Chapter 32 – A Shadow Over St. Mungo's
After calming himself down, Darren stepped out of St. Mungo's.
The cool air hit his face, and right there at the hospital entrance stood Betsy Greengrass—back straight, chin lifted, her long black hair rippling in the wind.
From where Darren stood, it almost looked like one of those dramatic scenes from an old wizarding romance film.
Except this particular "heroine" looked furious.
Her brow was tightly furrowed as she tried to avoid brushing against the crowd, sidestepping a wizard with scales on his neck and glaring at another who looked suspiciously half-troll.
"Finally! If you hadn't come out soon, I'd have marched into the boys' bathroom to drag you out myself!" she snapped the moment she saw him.
Darren rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. "Sorry for keeping you waiting."
He hurried toward her, lightly tugging at the hem of her robe to get her attention. Betsy gave a sharp little snort, raised her wand, and with a crack! they Disapparated.
When they landed in Diagon Alley, the noise and color of the busy street returned instantly—merchants shouting, cauldrons clanging, owls hooting.
Before Darren could even steady himself, a familiar voice squeaked nearby.
"Darren's little master! You ran off too fast!"
It was Paggie, his loyal house-elf, wringing her hands and muttering anxiously.
"Paggie came out of the bookstore and couldn't find Darren's little master anywhere! I had to go to Professor Dumbledore, and he said Darren's little master was fine and told Paggie to wait here…"
"I'm sorry, Paggie," Darren said quickly, guilt tugging at him. "I got caught up in something and made you worry."
He could imagine how frantic she must've been. House-elves were bound by loyalty; when their masters disappeared, some even punished themselves for failing them.
The last thing he needed was Paggie trying that.
But he couldn't tell her the truth either—if she knew he'd taken a Killing Curse, she'd probably faint on the spot.
"Darren's little master doesn't need to apologize," Paggie said, her old voice trembling with emotion. "The little master believes all life is equal! The little master treats Paggie as the same as wizards! Paggie… Paggie cried for a long time out of gratitude…"
Darren winced inwardly. That "life is equal" line had been meant for people, not for house-elves.
But correcting her would ruin his Holy Father image, so he kept silent, smiling faintly instead.
After a moment, Paggie sniffled and added, "By the way, Mr. Dumbledore asked for you, little master. He said you should come to his office right away."
Darren froze.
Dumbledore? Already?
He felt a chill crawl up his spine. Could Dumbledore somehow know about the Voldemort bloodline he'd just absorbed? Impossible—there was no way. It must be about something else.
Still, his pulse quickened. "Did Professor Dumbledore say what it was about?"
"Paggie was worried he might hurt you, little master," the elf whispered. "So… Paggie might have… listened for a little while."
Darren's face went pale. "You what?"
Was she serious? Eavesdropping on Dumbledore? If that wasn't dangerous, he didn't know what was. What if Dumbledore let her overhear something just to test him? The man was unpredictable enough for that.
Having someone like Dumbledore keeping an eye on him was both a blessing and a curse.
On one hand, it meant someone powerful had his back if things went bad. On the other, it meant he had to live constantly on guard, showing only the version of himself that was honest, humble, and harmless.
He sighed softly. At least his record was clean—aside from the whole Voldemort bloodline thing, which hopefully couldn't be detected.
He crouched slightly to meet Paggie's eyes. "Paggie, you mustn't eavesdrop again, alright? It's rude and it breaks people's trust. Some wizards would punish you for that—harshly. I don't ever want to see you hurt."
Paggie's eyes filled with tears again. "Darren's little master is so wise and kind… Paggie understands."
She nodded earnestly, gazing at him with pure admiration. To her, Darren was bright, gentle, and good-hearted—the kind of wizard the Potter family could be proud of.
Maybe one day, she thought, Darren's little master could inherit the family's legacy.
But then her ears drooped slightly. She remembered overhearing Dumbledore earlier.
He'd told someone that only Harry Potter would inherit the Potter family name and fortune. Darren, the younger twin, wasn't to be included.
Her chest tightened. Would Darren's little master really be cast aside like that?
She didn't tell him what she'd heard. He was too kind, too selfless—he wouldn't care for wealth or titles.
Still, Paggie vowed silently to herself that she'd find a way to protect him… no matter what it took.
---
--
---
---
---------------------------------------------------------------------------
Like it ? Add to library!
Have some idea about my story? Comment it and let me know.
