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Chapter Seventy-Six: Sister Buys Him a Broom!!
Darren firmly refused Harry's idea of buying him a broom.
He truly didn't want one of his own.
It wasn't that he disliked flying—quite the opposite.
But Hogwarts didn't allow first-years to have personal brooms. Harry was only an exception because McGonagall herself intervened.
If Darren wanted the same privilege, Snape would have to submit a request to Dumbledore on his behalf.
And Snape…
Well, the second Snape saw him with a broom, he would be reminded of James Potter.
No chance he would help.
Darren sighed, a little deflated.
He didn't want to join Quidditch, but he did want to fly.
It was one of those simple boyhood dreams.
Even if, in his past life, "real men" dreamed of riding flying swords, a broomstick was practically the next best thing.
So instead, he followed Harry to the training pitch all afternoon.
He couldn't trigger any system tasks, and he only got to fly a little after Harry finished practice.
Ron kept nagging him not to talk, and Wood kept warning him not to fly too high.
It was stifling.
If he had known it would be like this, he would've stayed in the common room to try triggering quests instead.
Quests were far more important than a few minutes on a broom.
Huge mistake.
By the time the sky darkened, Darren trudged back to the Slytherin common room.
Only a handful of students were still awake.
He silently prayed a task might trigger if he came back—but nothing.
Absolutely nothing.
After a full day with zero gains, Darren could only return to his dormitory and promise himself:
Tomorrow he would definitely trigger something worthwhile.
A man without dreams was just a salted fish.
---
The next morning, Darren walked sluggishly beside Kassandra toward the Slytherin table.
He'd flown too late the previous day. His whole body screamed for more sleep.
But Slytherins insisted on eating together.
Terrible.
Kassandra watched him with an expression that flickered between wanting to speak and choosing not to.
In the end, she kept quiet and focused on her food.
Darren didn't notice.
He was busy stuffing himself—he needed energy for quest grinding.
Then—
"Oh my God!"
"Whose are those?!"
"That's insane!"
"Has Hogwarts lost its mind?!"
The Ravenclaw table erupted.
The Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs weren't far behind.
Darren looked up—
And froze.
Dozens of owls were swooping into the Great Hall carrying broomsticks.
Actual broomsticks.
"Whose… whose brooms are those?" Darren whispered in shock.
Yesterday Harry got one broom.
Today the whole school was buying them?!
People really were comparison-driven creatures.
He forced himself to stay calm.
His vault could buy dozens of brooms—he wasn't the type to envy.
But…
He was certain this never happened in the original story.
Did the author just forget to write it?
He was still mentally complaining when a broom flew directly toward him.
Darren blinked.
Looked at Harry.
Harry nodded.
So this was the broom Harry bought him.
Heart warming, Darren eagerly unwrapped the package.
A Nimbus 2000.
Just like Harry's.
There was even a folded note.
Why a note? They sat just a few tables apart.
Confused, Darren opened it.
"I hope you're happy."
—Becky Greengrass
Darren stared.
…Wrong person?
He glanced at Becky.
She lifted her juice to him with a small smile.
That—
That was definitely intentional.
So then… where was Harry's?
Before he could process anything, he noticed a frightening sight:
Hundreds of owls hovering over his head.
They were circling because there was nowhere to land—every single one carrying a broom for Darren.
The moment he finished reading Becky's package, the other owls dropped their brooms one after another.
Darren opened the next one.
Inside was another Nimbus and a note:
"You're like a little angel. Don't be sad."
—Hermione Granger
Darren nearly choked.
Hermione?!
Was she secretly wealthy?
Well—her family definitely wasn't poor.
He looked over and saw Hermione hiding behind her book, face bright red.
He reached for another broom.
Inside was an official document:
"Permission Granted: Darren Potter may use a broom under special exemption."
…What?
Darren looked to the staff table.
Snape sipped his tea with the most uninterested expression in the world.
Snape.
Snape had submitted the paperwork.
Impossible.
Completely, absolutely impossible.
By the time he finished, Darren had opened thirty-two brooms.
All Nimbus 2000s.
Twenty-seven from Slytherins.
One from Snape.
One from Harry.
One from Professor Flitwick.
One from Hermione.
And one anonymous.
He sent the anonymous one back.
When had the entire school suddenly become so good to him?!
He thanked every sender individually, then returned all the brooms—except Harry's.
His heart ached.
They were expensive.
Harry had used his vault money for that broom.
If Darren could, he would've returned Harry's too and used a cheaper one, but returning only one would look insulting.
So he kept Harry's.
---
By evening, Darren dragged himself back to the Slytherin dormitories, broom in hand.
To make the donors feel appreciated, he had flown all day.
But now?
He felt broom fatigue.
The second he touched Harry's broom, he thought:
Can I… return this?
Only the system's generosity comforted him—he'd triggered three tasks today.
Unfortunately, all three were ordinary "Holy Father Points" rewards.
Nothing special.
He sighed and forced optimism.
Luck was rare.
Misfortune was common.
At least he had briefly owned thirty-two brooms.
And—
Well…
That counted for something.
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