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Chapter Seventy-One: Advises You to Hurry Up!!
"Oh, I'm used to their rudeness," Hermione said softly, wiping her tears. "After all… I'm just a filthy Mudblood, right?"
Her voice cracked on the last word.
She had endured endless mockery since the first day she entered the wizarding world. Her father had nearly been killed that day—if Darren hadn't saved them, she might have lost him forever.
Dumbledore had personally promised to make her father forget the attack before she came to Hogwarts, but the memory still haunted her.
Since arriving, Hermione had thrown herself into study, desperate to prove herself. She wanted to show everyone that being Muggle-born didn't make her any less of a witch.
But the harder she worked, the sadder she felt.
No matter how much she studied, she was never ahead of Darren.
She wasn't as popular as Harry.
She wasn't as easy to like as Ron.
If it weren't for seeing Darren every day, she might have given up entirely.
---
> [Ding! The system has detected an emotional fluctuation nearby.]
[Temporary Mission: Comfort Hermione and dispel her thoughts of dropping out of Hogwarts.]
[Reward: Changeable Quill (can write in any font or style). Accept mission?]
[Accept.]
---
Darren hadn't expected Hermione to ever think of leaving Hogwarts.
He smiled gently and sat her down on the grass beside him.
"Well, you know," he began with an easy laugh, "Harry's mum and I—we're both Muggle-born too."
Hermione blinked in surprise.
"Really?"
"Of course," Darren said. "There's no mention of it in the school records, but Lily Potter came from a Muggle family. Harry and I both grew up in the Muggle world. Harry was even left with our aunt by Professor Dumbledore himself."
He leaned forward slightly, his voice soft.
"So, Hermione… you're not any worse than us. You're incredible, actually. You've already learned so much. Me? Before I came here, I hadn't even opened a spellbook. And look—I was Sorted into Slytherin, the house everyone hates, and people ostracize me all the time. But am I unhappy?"
He smiled. "Not a chance."
Hermione stared at him for a moment—then laughed weakly through her tears.
"Oh, Darren… I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make you talk about something sad. You really are… too kind. Like a little angel."
Her cheeks flushed as she realized how close they were sitting.
"Um—I should go! Thank you for comforting me!"
She stood up quickly and ran off toward the castle.
---
> [Ding! Mission complete. Reward acquired: Changeable Quill.]
Changeable Quill: Child, perhaps try changing your handwriting?
Darren winced.
"Oi… my handwriting isn't that bad," he muttered under his breath.
Sure, his penmanship might not match Dumbledore's elegant script, but it had character!
Cough.
Still, maybe he'd practice later. With his talent, mastering a new style would only take a day—two at most.
He brushed the grass off his robes and stood.
Hermione might have calmed down for now, but Darren knew she'd still need her own adventure—something that would make her truly love Hogwarts, just like in the original story.
And that part would come soon enough.
---
As he walked back toward the castle, the crowd of students was returning from the grounds. Darren followed, only to see Malfoy and Harry arguing again near the steps.
He approached just in time to hear them talking about dueling.
"No, Malfoy! What are you thinking?" Darren said quickly. "If you get caught sneaking out for a midnight duel, you'll be expelled!"
Malfoy sneered, puffing up proudly. "Don't worry about me, Potter. Crabbe will be my second. What about you, scarhead? If you're really brave, meet me for a wizard's duel at midnight. Or are you going to hide behind Darren again?"
Darren frowned, opening his mouth to stop him—but Harry's temper flared first.
"I don't hide behind Darren!" he shouted. "He's my brother! If anyone needs protecting, it's him—and I'll be the one doing it!"
Malfoy's grin widened.
"Then it's settled. Midnight, the trophy room. Doors are never locked."
With a smug tilt of his chin, Malfoy turned and grabbed Darren by the arm.
"Come on, Potter," he said. "Dinner time. If you miss another Slytherin meal, you know what happens."
Darren tried to pull free. "Wait—I still need to talk to my brother!"
Harry raised his wand instantly. "Let go of Darren!"
Darren froze, torn between them—when suddenly, a pale, slender hand caught the back of his robe.
It belonged to a girl.
"I'm a first-year prefect from Slytherin," she said smoothly. "It's my duty to take one of our students back to the common room, isn't it?"
Harry's eyes narrowed. He recognized her—the cold, sharp-eyed girl who always seemed to sit with Darren.
Kassandra.
"What's wrong with him sitting with us?" Harry snapped.
Kassandra tilted her head, her smirk razor-thin.
"Well, perhaps we should ask little Potter himself," she said, looking directly at Darren. "Tell your brother—what happens if you stay here for dinner instead of returning with us?"
Darren's face went pale. He shook his head quickly, silently pleading with her not to say it.
Kassandra's expression hardened.
"Then you'd better explain it to him fast," she said coldly. "Because if you don't come now… you know what the consequences will be."
She released his robe and crossed her arms, waiting.
If it hadn't been for Darren begging Slytherin to keep his punishments secret after his last incident, Harry would already know how harshly his twin was treated.
Kassandra had been this close to spreading it—mostly out of spite and curiosity. But Darren's quiet humility had thrown off all her plans.
Hmph!
She turned away with a flick of her hair.
"Hurry up, Darren. I'll wait for you for one minute."
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