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Chapter Seventy-Four: The Same for Whoever Is a Cub!!
Darren stepped out of Snape's office in silence.
Lately, he'd noticed something… unsettling.
Snape's tone toward him was becoming more and more like the tone he imagined Snape might have used on his own child—if the man had ever allowed himself to have one.
And Darren couldn't bring himself to correct him.
Ah well.
To Snape, a cub is a cub. Doesn't matter whose.
He checked the time.
It was already late at night.
Which meant he had completely missed the so-called duel between Harry and Malfoy.
Still, he should at least check if everything was fine.
He climbed to the fourth floor—only to suddenly hear frantic footsteps.
"There's Darren!"
"Oh Merlin, Darren, what are you doing here?!"
"Filch is coming!"
"Peeves is coming!"
"Darren—RUN!"
Before Darren could even greet Harry, Harry grabbed a fistful of his robes and yanked him into a sprint.
Dragged forward like a loyal little towel, Darren could only follow the group according to his "kind, cooperative" persona—leaping forward just before everyone slammed into a locked door.
"It's over! We're dead!" Ron gasped.
A solid door blocked their escape.
"I think this is—" Darren began.
But Hermione was already raising her wand.
"Alohomora!"
The lock clicked open instantly. No one waited to hear what Darren wanted to say—they shoved him inside, then pressed against the crack of the door, listening for Filch and Peeves.
"Peeves! Where did they go?!" Filch snarled.
"You've got to say 'please' first!" Peeves cackled.
Darren was listening tensely when something jabbed his side.
He turned.
Neville was poking him.
He looked past Neville—
And froze.
A massive dog—no, a monster of a dog—towered over them. Its heads nearly brushed the ceiling.
Three heads.
Three pairs of vicious, gleaming eyes.
Drool dripping steadily onto the floor.
The breath left Darren's lungs.
Fluffy. The three-headed dog.
Hiss—
> [System: Convert 20 Talent Points to Beast Affinity?]
[Confirmed.]
[Conversion Successful.]
Warmth surged through Darren's body.
Suddenly the three-headed dog didn't look so murderous—more like an enormous, slightly confused puppy.
One of Fluffy's heads lowered gently toward him, sniffing him curiously.
Darren let out the breath he'd been holding.
Then he shoved Harry and Neville aside and shouted:
"RUN! RUN NOW!"
"Darren! Filch—" Ron started, thinking Darren was shouting too loudly.
But then he turned and finally saw Fluffy.
The blood drained from his face.
"DARREN!"
Harry panicked, immediately raising his wand and jabbing it toward one of Fluffy's heads.
Fluffy yelped, rearing back with a furious roar.
"You go first!" Darren shouted, looking heroically determined despite the fact that he looked like he might faint. "If you stay here, you'll block the doorway and I'll have no chance! GO!"
> [Ding! Holy Father Value +80]
[Ding! Holy Father Value +100]
[Ding! Holy Father Value +90]
[Ding! Holy Father Value +100]
[Ding! Holy Father Value +50]
Darren blinked.
Fifty?
That meant someone nearby wasn't overwhelmed with guilt or admiration… someone calm.
Ah.
Dumbledore.
Invisible under a cloak or hidden by a Disillusionment Charm—watching Harry, ensuring the "important" protagonist never died in the first place.
That explained how, in the original timeline, the trio hadn't been eaten.
Fluffy was terrifying. Even Darren, with all his tricks, wouldn't find it easy to deal with him without using Obscurus-born power.
But Harry?
Ron?
Hermione?
They should've been a midnight snack long before their "first adventure."
Darren sighed internally.
On the outside, he remained heroic.
Once the trio bolted through the door, he rolled out beneath Fluffy's snapping jaws and tumbled into the corridor.
Fluffy roared after him, all three heads shoving against the doorframe—more curious than murderous.
Honestly, he probably just wanted to play.
Big magical creatures tended to be simple like that.
Why else would he fall asleep to music?
Still, Harry and the others were horrified. They grabbed Darren, who was still sitting dazed on the floor, and practically carried him toward Gryffindor Tower.
"No—Harry—my dorm is in Slytherin…" Darren panted.
Harry stopped, torn with worry.
But Darren gently patted his arm.
"Don't worry. Worst case, Filch catches me and I get detention. As long as I don't go near that room again, I'll be fine."
Harry hesitated, then sighed. "All right. Just… be careful. And don't let Snape catch you out this late."
As Darren walked away, Harry watched his silhouette disappear into the shadows, his heart heavy.
He had challenged Malfoy to a duel earlier that day precisely because Malfoy mocked him, saying Darren would always stand in front of him.
Furious, Harry agreed.
But Malfoy had tricked them.
And once again, it was Darren who saved all of them.
If Darren weren't so strong… they would've died. All of them.
Why did the school have such a monster?
What kind of place was Hogwarts?!
Ron collapsed onto a couch the moment they reached the Gryffindor common room.
"That—thing—was terrifying!"
Harry barely heard him. His mind was still on Darren.
Was he safe?
Hermione suddenly spun on them, snapping:
"Do you two even use your eyes?! It was standing on top of a TRAPDOOR!"
"Trapdoor?" Harry echoed blankly.
"What does that mean?" Ron asked.
Hermione stared at them in disbelief.
"It means it's guarding something."
She huffed, furious.
"And I want the two of you to think about what just happened—we could have been expelled, or eaten alive, or gotten Darren killed! If you don't mind, I'm going to bed!"
She marched off in a storm of indignation.
Ron stared after her.
"It's like we dragged her along!"
Harry didn't answer.
He was thinking.
A trapdoor…
Something hidden beneath it…
He had a very bad feeling he knew exactly what it was.
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