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Chapter Ninety-Six
This Is Going Too Far!!
Narcissa's eyes were slightly red.
She pressed her fingers hard against her forehead and let out a bitter, shaky breath.
She hadn't expected to dream of that incident — the one Snape had helped her forget with the antidote.
The memories had vanished then… but now, after waking, every moment had come rushing back.
And her heart still ached.
Ridiculous, she told herself.
A Black should not crumble over something so small.
A Black cared about lineage, tradition, advantage — nothing else.
Her father had raised her that way.
A strict childhood, cold expectations, and a single command that shaped her entire life: preserve the purity of the family.
So she married Lucius.
Followed the Dark Lord.
Played the role her parents wanted.
Even when the Dark Lord's ideology unsettled her, she stayed.
Power mattered more than principles — at least, that was what she had been taught.
But that boy…
That unknown child from so many years ago…
He had shown her something she'd never been given:
A pure, instinctive willingness to protect her without asking for anything.
Lucius loved her, yes, but his love required her to remain pure-blood and loyal to the Dark Lord.
Draco loved her, but Lucius had shaped him. Draco was becoming like his father — obsessed with blood status and influence.
One day she overheard Draco use the word "advantage," and something inside her went cold.
She walked away without saying a word.
What more could she even expect?
She had everything society envied — power, luxury, a respected name.
But the innocence she once saw in that strange boy…
That, too, had been washed away by time like water over stone.
Narcissa allowed herself one final moment of weakness.
Then she straightened her shoulders, drew in a slow breath, and lifted her chin with practiced Malfoy dignity.
She would not be vulnerable again.
After dressing herself impeccably, she considered making afternoon tea plans with the other pure-blood ladies.
But then — her mirror trembled.
Her two-way mirror from Draco.
Narcissa's heart jumped. Draco rarely contacted her from school. Something must be wrong.
The moment she activated the mirror, she froze.
Draco's little face filled the glass… with a dark, purple-black bruise ringing his eye.
"Mother! Darren Potter hit me!"
He shoved his face closer, as if to ensure she saw every mark — including the slight smudge of paint he'd added.
Narcissa's expression hardened with cold fury.
"Who did this to you?" she asked, voice sharp as a blade.
"Darren Potter," Draco said quickly. "Harry Potter's brother. He punched me right in the eye!"
Narcissa stayed silent for a beat.
She knew Draco exaggerated.
She also knew someone had dared lay a hand on her son.
That alone was unforgivable.
She slammed the mirror shut and called sharply, "Dobby!"
The elf appeared instantly, trembling.
"Go fetch Lucius. Tell him our son has been attacked. He will not let this insult stand."
"Y-yes, my lady…"
Dobby vanished.
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That afternoon — Dumbledore's office.
"Albus, this must be a misunderstanding!"
Professor McGonagall burst through the door, breathless and furious.
"One punch is not grounds for expulsion! I absolutely object—"
"No, no, Minerva. Please — breathe."
Dumbledore held up a hand, smiling helplessly.
The office was packed.
Professor McGonagall.
Professor Flitwick.
Madam Hooch.
Madam Pince.
Even Madam Pomfrey.
Every professor who was fond of Darren — meaning nearly all of them — had rushed over.
Except Snape, of course.
And the cause of this chaos?
Darren stood in the center looking small, pale, and deeply guilty.
"Professor… I'm sorry…" Darren murmured.
He hadn't meant for this.
He was only trying to play the saintly brother.
But Hermione had grabbed him and dragged him here — and then rounded up every professor she could find.
Dumbledore rubbed his temples.
"Perhaps," he sighed, "there should only be so many people involved…"
He looked at Darren, torn between amusement and exhaustion.
The boy was genuinely kind — but trouble followed him like a shadow.
No, he corrected himself. Trouble was drawn to him.
It reminded Dumbledore of the way fate stuck to the Potters in general.
He exhaled deeply and addressed the professors:
"My friends, this is not just about a punch…"
He had wanted to continue — to admit his own failure.
He had missed James's bullying of Severus once.
And now he had missed Malfoy's bullying of Neville.
It wasn't violence Darren had exposed — it was Dumbledore's negligence.
And Malfoy's father — a school governor — had allowed his son to torment others while threatening to get Darren expelled?
That boy had taken things too far.
This was an inch past the line — and Dumbledore was done tolerating it.
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