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Chapter 60 — Snape's Blind Box
"Sister, Frank's knocking — that means the professor's coming! Wait— what's wrong with you? You were hit with the Cruciatus for ages, and you're standing?!"
Pansy came running from the door, her usual poise vanishing when she saw Darren on his feet. He even looked… well, refreshed.
She gaped at him, unable to form words. Then a flicker of guilt flashed across her face — she had helped intimidate him earlier. What if he decided to take revenge?
"I—I've got things to do! I'll be going now!" she stammered, and bolted.
Darren blinked after her, bemused. "Am I really that scary?" he murmured to himself. "Maybe I should tone it down next time…"
Betsy, still standing nearby, gave him a long, exasperated look. "Merlin's beard, Potter. You're too kind for your own good. One day you'll die helping someone else."
Darren smiled faintly, but before he could respond, she straightened and said quickly, "The professor's coming. Don't slip up — if you say anything that gives me away, I will hex you."
Her words were sharp, but her eyes were amused. After all, this entire "punishment" had been Snape's private idea. Even if Darren said something careless, the professor would cover for them both.
Still, Darren could tell she'd enjoyed tormenting him a little too much.
He sighed. This girl really does have a twisted sense of fun.
Of course, she was right — Snape couldn't publicly admit he'd orchestrated the act. If the other Slytherins found out, his authority would crumble.
Now that Betsy had gone, the common room felt cold and still. Only Darren remained, waiting — and thinking.
He opened his System interface mentally.
His Father Value had surpassed 4,000.
Enough for eight books, or forty Talent Points, or even four Silencing Uses. A massive haul for one night.
He was still smiling at his progress when a low, velvety voice broke the silence.
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"If I recall correctly," Snape drawled from the shadows, "a student subjected to the Cruciatus Curse should be lying in the hospital wing… not standing upright in the common room."
Darren froze.
That voice could drain the warmth from the air itself.
When he turned, Snape was already there — dark robes swirling like smoke, eyes glinting coldly under the torchlight.
Instantly, Darren triggered Occlumency, sealing his mind tight before Snape could read it through Legilimency.
> [Ding! The Holy Father System has detected an opportunity for a "Saintly Act."]
[Temporary Mission: Pale your face, lower your gaze, and confess to "cheating" with your power — taking all blame yourself.]
[Reward: Snape's Blind Box.]
Blind Box?
Darren blinked.
A blind box, like the kind from online shops? What was this — "Collectible Professor Edition"? Would it contain a random reward?
He had to bite his cheek not to laugh at the mental image of pulling "Snape's old socks" from a golden box.
Still — he couldn't hesitate now. Snape's eyes were already narrowing.
> [Accept Mission: Yes]
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He swallowed hard, letting his expression turn pale and shaken.
Snape stood silently, his gaze cutting through him like a blade.
Finally, Darren took a trembling breath and said softly, "Professor… it was me. I—I cheated. I used my own power. It has nothing to do with anyone else."
He kept his head bowed, his voice small. A single tear slipped down, purely for dramatic effect.
> [Ding! Mission complete. Congratulations — you have received Snape's Blind Box.]
He didn't dare look up, afraid that Snape would see the flicker of amusement behind his "guilt."
All right, he thought, please don't let the box contain used potion vials or greasy hair strands…
Snape exhaled slowly through his nose, the faintest of scoffs escaping his lips.
"So," he murmured, "Slytherin values power — no matter how it's gained."
Darren blinked.
Wait… that wasn't scolding. That was practically approval.
He understood instantly: Snape wasn't angry. He was acknowledging the lesson — that Slytherins pursued strength by any means necessary.
And beneath that, Darren could hear something else — a quiet, reluctant concern.
Of course. He looked too much like Lily for Snape to ever be truly harsh with him.
Still, Darren couldn't let up now. He forced a tremor into his voice, bowing lower, eyes glistening. "I'm sorry, Professor. I know I've disappointed you."
> [Ding! Father +80]
[Ding! Father +30]
Darren froze.
The first increase — yes, that must have come from Snape. But the second one…?
Who else was watching them?
He glanced around subtly. Snape's expression hadn't changed — but Darren could feel another magical presence brushing faintly at the edge of the room.
Someone powerful.
Someone masking their aura even from Snape.
Only two people at Hogwarts could do that.
Either Voldemort, lurking behind Quirrell's turban… or Dumbledore, meddling again from afar.
Darren didn't need to guess twice.
He sighed inwardly. That nosy old man again…
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