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Chapter 47 – The First Fight in Slytherin
It took forever to finish the school song.
Harry stumbled sleepily after the Gryffindors, eyelids heavy as stone.
Before leaving, he glanced back at the Slytherin table.
Darren's head was bowed, his small frame half-dragged forward by the Slytherin Student Union president.
Harry felt a brief sting of annoyance—but he was too tired to remember why.
He barely made it to his dormitory before collapsing onto his bed and falling instantly asleep.
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Darren, meanwhile, could hardly keep his eyes open.
He rubbed them constantly, yawning again and again as Becky Greengrass tugged him along.
"Pull yourself together," she said sharply. "We still have to go through the Prefect selection trials."
"I—I'm not taking part," Darren muttered quickly.
The very idea sounded exhausting.
If he became a prefect, it would only eat into his Holy Father System grinding time.
Becky raised an eyebrow. "You have to. Professor Snape will be supervising. Anyone who refuses gets locked up for an entire term."
What?
No way.
There hadn't been anything like this in the Hogwarts novels of his previous life!
Even Slytherin couldn't be that cruel, could it?
But judging from everyone's grim faces, Becky wasn't exaggerating.
"But… I don't even know how to do magic," Darren blurted, looking panicked.
Becky froze. "You can't cast a single spell?"
Impossible.
He had his wand, his books—surely he'd tried something.
Darren's cheeks flushed.
He'd spent the past two days farming Father Points, not reading any of his textbooks.
"I'm sorry…" he said softly, eyes down, voice dripping guilt.
Becky sighed. For a second she looked ready to scold him—but that pitiful face stopped her cold.
Finally she groaned. "Then just go up there and punch them. Knock someone out. At least show something."
"What?"
Darren blinked.
How could a noble Holy Father resort to such a barbaric act?
Absolutely not.
Still… maybe he could find someone to help him handle it.
Someone loud, arrogant—and conveniently standing nearby.
His eyes drifted toward Draco Malfoy, who was clearly eavesdropping.
Perfect.
"Don't!" Darren suddenly raised his voice. "I've always been strong since I was little… I'm afraid I might hurt them."
Malfoy burst out laughing. "Oh, that's rich! Harry Potter's twin thinks he's strong!"
He swaggered closer, sneering. "Go on then, Potter—punch me. Show me how 'strong' you are!"
The Slytherin crowd laughed with him.
Darren's fists twitched.
But he kept smiling kindly. "You don't understand—I don't blame you for doubting me, but I really am strong, I—"
"Ha! You talk big for someone even weaker than your brother. Pathetic."
Laughter erupted again.
Darren lowered his gaze. His smile turned serene.
Alright, he thought, time for a little divine intervention.
"System," he whispered inwardly, "silently redeem 1,000 Father Points for one minute of boosted strength."
He'd earned plenty today—1,800 total. He could spare a thousand.
It was probably overkill… but oh well.
Power flooded his body instantly.
Then he raised his fist and slammed it straight into Malfoy.
"You apologize to my brother! You're not allowed to insult him!"
Malfoy didn't even have time to blink before the punch landed squarely on his head.
He flew backward, hit the ground hard—
and a sharp crack echoed through the hall.
His family's protective amulet charm shattered.
"POTTER'S TRYING TO KILL ME!" Malfoy shrieked in terror.
Darren froze.
Wait… did I actually just break a Malfoy heirloom charm with one punch?
If Malfoy hadn't had that protection, would he…?
He swallowed hard. Well, that's a little too strong for a "gentle" Holy Father.
But still—maybe Malfoy wouldn't have dared act up without that charm in the first place.
Before Darren could step forward and offer a saintly apology, a silky, dangerous voice spoke behind him.
"Well, Mr. Potter, if I'm not mistaken, we've had ourselves a little… internal quarrel," Snape drawled.
"That will be ten points from Slytherin—and one week of detention."
Darren spun around quickly, lowering his head in shame. His eyes shimmered with tears.
"I'm sorry, Professor," he said in a trembling voice. "I hurt Malfoy… please—just expel me."
He turned slightly, wiping at his eyes as though crying.
[Ding – Father Value +80]
Malfoy's fear vanished the moment he saw Darren look so pathetic.
He smirked. "You're finished, Potter. You'll be sent home before term even starts!"
Darren almost laughed out loud. Oh, sweet child. You just played yourself.
He was deliberately showing weakness—retreating to advance.
Did Malfoy really think Dumbledore would expel the famous Harry Potter's brother over a scuffle?
Sure enough, Snape's eyes flicked toward Malfoy, cold and cutting.
"It seems," he said, voice dripping sarcasm, "that Mr. Malfoy Jr. has yet to realize his own mistake. Detention as well."
Malfoy gaped at him, horrified.
"Professor—but it was him! Potter nearly killed me!"
"Excellent," Snape replied smoothly. "Make that two weeks of detention—and I'll be writing a letter to your father myself. I'm sure Lucius will be delighted to hear how reckless you've been."
Malfoy's expression froze as if he'd swallowed a lemon.
Darren hid a grin. Poor boy.
Even the Holy Father could feel a little sympathy for the little villain.
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