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Chapter 54 — Between Two Houses
Malfoy covered his nose, his face twisted in disgust.
"This smell—Merlin's beard—how does anyone stand it?"
Darren silently agreed.
The overwhelming stench of garlic filled the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom like a noxious fog.
He'd eaten far too much at breakfast, and his stomach was now staging a rebellion.
He nearly joined Malfoy in storming out — maybe he could claim he was "escorting a sick classmate."
Two birds, one holy stone: fresh air and a reason to act selfless.
Unfortunately, Malfoy chickened out at the door.
So Darren endured, sitting quietly in the corner and counting the seconds until class ended.
Professor Quirrell didn't notice — or pretended not to. He was too busy stuttering his way through the lesson, clutching his turban as if it were a lifeline.
When the bell finally rang, Darren was the first to slip out.
As he stepped into the hallway, a chill ran down his spine. For a fleeting second, he felt someone's eyes on him — sharp, searching, almost sorrowful.
But when he turned, the feeling was gone.
---
Friday morning.
For the first time all week, Harry and Ron actually made it to breakfast on time.
And there, at the Slytherin table, sat Darren — still eating, alone.
Harry's heart clenched.
Every morning he'd tried to talk to his brother, but by the time he arrived, the Slytherins were already gone.
Now, finally, his chance.
"Darren!" Harry called, hurrying over.
Darren turned, surprise flashing across his face before breaking into a bright smile.
Seeing Harry was like spotting sunlight through clouds.
"Harry!" he said warmly, eyes lighting up.
For Darren, Harry's arrival was perfect timing.
The system hadn't given him any good "Father Points" missions lately. He'd learned a first-year potion and a few defensive spells, but that was it.
He needed someone to shine his Holy Father light on.
And who better than Harry Potter himself?
Harry, meanwhile, felt guilty. He hadn't realized how lonely Darren looked until now — always sitting alone, sometimes beside Malfoy, sometimes next to a quiet Slytherin girl who barely spoke to him.
Harry cleared his throat awkwardly.
"Er—how are you doing?" he asked.
The moment the words left his mouth, he wanted to kick himself. Stupid question.
Darren beamed. "I'm fine, really!"
"Come with me," Harry said quickly, patting his brother's shoulder. "To the Gryffindor table. I want to talk to you properly."
He didn't notice the way the Slytherins' eyes all snapped toward Darren — cold, warning, unblinking.
No one in Slytherin ever went to sit with Gryffindor.
Doing so wasn't just breaking house pride — it was practically asking to be ostracized.
Darren felt their gazes like frost against his skin.
He hesitated for a moment. The pressure in the room was thick enough to choke on.
Perfect.
This was exactly the kind of "noble suffering" the system loved.
He took a deep breath, let his expression pale slightly, and said with quiet resolve,
"Go, brother!"
---
[Ding! Holy Father Value +80]
[Ding! +100]
[Ding! +90]
[Ding! +70]
[Ding…]
---
Nearly two thousand points.
Darren almost gasped.
Bless Harry Potter — the ultimate Father Point generator.
But before he could stand, a firm hand pressed down on his shoulder.
It was Kassandra Wallet, the Slytherin prefect.
"I'd sit back down if I were you," she said coolly. "Slytherin doesn't take kindly to traitors. Finish your breakfast before you do something you'll regret."
Her tone was calm, but her eyes flicked coldly toward Harry.
Reckless Gryffindor, she thought bitterly. Does he even realize he's making Darren a target?
Harry bristled.
"I'm taking my brother," he said sharply. "It has nothing to do with you!"
He didn't see the warning in her gaze — only hostility.
To him, she was just another snake, no better than Malfoy.
Darren glanced between them anxiously, eyes pleading.
"Kassandra…" he whispered.
Please, don't ruin this — he was racking up points faster than ever!
Kassandra exhaled, rolled her eyes, and withdrew her hand.
"Fine. Do as you like," she said, turning away with a cold snort and a bite of toast.
Idiot, she thought. Let's see how you handle the fallout.
---
[Ding! Holy Father Value +30]
[Ding! +20]
[Ding! +10]
---
The points kept rolling in as Darren followed Harry out of the hall, leaving behind a room full of whispering Slytherins.
Professor Snape's gaze flicked briefly to Kassandra before he called another prefect aside — his expression unreadable.
---
At the Gryffindor table, chaos reigned.
"Get me a drumstick!"
"George, not on the table!"
"Boo!"
"Seamus, what did you blow up this time?"
"Neville, your toad's in the porridge again!"
Darren froze at the edge of the table.
For a moment, he thought maybe Slytherin's cold silence wasn't so bad after all.
"Here, Darren," said Hermione suddenly. She slid a plate toward him. "You like pork chops, right?"
Darren blinked in surprise — then smiled, taking the plate.
"Thank you, Hermione. I love them."
She turned bright red. "Oh—n-no problem!"
Ron smirked at her, elbowing Harry, who only rolled his eyes.
Darren laughed softly. For the first time all week, he actually felt like he belonged somewhere — even if it wasn't his House.
But deep down, he knew peace never lasted long at Hogwarts.
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