then perhaps we shouldn't divide people by blood at all."
> [Ding! Father Points +50.]
[Ding! Father Points +70.]
[Ding! Father Points +20.]
[Ding! Father Points +30.]
[Ding…]
Darren nearly laughed out loud.
This was insane.
Father Points were pouring in faster than ever—almost a thousand in total from that short exchange alone.
Add that to what he'd earned from Paggie the night before, and he now had over twelve hundred Father Points in total.
He was rich.
The only downside?
By turning away from Betsy so dramatically, he'd walked off too soon—and the flood of Father Points had stopped.
He sighed regretfully. Should've stayed a few more minutes.
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> [Ding! Detecting a situation suitable for a Holy Father scenario.
Temporary mission generated:
Block Betsy Greengrass with your body. After being struck by the spell, awkwardly say:
"Don't get the wrong idea. I just ran one step too slow."
Reward: 1x Bloodline Lottery Ticket.
Will you accept the mission?]
Darren froze.
Wait—what?
Hadn't he just left?
How was there still a Betsy-related mission?
He turned around just in time to see Betsy striding toward him, wand in hand, her golden hair gleaming like fire in the sunlight.
Her expression was unreadable—but her steps were firm.
Like a duelist marching to the battlefield.
"Oh, no," Darren muttered under his breath.
"She's not coming to hex me, is she?"
The danger aura was definitely rising.
Still—
> [Accept.]
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