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Chapter 84 — Homelessness
Christmas was coming.
Snow fell over the castle in thick white layers.
Darren spotted the Weasley twins chasing Professor Quirrell and pelting the back of his turban with snowballs.
It made him nervous.
What if Voldemort suddenly lost his temper and Avada Kedavra'd everyone on the spot?
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[Ding! The system has detected a Holy Father scenario near the host. Temporary task issued:]
• Stop the Weasley twins from chasing Quirrell.
• Reprimand them for disrespecting a professor.
[Reward: Dark Magic Talent +2]
Accept task?
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Darren didn't want to.
Not because he was lazy—he simply didn't want that reward.
After all his grinding, he already had nearly 58 points in Dark Magic Talent.
At this point, he felt like he was speedrunning his way into Azkaban.
But… a reward was a reward.
With a sigh, he accepted.
[Accept]
His expression shifted from enjoying the snowfall to looking deadly serious.
He marched toward the twins, voice sharp.
"What are you doing? How can you bully a professor? Professor Quirrell gives us difficult lessons, and you think throwing snowballs at him is funny?"
Child, stop provoking the man. If he snaps and ignores the plot, he'll Avada you first.
---
[Ding! Dark Magic Talent +2]
Darren pinched the bridge of his nose.
Fine. He'd take it.
He glared even harder.
"Oh look, it's the great Darren Potter! Everyone scatter!"
"Here comes the Prince of Gryffindor—Harry Potter's royal brother!"
The twins ran off laughing—
—only to come face-to-face with Professor McGonagall, who looked absolutely furious.
"Detention! Weasley! Twenty points from Gryffindor!"
Both boys froze mid-step.
Professor McGonagall continued, voice sharp enough to cut ice.
"You two dare throw snowballs at a professor's head? What next—will you start on me?"
"Professor—!"
"One each. Twenty points. And yes, I'm deducting points from my own House. Be grateful I didn't take more."
Devastated, the twins slunk away.
Only then did she look at Darren, her expression softening.
"Good boy. Did that scare you?"
She still couldn't understand how this child wasn't sorted into Gryffindor.
The Sorting Hat must have been having a malfunction that day.
"No, Professor. Thank you," Darren said, scratching his hair.
His already-messy tuft stuck up even more, making him look like a startled chick.
Professor McGonagall's lips twitched.
Before she burst into undignified laughter, she hurried away.
Darren sighed.
He hadn't even had time to raise his "Holy Father value" with her.
He looked around—Quirrell had already slipped away.
As he headed into the castle, he felt eyes on him.
Someone was watching.
But once inside, the feeling vanished.
Still, the castle wasn't exactly warm…
Darren, who had lived with heating his whole life, felt like he'd been shoved into a freezer.
Even bundled in thick robes and a scarf, he still shivered.
Potions class was the worst.
Cold, damp, underground, and Snape refused to light a fire.
Something about "interfering with the potion's properties."
As if hypothermia wasn't worse.
Every class, Darren seriously considered climbing into the cauldron.
A hot potion bath sounded heavenly.
Everyone was miserable by now and waiting for the holidays.
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"I really pity those who have to stay here over Christmas," Malfoy sneered at Harry during Potions, spotting his name on the stay-behind list.
Malfoy had been quiet for a long time after learning Harry wasn't his brother…
But he had recovered his sass today.
Pansy nudged him sharply.
"Draco," she whispered, "that's cruel…"
She nodded at Darren.
Malfoy followed her gaze.
Darren's eyes were a little red as he stirred his potion.
Ah.
Right. Darren was also "homeless."
If Harry Potter had no home, his twin brother didn't either.
"I…" Malfoy stiffened.
He wanted to say Harry Potter might be homeless but Darren belonged to him—
—but then he remembered his father's words:
We do not recognize that child.
"Must I apologize for everything?" Malfoy muttered awkwardly.
He shot Harry a glare.
Your brother is sad and you're still calmly brewing your potion? Useless!
Harry, clueless, thought Malfoy was still salty about the Snitch match.
Harry wasn't sad. Not even remotely.
He laughed to himself.
He didn't want to return to the Dursleys anyway.
Christmas at Hogwarts felt like paradise.
He had Darren.
He had Ron.
He had friends.
He had food.
And he didn't have to dodge Aunt Petunia's frying pans.
Pure bliss.
Because of Harry's annoyingly cheerful mood, Malfoy took another shot at him after class, mocking his scar.
Then he insulted Ron for being poor and for "begging off Harry."
Ron nearly punched him—
—right as Snape entered.
Gryffindor lost another twenty points.
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