Your gift is the motivation for my creation. Give me more motivation!
Creation is hard, cheer me up! VOTE for me
Chapter 32 – A Shadow Over St. Mungo's
After calming himself down, Darren stepped out of St. Mungo's.
The cool air hit his face, and right there at the hospital entrance stood Betsy Greengrass—back straight, chin lifted, her long black hair rippling in the wind. From where Darren stood, it almost looked like one of those dramatic scenes from an old wizarding romance film.
Except this particular "heroine" looked furious.
Her brow was tightly furrowed as she tried to avoid brushing against the crowd, sidestepping a wizard with scales on his neck and glaring at another who looked suspiciously half-troll.
"Finally! If you hadn't come out soon, I'd have marched into the boys' bathroom to drag you out myself!" she snapped the moment she saw him.
Darren rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. "Sorry for keeping you waiting."
He hurried toward her, lightly tugging at the hem of her robe to get her attention. Betsy gave a sharp little snort, raised her wand, and with a crack! they Disapparated.
When they landed in Diagon Alley, the noise and color of the busy street returned instantly—merchants shouting, cauldrons clanging, owls hooting.
Before Darren could even steady himself, a familiar voice squeaked nearby.
"Darren's little master! You ran off too fast!"
It was Paggie, his loyal house-elf, wringing her hands and muttering anxiously.
"Paggie came out of the bookstore and couldn't find Darren's little master anywhere! I had to go to Professor Dumbledore, and he said Darren's little master was fine and told Paggie to wait here…"
"I'm sorry, Paggie," Darren said quickly, guilt tugging at him. "I got caught up in something and made you worry."
He could imagine how frantic she must've been. House-elves were bound by loyalty; when their masters disappeared, some even punished themselves for failing them. The last thing he needed was Paggie trying that.
But he couldn't tell her the truth either—if she knew he'd taken a Killing Curse, she'd probably faint on the spot.
"Darren's little master doesn't need to apologize," Paggie said, her old voice trembling with emotion. "The little master believes all life is equal! The little master treats Paggie as the same as wizards! Paggie… Paggie cried for a long time out of gratitude…"
Darren winced inwardly. That "life is equal" line had been meant for people, not for house-elves. But correcting her would ruin his Holy Father image, so he kept silent, smiling faintly instead.
After a moment, Paggie sniffled and added, "By the way, Mr. Dumbledore asked for you, little master. He said you should come to his office right away."
Darren froze.
Dumbledore? Already?
He felt a chill crawl up his spine. Could Dumbledore somehow know about the Voldemort bloodline he'd just absorbed? Impossible—there was no way. It must be about something else.
Still, his pulse quickened. "Did Professor Dumbledore say what it was about?"
"Paggie was worried he might hurt you, little master," the elf whispered. "So… Paggie might have… listened for a little while."
Darren's face went pale. "You what?"
Was she serious? Eavesdropping on Dumbledore? If that wasn't dangerous, he didn't know what was. What if Dumbledore let her overhear something just to test him? The man was unpredictable enough for that.
Having someone like Dumbledore keeping an eye on him was both a blessing and a curse. On one hand, it meant someone powerful had his back if things went bad. On the other, it meant he had to live constantly on guard, showing only the version of himself that was honest, humble, and harmless.
He sighed softly. At least his record was clean—aside from the whole Voldemort bloodline thing, which hopefully couldn't be detected.
He crouched slightly to meet Paggie's eyes. "Paggie, you mustn't eavesdrop again, alright? It's rude and it breaks people's trust. Some wizards would punish you for that—harshly. I don't ever want to see you hurt."
Paggie's eyes filled with tears again. "Darren's little master is so wise and kind… Paggie understands."
She nodded earnestly, gazing at him with pure admiration. To her, Darren was bright, gentle, and good-hearted—the kind of wizard the Potter family could be proud of.
Maybe one day, she thought, Darren's little master could inherit the family's legacy.
But then her ears drooped slightly. She remembered overhearing Dumbledore earlier. He'd told someone that only Harry Potter would inherit the Potter family name and fortune. Darren, the younger twin, wasn't to be included.
Her chest tightened. Would Darren's little master really be cast aside like that?
She didn't tell him what she'd heard. He was too kind, too selfless—he wouldn't care for wealth or titles.
Still, Paggie vowed silently to herself that she'd find a way to protect him… no matter what it took.
---