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Chapter 30 – The Price of Saving a Life
Darren didn't want to go to St. Mungo's.
Unfortunately, the noble Miss Betsy Greengrass didn't care what he wanted. She ignored every protest, grabbed his arm, and Apparated straight to the wizarding hospital without a second thought.
Arrogant didn't even begin to describe her.
"Hmph! I just don't want to watch you suddenly drop dead," she said coldly as she pushed him toward the entrance.
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Chaos at St. Mungo's
St. Mungo's was as noisy as Diagon Alley on a holiday.
Everywhere Darren looked, wizards limped, hopped, or floated past in various states of disaster.
One wizard had antlers sprouting from his shoulders and was asking a Healer if it would kill him to chop them off.
Another was sprinting through the corridor shouting, "Stop me! I'm going to die of exhaustion!"
Darren winced. "Merlin's beard," he muttered. "What kind of magic does that?"
Just then, the familiar [Ding!] of the system chimed in his head.
> [Ding! Holy Father System has detected a moral event nearby. Temporary Task generated:]
Eavesdrop on Mrs. Longbottom's conversation with the Healer.
Then go to the hospital's billing desk and secretly deposit the 30,000 Galleons Betsy gave you into the Longbottom family's account.
Say only: "I'm just an ordinary nobody. Please don't tell anyone what I look like. Thank you."
Reward: Voldemort's Bloodline (Fragment – Lost the night he tortured Lily Potter).
Darren nearly choked.
Voldemort's bloodline?!
Wait—what "night that tortured Lily"? Dumbledore once mentioned Death Eaters capturing her, but… how did that connect to Voldemort losing his bloodline?
His mind buzzed. Some things were clearly above his pay grade.
> [Accept mission?]
[✔ Accept!]
He accepted instantly. Even if he didn't fully understand, who could pass up something like that?
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A Familiar Name
Scanning the corridor, Darren soon spotted a pair that made his stomach tighten—Neville Longbottom and his grandmother.
Mrs. Augusta Longbottom looked ancient and formidable, her face framed by wrinkles and a permanent frown. She was scolding a Healer at the counter.
"The bill again?" the Healer said wearily. "Mrs. Longbottom, I know they served the wizarding world, but St. Mungo's isn't a charity. Please try to settle the balance soon."
He hurried away, leaving the old woman trembling. Darren caught the briefest sound—a stifled sob—before she straightened her hat and marched back toward the ward as if nothing had happened.
Before Darren could step closer, Betsy's sharp voice cut through the air.
"What are you staring at? Move."
She grabbed his sleeve and dragged him down the hall. Darren said nothing, but the image stayed with him.
Even here—heroes were left struggling. No wonder Neville's first wand had been his father's. The family must have been scraping by for years.
Still, he couldn't just dump gold into their account in front of Betsy. She'd think he was grandstanding for attention. And if there was one thing Darren hated more than hypocrisy—it was being seen as a hypocrite.
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The Examination
"Here," Betsy announced with pride, pushing open a door. "I've already booked an appointment. Mr. Scott—my cousin—is one of St. Mungo's finest Healers."
Darren sighed. Of course he was.
Inside, a young man in Healer's robes beamed as they entered.
"Ah, noble Miss Greengrass! Always a pleasure. You've grown even more—"
"Spare me," Betsy interrupted coolly. "He's the patient. Be serious, Scott."
Scott blinked, then smiled awkwardly and waved his wand over Darren.
"Hmm… mild malnourishment, minor stress, otherwise healthy. No residual curse damage."
He turned to Betsy. "For a boy your age to survive an Avada Kedavra encounter, he's remarkably lucky. But if you want a full reading of his magical core, I'll need his consent."
Betsy frowned. "Are you sure that's all?"
Scott shrugged. "I know my craft. But if you'd like to double-check, you could always book a diagnostic with Spell Damage upstairs."
Betsy's eyes narrowed. She didn't like being told something might be out of her control. Still, she nodded curtly and thanked him. Then she hauled Darren back out into the hallway.
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A Warning
"Listen, cub," she said once they were clear. "As your future sister—take my advice."
Her tone softened only slightly. "Don't tell anyone what happened today. Especially not about the Killing Curse. Got it?"
She looked at him hard. "Harry Potter was the only one who ever survived Avada Kedavra—and the entire wizarding world knows his name. You're not Harry Potter. If word gets out that you survived, you'll disappear before sunrise. Understand?"
Darren blinked. For once, she sounded almost… concerned.
Betsy straightened, masking it with a smirk. "I'll deal with that attacker when I get home. If anyone finds out, I'll say I killed him before he got a spell off. You—keep your mouth shut."
Her smirk widened into something wicked. "Otherwise, you'll end up dead for real—and that would make me look bad. So don't you dare embarrass me, little cub."
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