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Chapter 119 — Hermione and Her Good Boy!!
"I'm all right, brother!"
Darren looked up at Harry's face, saw the tremble of anger and fear there, and quickly shook his head. He forced himself to stand straight, though his legs wobbled.
"Brother, truly—I'm fine."
He repeated it firmly.
Harry's jaw clenched. He wanted—truly wanted—to scold Darren for once. The Sorting Hat had to be joking. Darren was reckless in a way that made Harry look like a responsible adult.
This boy didn't have a shred of Slytherin self-preservation.
But at the same time… Harry understood what the Sorting Hat had meant when it called Darren "dangerously kind."
If only Darren had even one Slytherin instinct. If he could be just a little strategic… maybe he wouldn't be so willing to die for others.
"Darren, thank you," Ron said earnestly.
But Darren quickly shook his head. "No, Ron, don't say that. You and Hermione came into danger for my brother and me. I can't let you get hurt because of us."
His expression softened, sincere and painfully gentle.
"Brother, Ron, Hermione… I have the ability to save people. And I like saving people.
If one day I die saving someone, you should be happy for me. Because I will never regret it."
[Ding, Holy Father +100]
[Ding, Holy Father +100]
[Ding, Holy Father +100]
[Ding, Holy Father +100]
[Ding, Holy Father +100]
Five perfect pings.
Everyone froze—touched, shaken, a bit horrified by how sincere he sounded.
Darren, meanwhile, was relieved. Excellent. Those +500 definitely made up for the Obscurus strain from earlier.
He clapped his hands lightly. "All right, don't look at me like that. I'm not actually going to die. I'm very measured!"
Nobody believed that.
Darren? Measured?
They all knew the truth: the moment danger appeared, Darren would sprint toward it with open arms.
Harry exhaled shakily, wiped sweat off his palms, and said, "Let's keep going."
He gripped Darren's wrist as if afraid he'd run off again. The blend of pride, sorrow, fear, and fierce brotherly affection on Harry's face followed him as he pushed open the next door—
—and gagged.
A wave of stench hit them. A troll lay sprawled across the floor, skull bashed in, blood smeared everywhere.
"Ugh—let's go, I can't take this!" Ron choked.
They hurried out and into the next chamber.
They braced for something horrible—monsters, curses, traps.
Instead… seven bottles sat neatly on a table.
"It's Snape's work," Harry growled.
Darren opened his mouth to gently remind him: Professor Snape.
But he swallowed the words. Harry didn't want courtesy right now.
The four stepped inside—
—and purple flames roared up behind them, black flames in front.
They were trapped.
"Look," Hermione said, holding a parchment. She read aloud, "Danger lies ahead, safety behind. Two potions will help you. The fourth, second on the left, and second on the right… Though different in size, they taste the same."
Hermione smiled slowly.
She looked at Darren.
Darren laughed softly. "If I'm not mistaken, the smallest bottle lets you pass the black flames. The big round one on the far right is for going back."
Hermione clapped once, delighted. "Brilliant! I already checked your answer—it fits perfectly!"
Ron threw his hands up. "Can you two stop flirting and focus?! That tiny bottle has only one mouthful! It won't get all of us through!"
Hermione was rolling her eyes—mid eye-roll—when Harry suddenly grabbed the smallest bottle.
He looked deadly serious.
"This is where you stop," he said quietly. "I'll go in alone."
Before anyone could object, he drank the potion.
He glanced toward the large round bottle.
"That one's enough for two people. Pick two and go back—tell the professors Snape is ahead."
He turned to Darren.
"Oh, Darren, don't look at me like that. I'm your brother—I can't always stay behind while you protect me."
He smiled sadly.
"You said I'm going to save the world, right? Then the next step… I should take alone."
Before Darren could grab him—before he could argue—
Harry stepped into the black flames and vanished.
Darren froze for half a heartbeat—then turned to Hermione and Ron.
"Hermione, Ron—drink the return potion. Hurry to the professors. I'll stay here and wait for my brother. If something goes wrong, maybe I can save him in time. I'm very powerful, you know."
[Ding, Holy Father +100]
[Ding, Holy Father +100]
Only two pings this time.
He instantly understood.
Dumbledore must have already followed Harry in. Nobody believed Darren could go alone. So fewer people were moved.
Hermione gripped his hand tightly.
"Darren… don't worry. Harry will be all right," she whispered, voice shaking.
She split the round bottle with Ron.
"Ron, hurry—run faster!"
"What—why? You run faster than me usually!"
"Because if Harry or Darren are in danger, I need to get back quickly! Now RUN SLOWLY, you idiot—I'll run ahead!"
They passed through the purple flames bickering at top speed.
Even through the roar of fire, Darren still faintly heard:
"RON SLOW DOWN—NO WAIT, SPEED UP—NO, YOU'RE TOO FAST—MERLIN'S BEARD—!"
He chuckled despite himself.
"Hermione and Her Two Good Boys," he muttered, shaking his head.
Then paused.
…Wait.
Was he one of the Good Boys now?
No, no, that was the original story. Different timeline. Different dynamics.
Not the same. Not the same.
…Probably.
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