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Chapter 49 – A Lesson in Slytherin Etiquette
Snape's decree hung heavy in the air.
Then, as his footsteps faded down the corridor, a quiet wave of relief swept through Slytherin House.
No one dared to admit it aloud—but they were all grateful not to share a dormitory with Darren Potter.
It wasn't that they disliked him.
They were simply… terrified.
After all, who wanted to sleep beside the boy who'd shattered a Malfoy family amulet with one punch?
What if he got angry in his sleep and accidentally sent someone flying through a wall?
Snape's cold eyes had said enough.
No one argued when he waved his hand for the prefect trials to continue.
Darren's eyes were drooping by then—he looked ready to fall asleep where he stood.
Eventually, the first-year prefect position was awarded to Kassandra Vorley, a sharp-eyed girl whose voice could silence a room.
Snape gave her a curt nod, expression unreadable.
"Dismissed."
Darren blinked blearily, realizing only then that Kassandra was also sorted into Slytherin.
Right—she was Daphne Greengrass's friend, practically raised in that circle. It made sense she'd end up here.
He yawned and trudged off with the others toward the dormitories.
Behind him, poor Tek Montaly was still walking stiffly, as though afraid Darren might turn and throw another punch at any moment.
Darren sighed inwardly.
Do I really look that violent?
He wasn't thinking about "Father Values" or "holy light" right now.
He just wanted to crawl into bed and pass out.
As soon as his head hit the pillow, he was asleep.
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The next morning, at precisely seven o'clock, Darren stumbled out of his private room, stretching and rubbing his eyes.
When he rounded the corner into the common room, he froze.
Every first-year Slytherin was already there—sitting neatly in rows, half-asleep, staring at the floor.
"Huh?" Darren blinked. "You're all… up already?"
"Finally," Malfoy muttered irritably.
He'd been forced to wait with the others after Kassandra threatened him with her wand the moment he tried to leave.
Darren's ears turned pink. "I'm sorry—I overslept!" he said quickly, scratching his hair in embarrassment.
"It's fine," Kassandra replied coolly.
Her voice was calm and melodic, but her tone carried no warmth.
She stood at the front, posture perfect, every inch the pure-blood Slytherin princess. Her expression was as sharp as her wandwork—something the first-years had already experienced the night before.
Rumor had it she'd hexed two students for showing up late to roll call.
No one doubted it.
In fact, when Darren had appeared late this morning, everyone half-expected to see him hexed on the spot.
Instead, Kassandra had simply changed the "official" gathering time to seven o'clock.
The others were stunned.
And not particularly pleased.
Even if Darren was strong, even if he was Harry Potter's brother—why should he get special treatment?
He had his own dormitory.
Now the cold and commanding Kassandra Vorley had adjusted the rules for him?
It was hard not to feel resentful.
Darren, being Darren, noticed immediately.
The faint tension. The sideways glances. The barely contained sighs.
His lips twitched.
Ah… so that's how it was.
He didn't believe for a second that every first-year Slytherin was this disciplined on their own.
Someone had told them to assemble early.
And that someone—clearly—hadn't bothered to wake him.
Which meant Kassandra Vorley had set this whole little stage herself.
She'd made them all wait for him, just to make him look spoiled.
Darren nearly smiled.
Oh, how considerate of her.
Last night he'd been worrying that no one would dare challenge him anymore, now that he'd punched Malfoy.
But here was the perfect opportunity to play the misunderstood saint again.
Right on cue, the familiar tone echoed in his mind:
[Ding! A Holy Father event has been detected nearby.]
[Mission: Apologize sincerely to your classmates and request that the wake-up time not be changed on your behalf.]
[Reward: Spellcasting Talent +2]
[Accept mission?]
[Accepted!]
Darren took a deep breath, arranged his most contrite expression, and stepped forward.
"I'm so sorry," he said earnestly, bowing his head.
"I didn't realize everyone had to get up this early because of me. I should've been more careful. Please don't change the schedule just for me—I'll make sure to wake up on time next time. I… really didn't mean to waste anyone's morning."
His voice cracked just slightly at the end, and he blinked rapidly, forcing back the hint of tears.
Perfect.
[Ding! Mission complete. Spellcasting Talent +2.]
He lowered his gaze humbly, but inside, he was grinning.
Around him, several students shifted awkwardly.
Their resentment began to fade—just a little.
After all, it was hard to stay angry at someone who looked that guilty.
And more than a few of them realized something else.
If Darren truly hadn't been told about the schedule…
Then that meant someone—most likely Kassandra—had deliberately not informed him.
For a "prefect," that was a petty move.
Even Slytherins, who respected cunning, didn't like being dragged into someone else's games.
By the time they left the common room, the balance of power had quietly shifted.
A few students were already muttering that their parents would "want to hear about" Miss Vorley's leadership style.
Darren, of course, kept his head bowed all the way to breakfast—looking as though the guilt might crush him.
Inside, though, he hummed cheerfully.
Another day, another lesson learned:
sometimes the brightest halo shines best in the darkest dungeon.
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