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Chapter 68 — Malfoy's Show-Off!!
Three o'clock in the afternoon.
Darren followed the rest of the Slytherins out to the open field beside Hogwarts Castle — their first ever Flying Lesson.
Rows of old school brooms were laid neatly on the grass. Some were so splintered they looked like they'd collapse under a feather.
"All right, don't just stand there gawking!" barked Madam Hooch, striding forward with her trademark whistle and sharp yellow eyes. "Find a broom, each of you!"
Darren obediently stepped up to one. It was worn, crooked, and shedding twigs from the tail — clearly older than he was.
Before he could examine it, a smug voice sounded beside him.
"My father's buying me a Nimbus Two Thousand," Draco Malfoy announced loudly enough for everyone to hear. "It's a broom for proper wizards. Potter, would you like one too? If you call me Brother Draco, maybe I'll ask him to buy you one!"
Darren sighed inwardly and turned to look at him.
This boy really had a talent for humiliation.
But… something was off.
Draco had never acted this friendly before — especially not calling him brother.
Darren's eyes narrowed slightly. Wait. Could this have something to do with that drop of blood earlier?
Had Lucius already tested it?
That fast?
Apparently, in the wizarding world, DNA results came back at the speed of magic.
If they ever invented a magical version of ancestry tracing, Darren suspected half the wizarding world might turn out to be his family by the end of the semester.
Still, he had to keep up appearances.
He frowned. "Malfoy, stop making fun of my brother. We may not be rich, but at least Harry and I care about each other. That's something money can't buy."
[Ding! Father +10]
[Ding! Father +5]
[Ding! Father +15]
[Ding…]
A satisfying little wave of "Father Value" chimed in his head.
Nice. Free experience points were always welcome.
Malfoy, however, was not so pleased.
Before, he would've laughed and dismissed Darren's "brotherly" speeches. But now, knowing Darren was his actual half-brother, his emotions tangled into something ugly and strange.
This guy defended Harry Potter more fiercely than he'd ever defended him!
And he'd just offered the idiot a Nimbus Two Thousand!
Malfoy's face twisted. "Hmph!" He turned sharply and shot Harry a glare so intense it made Harry blink in confusion.
Harry frowned. What on earth did I do this time?
Malfoy just looked… furious — and weirdly hurt.
Shaking his head, Harry stepped up to his broom, following Madam Hooch's instructions.
"Now, stretch out your right hand, place it over your broom, and say, Up!"
"Up!" Darren called.
His broom leapt instantly into his hand. Smooth, obedient, perfect.
He grinned. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Harry's broom do the same.
Meanwhile, Malfoy's broom rolled lazily on the ground before reluctantly floating halfway up and smacking into his palm.
"See that, Darren Porter?" Malfoy said quickly, trying to save face and twirling the broom like a trophy. "Mine listens perfectly!"
Darren pretended not to hear.
That made Malfoy even more determined to perform.
How could both Potters have mastered the command faster than him? They'd grown up among Muggles — the only broom they'd used probably swept floors!
"Hmmph. Pure luck," he muttered, glaring at Harry's broom as if it had personally offended him.
But inside, Malfoy was already plotting. He'd write to Father tonight. He'd get that Nimbus. Then he'd soar past the Potters just to show them who really belonged in the sky.
Madam Hooch clapped her hands. "Mount your brooms! Grip them tightly, kick off hard from the ground, and hover a few feet up when I blow the whistle!"
She demonstrated gracefully, hovering a perfect two feet above the grass.
Everyone copied. Darren swung a leg over his broom, settling into balance.
Beside him, Malfoy complained under his breath, tugging at his sleeve. "This broom is tearing my robe — I'll tell Father to have them all replaced!"
Darren nearly laughed. Lucius Malfoy, donating brooms to Hogwarts? The day that happened, he'd start believing Voldemort taught charity.
Still, he kept quiet.
Madam Hooch raised her whistle. "Three… two—"
"AHHH!"
Before she could finish, Neville Longbottom panicked and shot ten feet straight up into the air.
Students gasped.
Madam Hooch shouted, "Come back down, Mr. Longbottom!"
Neville flailed wildly, his broom spinning out of control.
Then came the familiar chime.
[Ding! Detecting a "Holy Father System" event. Mission released: Cast Wingardium Leviosa to slow Neville's fall. However, midway through the spell, deliberately falter as if your magic fails — then mount your broom and catch him before he hits the ground.]
[Reward: Neville's eternal gratitude. (You will gain 50% of all knowledge Neville learns.) Accept mission?]
Darren grinned.
A perfect mix of drama and reward.
Even if Neville wasn't a future genius, half of anyone's knowledge was worth collecting. Besides, saving a classmate always looked good for a Holy Father.
Accepted!
[Ding! Mission accepted.]
Darren raised his wand slightly, whispering under his breath as the wind whipped around them—
"Wingardium Leviosa…"
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