---
Chapter 86 — The Gift Without a Name
Darren set down Mrs. Weasley's homemade toffee and picked up another bulging package from the floor.
It was from Hermione.
Inside was a heavy scarf, a pair of wool gloves, and—of course—a bag of Chocolate Frogs tucked at the bottom.
Darren was starting to suspect he could open a wholesale candy shop at this rate.
Only one gift remained.
He opened it.
There was no name.
Just a single book:
The Use of Dark Arts.
…What?
Who would send this?
Dumbledore?
Darren flipped through the pages.
The book described horrific spells—ones that could rip a person apart, liquefy someone into blood and vapor, or ignite the very air around them.
There were more ways to kill in the wizarding world than Darren had ever imagined.
Who said the Killing Curse was the worst?
Some of these made Avada Kedavra look gentle.
The spells even came with detailed instructions.
With Darren's Black Magic talent…
One read-through, and he immediately understood how to cast them.
His hands trembled around the book.
Was this some kind of test?
Was he supposed to prove his "purity" by turning this in?
Was he being set up to walk straight to Azkaban?
No—Dumbledore wouldn't send something like this. Suspicious or not, he wasn't reckless.
Which left only one possibility.
Voldemort.
Darren internally cursed.
How cruel could that man be?
What was he trying to imply?
Why give him a book like this?
And if Voldemort knew… did Dumbledore?
Regardless, he had to turn it in. Immediately.
He threw on clothes, skimmed the book one last time in panic, and sprinted toward Dumbledore's office.
He tried every password he remembered from the original novels, until—
"Honey Candy."
The stone gargoyle moved.
Darren slipped inside.
"Hm? My boy, shouldn't you still be opening your gifts?"
Dumbledore looked genuinely puzzled.
Darren thrust the book toward him.
"Professor, I don't know who sent this, but it came with my gifts this morning. I opened it and saw it was full of horrible Dark Magic—so I came straight to you."
"Good child, don't worry."
Dumbledore accepted the book and flipped it open. His blue eyes gleamed sharply. Clearly, he knew exactly who had sent it.
But another question bothered him.
Why Darren?
Was someone trying to lure the boy down that path?
Or had they sensed the… unusual similarity in Darren's soul?
His expression tightened, though he forced a gentler smile.
"Don't be afraid. The sender wants to lead you astray—down a path he calls eternal life."
"Phoenix?" Darren blurted before he could stop himself.
He meant Horcruxes, of course. But out loud, he pretended confusion.
"There wasn't anything about immortality in the book. Can someone really live forever after they die?"
Dumbledore froze.
He closed the book slowly, rubbed his forehead, and sighed.
"My child… that's called a long death, not eternal life. Eternal life means living on—continuously."
"That's not very interesting," Darren muttered.
He was actually curious about the wizarding afterlife. Harry had once asked Nearly Headless Nick after Sirius died. Nick said wizards could choose to return—but almost none did.
Which meant there was definitely something on the other side.
But that was for the far future.
Right now, he needed to stay alive.
He scratched his head and gave Dumbledore a shy smile.
"I'm still young. I'm not interested in that stuff."
"Yes," Dumbledore said softly. "That man misjudged one thing—you're still just a child."
He leaned back in his chair, the tension easing slightly.
"Don't worry about this anymore. Go enjoy Christmas. I imagine Harry must be awake by now."
"All right, Professor. Goodbye! Merry Christmas!"
[Ding,Holy Father points +80]
"And to you as well, my boy," Dumbledore said warmly. "Merry Christmas."
---
Darren hurried back toward Gryffindor Tower, and sure enough—Harry was already looking for him.
"Darren! Where were you?—Oh wow, that sweater looks amazing on you!"
Ron stood beside him, wrapped so tightly in his own sweater, scarf, and gloves that he looked like a walking yarn ball. He stared at Darren, baffled.
"How is he not freezing?" Ron muttered.
"Because Darren knows how to take care of himself," Harry said proudly, giving Ron a smug look that made him bristle.
Ron had always envied Harry a little.
His own older brothers teased him constantly—Charlie once turned a birthday gift into a giant spider, which still haunted him.
But Darren… Darren was sweet.
If Ron shouted "Darren! Fred and George are coming!" he felt like he might vomit from the sweetness.
Harry changed the subject.
"Darren, did you see the cat I got you?"
Darren reached into his robes, and a tiny milky-white kitten sleepily emerged.
"She's called Lezi."
"Lezi? But—she's a girl!" Harry said, startled.
Lezi rolled over in Darren's palm and immediately went back to sleep.
Actually… the name suited her perfectly.
---
--
---
---
---------------------------------------------------------------------------
Like it ? Add to library!
Have some idea about my story? Comment it and let me know.
Your gift is the motivation for my creation. Give me more motivation!
Creation is hard, cheer me up! VOTE for me!