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Chapter 36 — Shadows of the Past
"No need to thank me, child. We had quite a pleasant talk today.
By the way, Professor McGonagall asked me to remind you — all new students must enter Hogwarts by crossing the Black Lake after arriving on the Hogwarts Express.
I hope you'll be at Platform Nine and Three-Quarters at King's Cross Station before eleven o'clock the day after tomorrow. It's time you began your magical education."
When Dumbledore finished, he waved Darren off with a smile.
Darren left obediently — at least until he was lying on his bed later, staring at the ceiling with his eyes rolled to the side.
He was sure of it now: if he hadn't said he wanted to join Slytherin "to better protect Harry," Dumbledore would never have allowed it.
That old fox always preached that "Slytherins are still children too," but the moment someone actually wanted to go there, he turned cautious and paranoid.
Darren had no doubt Dumbledore's sudden agreement tonight was just a gesture — a bit of appeasement for Snape's sake. After all, Dumbledore couldn't afford to seem biased against Slytherin in front of the double agent who'd risked his life for him.
Still, Darren knew what would happen next: once the Sorting Hat put him in Slytherin, Dumbledore would be calling him into his office every other week for "friendly chats."
He sighed. So why did he say Slytherin anyway?
First, the obvious reason — Harry was in Gryffindor. If Darren went there too, he'd be overshadowed completely.
Second, most of the people Darren actually liked — Greengrass, Pansy, even Cassandra — were in Slytherin. They were a bit proud, sure, but interesting.
And third — most importantly — Slytherin was a gold mine for his Holy Father Points.
Every moral conflict, every dramatic "redemption moment," every "I see the good in you, even if no one else does" speech — all of it screamed easy points.
Let Dumbledore worry. Let the old man wonder every day whether he was turning dark.
And when guilt hit, Dumbledore would overcompensate — meaning even more Father Points for Darren.
Perfect.
Smirking to himself, Darren turned over in bed.
Then he remembered — right, he still hadn't used his latest reward.
He pulled up the system.
[Initiate Bloodline Lottery.]
[Ding! Congratulations — Host has obtained: Snape's Bloodline.]
(On the night Lily was injured, Professor Snape lost a small amount of blood while panicking.)
[Reward distributed successfully.]
Snape's Bloodline: Diluted Prince Lineage — Potions Talent +10, Potions Innovation +20. Earns Snape's Uncertain Gaze.
"…Huh?"
Darren stared at the message like a stunned subway grandpa reading memes.
What did the system mean, "Snape lost blood that night"?
Voldemort's blood, now Snape's — was this thing collecting trauma samples?
And "the night Lily was injured"?
What exactly happened that night?
Sure, Darren had always wondered about what Voldemort might've done to Lily… but Snape? No way.
The man was so emotionally constipated he barely dared to breathe near her, much less—
He stopped that thought quickly.
James Potter was probably rolling in his grave already.
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Meanwhile, in another corner of Hogwarts, Snape sat alone, expression unreadable.
The image of the boy — that pure, open smile — wouldn't leave his mind.
The boy had drunk from that cup, completely trusting.
And Snape had helped Dumbledore lace it with Veritaserum.
He had drugged Lily's son.
He, who swore never to harm her child.
Snape clenched his fists, forcing his face blank.
He remembered Darren's words — the boy's quiet confession:
> "At first, I was jealous of Harry…"
That tone — soft, regretful — it was Lily's voice.
The same gentle tremor when she'd spoken to him for the last time.
She'd said she had regrets — but that she didn't regret him.
Snape swallowed hard, blinking rapidly.
He wanted to tell her now — tell her that he'd stopped using that cursed word,
that he'd turned against the Dark Lord,
that he'd spent years walking a knife's edge as a double agent just to atone.
But she was gone.
And he'd been the one who led her to her death.
So all he could do was protect what was left of her — Harry, and now this boy who carried her eyes.
For ten long years, Snape had drifted through Hogwarts like a ghost — teaching, spying, existing, not living.
Until the day he met Darren Potter.
For a moment, he'd thought he saw Lily again.
That same look in his eyes, that same stubborn kindness.
When Darren had stood up to defend a Muggle in Diagon Alley, Snape's body had moved on its own —
he'd nearly hexed the man into next week before realizing what he was doing.
Even his usual sarcasm failed when Darren smiled at him.
For the first time in years, the bitterness slipped away.
And yet, tonight Dumbledore had reminded him — he was still the same despicable man he'd always been.
> "Severus, I need a few drops of Veritaserum."
"For what? Giving Montague a taste of honesty?"
"No," Dumbledore said quietly. "For Darren."
Snape had frozen.
"What do you mean, for Darren?"
Dumbledore's eyes had gone faraway.
"It's not that I wish him harm. But I can't see through that boy. He seems good — almost too good. He loves life, helps everyone, even his wand represents self-sacrifice and courage… But every choice he makes somehow benefits him.
I don't know if it's luck or intention, Severus — and that's what I need to find out."
Snape's jaw had tightened.
Now, sitting alone, he let out a bitter laugh.
Even after all this time, he was still that same coward.
If Lily could see him now — deceiving her son —
she would hate him more than ever.
He closed his eyes.
For a moment, he almost thought he heard her voice again — soft, forgiving.
But it was only the wind outside the window, whispering through the castle's empty halls.
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(Author's Note: This chapter explains Snape's reasoning — and adds the idea that he secretly saw Lily once after hearing the prophecy, deepening his guilt and attachment.)
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