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Chapter Seventy-Two: Stealing Potions?!!
"Darren, tell me the truth—what happens if you don't go back to Slytherin?"
Harry's voice was tight with anger.
That Slytherin prefect had practically threatened Darren in front of him.
Did they seriously punish him… just for not eating in the Slytherin Hall?
Darren waved his hands quickly.
"N-no, it's nothing like that! You're overthinking it, brother. They just—uh—make me copy the Slytherin house rules, that's all!"
He tried to sound casual, but his heart skipped a beat.
Wait—was that really the punishment?
Didn't Snape used to make students copy the rules a hundred times and do detention?
No one had told him anything about that lately.
Had Snape forgotten?
Darren frowned slightly. Should he… remind the professor?
After all, as the self-proclaimed Holy Father, punishment must be accepted with humility! Otherwise people might think he was being fake!
Harry, however, was fuming.
"Copying the house rules?!" he barked. "Did Snape make you do that?"
Darren stammered again, trying to calm him down. But Harry's face said it all — he already believed it.
Snape, who acted kind in front of everyone, was secretly forcing Darren into punishments? Making him copy rules for missing meals?
Unforgivable!
Before Darren could explain further, a smooth, low voice slid into the conversation like a cold knife.
"Oh? And as a celebrity in this school, Harry Potter — Darren Potter's dear brother — what exactly would you do to me?"
Harry froze. His stomach dropped.
That voice.
He turned around — and there was Snape, his black robes sweeping across the corridor like a shadow.
Wasn't he supposed to be in the Great Hall? How long had he been standing there?!
"Of course," Snape said silkily, "I simply heard someone talking about their poor, mistreated Potions Master, and I thought I'd come over to ask—what rules has he broken now?"
The smirk that followed made Harry's blood boil.
Still, he forced himself to stand tall. "You can't punish Darren just for copying rules!" he snapped.
"Oh? That's my business," Snape drawled, raising an eyebrow. "Perhaps I should suggest to Professor McGonagall that you also copy Gryffindor's rules—for backtalking a teacher?"
He flicked his wand sharply. "Ten points from Gryffindor."
Harry's fists clenched. He almost looked ready to punch Snape.
Darren panicked.
If Harry actually hit him, Snape might "accidentally" cast something lethal out of sheer rage!
Before either of them could move, Darren darted forward, grabbed Snape's sleeve, and bowed his head.
"Professor, I—I'm sorry," he said quickly. "Harry didn't mean it. Please don't be angry with him."
Snape looked down at Darren's hand gripping his arm. His dark eyes flickered.
"Typical Gryffindor foolishness," he muttered. "But you—" he stared directly into Darren's eyes, "—you're supposed to be a Slytherin."
Darren quickly withdrew his hand, rubbing the back of his neck in embarrassment.
Snape's mouth twitched — not quite a smile, but something close to it.
"Mr. Potter," he said at last, "that reminds me — Professor McGonagall has arranged a week of detention for you. Starting tonight. Report to my office after dinner."
"Yes, Professor…" Darren murmured.
When Snape turned and swept away, Darren couldn't help but sigh.
Poor man.
A whole life spent loving Lily Potter, and now the only comfort he had was looking into her son's eyes.
"Potter! Are you coming or not?"
Kassandra's cold voice snapped him out of his thoughts.
Darren jumped. Right — she'd said she'd wait only a minute.
It had been much longer than that.
"I—I'm sorry!" Darren said quickly, bowing his head.
Kassandra's irritation melted a little at his pitiful tone.
"Just hurry up," she said, pointing toward the Slytherin table.
The Slytherins were already waiting. Darren hurried over and sat down beside Malfoy.
Malfoy smirked. "Heard you grabbed Professor Snape's arm. Did he give you detention for it?"
Darren nodded. "He did," he said honestly.
He didn't add that Snape had almost looked… pleased.
After all, to Snape, Lily's son showing closeness probably felt like some small redemption.
Men and their goddesses… utterly hopeless.
Darren bit into an apple pie, sighing inwardly.
"When will Hogwarts finally serve proper Chinese food?" he muttered.
Kassandra leaned close and whispered, "After you eat, Professor Snape wants me to take you to Madam Pomfrey. Don't run off anywhere."
Darren blinked, then realized—ah, right. He had fallen with Neville earlier during flying class. Snape must've been worried about hidden injuries.
He nodded gratefully and kept eating.
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Later that evening
After Kassandra escorted him from the infirmary, Darren walked to Snape's office for his detention.
He knocked softly.
No response.
He waited. Five minutes passed. Then ten.
Just as he was about to knock again, he saw a familiar figure coming down the corridor — Professor Quirrell.
Darren immediately straightened up and greeted him politely.
The man smiled… oddly.
"Ah, Mr. P-Potter," Quirrell stammered. "Why are you standing out here all alone?"
There was something strange in his tone — almost too kind.
Darren's instincts prickled. Something about Quirrell's expression didn't feel right.
Could it be Voldemort?
But… no, that didn't make sense. How would Voldemort know anything about him? Unless…
He couldn't figure it out. Better to play dumb.
"Professor Snape told me to report here for detention," Darren explained earnestly. "But he's not here yet, so I'm waiting."
Quirrell tilted his head. "Ah, I see… poor boy. Why don't you go back to your common room for now? Come back later, hmm?"
Darren blinked.
Wait. Did the professor just… offer to send him away?
Was Quirrell planning to steal something from Snape's office?
Stealing potions, maybe?
If Darren left now, that would be suspicious.
And according to his own saintly "character setting," he couldn't just abandon his post.
He smiled shyly and shook his head.
"Thank you, Professor, but I can't leave. I made a mistake, and waiting here might be part of my punishment."
Quietly, his hand slipped to his wand.
If Quirrell really was up to something — or worse, if Voldemort was here — he had to be ready to defend himself.
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