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Chapter Sixty-Nine: The Reckless Lion!!
After Darren accepted the task, he looked up.
Neville was flying really high.
For a moment, Darren couldn't even see where he'd gone.
Fortunately, a second later, he spotted Neville's figure plummeting rapidly from the sky.
"Wingardium Leviosa!"
Darren whipped out his wand and shouted toward Neville.
Hiss—
After casting, he froze.
Not from embarrassment, but because—seriously? The spell was draining far too much magic.
The system had given him 100 units of mana to start with, and he'd never increased it. Still, that 100 always replenished overnight, no matter how much he used.
It neither grew nor diminished.
He'd even tried burning it out—casting beginner spells all day long—but it refused to deplete. That was when he'd realized his magic reserves were enormous compared to an average first-year.
But now, in the moment of saving Neville, his magic power was draining fast. In the blink of an eye, it was down to fifty.
If he kept it up, he'd completely exhaust himself.
Saving someone from that height clearly required hundreds of units of mana.
No wonder Madam Hooch in the original story hadn't rescued Neville—it would take too much magic to safely levitate a falling student. It was easier to let him fall, patch him up in the infirmary, and call it a lesson.
At least, that was Darren's guess—and he figured he was probably right.
Thinking this through, he stopped the spell midway and put away his wand, his face pale.
"Potter?" Malfoy asked, suspicious.
With Darren's character, why would he stop?
"No more magic!" Darren gritted his teeth, eyeing the broom. Then, with one sharp kick, he launched into the air.
Refreshing!
Flying felt natural—like he was born for it.
He half-joked to himself that with his triple flying talents, if he fell from the sky, he'd probably manage to fly back up before hitting the ground.
Cough. Focus.
Now wasn't the time for that.
He took a deep breath, sped toward Neville, and caught him midair.
The broom instantly tilted under their combined weight, plummeting downward.
Darren tried to stabilize it, silently cursing Hogwarts for keeping such dodgy brooms around.
This thing flies too high and wobbles like it's afraid of heights!
With Neville in his arms, the broom jerked around like it had eaten a bad Bertie Bott's Bean.
Has this broom developed sentience?
He made a mental note: Hogwarts should really get rid of these possessed brooms.
Near the ground, Darren yanked Neville off the broom and jumped with him, afraid it might fall apart midair.
"Oof!"
They hit the grass, tumbling into a heap.
> [Ding! Congratulations to the host for completing the mission perfectly. You've gained Neville's gratitude and acquired Dark Arts Affinity +2.]
Darren blinked in confusion.
Why Dark Arts again?
Sure, he was happy to earn a perfect rating, but this particular talent made him nervous. One day he'd end up in Azkaban at this rate.
"Oh, kids, are you all right?!" Madam Hooch rushed over, lifting both Darren and Neville to their feet. Her expression was stern but concerned.
"Neville, why didn't you listen? And Darren—you... how dare you fly that high? You could have crashed with him!"
She scolded them both sharply.
Darren quickly bowed his head, face flushed. "I'm sorry, Madam Hooch. I just wanted to save Neville. In the Muggle world, falling from that height would mean instant death, I—"
He trailed off, embarrassed. He'd forgotten that wizardkind had far more ways to avoid fatal falls.
"Well, well… my poor boy," she sighed, her tone softening. "Go on and rejoin your classmates. Neville! If you pull something like this again, I'll have to speak with Professor McGonagall about banning you from flight lessons!"
Neville burst into tears on the spot.
He'd already been terrified from the fall, and Madam Hooch's scolding nearly finished him off.
Darren couldn't help thinking that if this had been the Muggle world, Neville might've had a complete breakdown after class.
But this was Hogwarts.
Falling from a tower was practically a Tuesday. Parents would probably just hex their kids for worrying them.
Tragic.
He sighed, looking sympathetic.
"Oh, my child… you're too kind for your own good," Madam Hooch murmured. "Take Neville back to the others. And I'll take this broom to maintenance—don't want it causing more trouble."
> [Ding! Holy Father Value +80]
[Ding! Holy Father Value +50]
Darren blinked. Only two pings?
He'd just risked his life, and only got two notifications?
He turned to look behind him—
Yo.
Harry Potter was gliding gracefully down from the sky on a broom, Neville's crystal ball clutched in hand.
Of course. When he saved Neville, Malfoy must have made fun of the poor boy again.
But—
"Brother!" Darren cried suddenly, face pale.
He jumped back on his broom and shot toward Harry.
The two met midair, then landed together on the ground.
"Darren, you…" Harry blinked, puzzled. "Why did you come up, too?"
Darren's lips twitched. Because you're stealing my spotlight, that's why.
But of course he couldn't say that.
So he grabbed Harry by the collar, glaring with teary-eyed fury.
"You're insane! You don't even know how to fly yet, and you went that high! What if you fell? What if you died? What would I do then? You reckless, stubborn lion!"
> [Ding! Holy Father Value +30]
[Ding! Holy Father Value +50]
[Ding! Holy Father Value +40]
Perfect.
Harry froze, wide-eyed, then sheepishly scratched the back of his messy hair.
After being scolded, he realized Darren was right—he had been reckless. His back was soaked with cold sweat.
Only a brother would see that he'd been terrified the whole time.
Even Dudley wouldn't have cared if he'd fallen to his death.
But Darren… Darren had flown up after him without hesitation.
My brother is amazing, he thought with shining eyes. Thank you, Mum and Dad, for giving me such a wonderful brother!
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