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Chapter 64 — Whose Child Am I?!
Darren had no idea what was happening in the Slytherin common room after he left.
Right now, he was in his dormitory, sleeves rolled up, scrubbing his hands with soap for the third time before finally deciding to open the "Snape Blind Box" reward the System had sent earlier.
"Alright, let's see what you're hiding…" he muttered, prying open the lid.
[Ding! Congratulations, host, you have obtained: Snape's Wand.]
Item Description:
Snape's Wand — Fit Rate: 100%. Increases Magic Power Attack by 100% per minute of continuous use.
Darren blinked.
"…Excuse me, what?"
He stared at the wand, dumbfounded.
First, the System had given him Snape's Bloodline. Now, it was giving him Snape's wand.
What's next, Snape's greasy hair care potion?
"System, are you trying to get me killed? If Dad James knew about this, he'd crawl straight out of the grave and throw an Avada at me himself!"
Grumbling, he flopped face-first into his bed.
"Whose child am I supposed to be now, huh?"
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Despite the chaos, Hogwarts life was growing more and more interesting.
After surviving Slytherin's so-called punishment ritual, Darren noticed a subtle shift in the way his housemates treated him.
The Slytherins no longer mocked him outright. They still rarely spoke to him, but their eyes carried a mix of confusion, irritation, and—dare he say it—a little respect.
Even Malfoy had stopped trying to provoke him.
Though, curiously, Draco had redirected all his energy into harassing Harry instead.
Every time Darren was around, Draco kept his taunts civil—almost restrained. But when Darren wasn't nearby? He would corner Harry and sneer about "the Gryffindor Golden Boy."
It got so bad that Harry started ranting about it to Darren.
"I swear, Darren, I hate that git more than I hate Dudley!"
Darren could only sigh. At least Harry didn't know Malfoy had once spared Darren during the punishment night.
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That Thursday morning, a new announcement appeared on the Slytherin notice board:
"Flying Lessons — 3:00 PM. Slytherin and Gryffindor joint class."
Immediately, the common room filled with chatter.
Darren leaned back, pretending to read while secretly listening in.
Ah, this scene… I remember this one.
In the original story, Harry's first flying lesson ended with him becoming the youngest Seeker in Hogwarts history.
He opened his System character panel out of curiosity.
Flying Talent: 3 points.
Ouch. That was… disappointing.
After a brief moment of hesitation, he sighed and added a few more points.
Alright, let's make it 10. Equal to canon-Harry. Fair's fair.
A grin tugged at his lips. If both Lily's sons inherited James's flying talent, Snape would probably lose his mind.
He chuckled quietly—then quickly wiped the smirk away and replaced it with a nervous look.
After all, as a "beginner who's never flown before," he was supposed to look appropriately anxious.
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He was adjusting his robes when a familiar drawl reached his ears.
"Potter, you're not scared of flying, are you?"
Darren looked up, blinking.
Draco Malfoy.
Now that was unexpected.
For days, Draco had been avoiding him like the plague—ever since that night when Darren endured the Cruciatus Curse without breaking. Even during his usual rounds of mocking Harry, Draco would vanish the second Darren appeared.
And now he was talking to him again?
Still, Darren didn't forget to repay kindness.
After all, Draco had given up his chance to hex him that night. Darren had already gone around thanking all the Slytherins who'd shown him mercy—everyone except Malfoy.
So, taking a deep breath, he stood up and approached.
Draco's eyes widened. He immediately stepped back, wand twitching in his hand.
Darren almost laughed. Merlin, he thinks I'm going to hex him!
But instead of smiling, Darren put on his usual sincere, soft expression.
"Thank you, Malfoy," he said earnestly. "You might pick on my brother a lot, but… I still want to thank you for not joining in that night."
Draco blinked, caught completely off guard. Then he let out a smug little huff, tilting his chin up.
"Hmph. If you hadn't looked so pitiful, I wouldn't have spared you. But—" he pointed a finger at Darren, "—if you and your brother cause more trouble next time, I won't hold back."
He gave a proud little smirk.
In truth, Draco had been deeply shaken that night.
He remembered his father once demonstrating the Cruciatus Curse on a house-elf when he was a boy. The way that creature had screamed, begging for mercy until it slammed its head into the floor…
He'd thought he was used to cruelty.
But Darren had been different.
Even under the curse, trembling and pale, Darren had gritted his teeth and whispered that he had to see Harry.
It made Draco's stomach twist.
Why would anyone protect their brother like that—especially a Gryffindor?
And where had Harry Potter been that night? Laughing in the common room with that redheaded Weasley.
Draco had been furious. Not at Darren—but at Harry.
Since then, he'd decided that only Slytherins were allowed to scold Darren Potter. Anyone else? Unforgivable.
The thought made him feel oddly triumphant.
After all, once Darren started following his lead, he'd be untouchable in Hogwarts.
Draco smirked at the thought—only for Darren to ruin it with a calm, flat voice.
"I went out with my brother because it was the right thing to do," Darren said mildly. "Not because I'm an idiot."
Then he tilted his head.
"And besides… you couldn't beat me, Malfoy."
Draco's jaw dropped.
Too much!
The nerve!
This guy—this annoyingly kind, soft-spoken snake—was actually taunting him!
Draco's sputtered outrage echoed through the dorm as Darren walked off, hiding his grin.
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