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Chapter 120 — Meeting Voldemort!!
Darren slipped on the Invisibility Cloak Snape had secretly given him, braced himself, and stepped through the black fire.
The second he crossed the flames—
The cloak fizzled. Its magic collapsed like burning paper.
Before he could even react, it dissolved into nothing but a plain, ordinary cloth.
Voldemort and Harry both turned at once.
"Darren?!"
Harry's voice cracked in shock.
Darren rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. "Uh… I thought the bottle had a few drops left, so I drank it."
"GET OUT!" Harry shouted, voice breaking into panic. "Darren, go! NOW!"
"No."
Darren's face paled, but he stepped forward anyway, planting himself between Harry and Voldemort. "Brother, you're in danger. Why should I leave?"
His fists clenched. His legs shook. But his voice was steady.
"Brother… I'm not afraid of death."
[Ding, Holy Father +100]
[Ding, Holy Father +10]
[Ding, Holy Father +50]
[Ding, Holy Father +50]
[Ding, Holy Father +80]
…Five notifications?
Someone else was here besides Harry, Voldemort, and Dumbledore?
Snape.
It had to be Snape.
If Darren were being made to face Voldemort at eleven years old—even Snape would be horrified.
Even if he didn't like Harry, he would care about Lily's other child.
Voldemort finally spoke, voice slick and cold.
"Yes… the famous Harry Potter's brother. Darren… Potter."
Darren moved instantly, blocking Harry with his entire body.
His knees trembled. But he stared straight into Voldemort's eyes.
[Ding, host is preparing thoughts. Create forged memories?]
[Yes — transmit everything I'm thinking.]
[Ding, forged memories successfully implanted]
Darren took a slow breath.
Here we go.
Voldemort finally couldn't resist any longer. For nearly a year he had been circling Darren—Quirrell flattering him, Voldemort testing him, the encounter in the Forbidden Forest where Voldemort had pretended to brush him off lightly.
Now he was trying to read Darren's mind.
Trying to see whether this boy could be claimed as his.
So Darren fed him exactly what he wanted.
A childhood of pain.
Loneliness.
Bullying.
Hunger.
Fear.
The memories poured into Voldemort's mind—
A one-year-old, curled up and sobbing, calling for parents who never came.
A two-year-old who shared his scarce food even when starving.
A five-year-old beaten and mocked, shielding a smaller child through tears.
An eight-year-old too pretty for his own good, misunderstood, giving away his bread because he thought the girl must be hungry.
An eleven-year-old pushed down stairs, bleeding, wondering if dying meant his parents would never find him again.
Voldemort saw everything.
He also saw the memories of this last year—carefully edited.
Snape being unexpectedly gentle.
Snape tolerating his mistakes because he resembled Lily.
Snape worrying quietly.
Voldemort swallowed once.
Then his expression twisted into fury.
How dare those filthy Muggles touch his child?
He would kill them. All of them.
This boy was just like him.
Raised with the same cruelty.
Marked by the same loneliness.
Yes.
Yes.
He must be his.
A rightful heir—except for one flaw:
This child still had… love.
Disgusting.
A weakness placed there by Dumbledore, no doubt.
Voldemort even found the memory Darren had "modified"—the scene staged in Dumbledore's office.
So.
Dumbledore had meddled with his child's mind.
Tried to brainwash him with his pathetic "love" philosophy.
Tried to turn the Dark Lord's heir into a creature of sentiment.
Voldemort's anger simmered like poison.
But he wouldn't correct Darren now.
He needed the Philosopher's Stone.
He needed strength.
When he returned to power, he would reclaim the boy.
He would raise him properly.
The wizarding world itself would train his successor.
Snape, too—yes.
The man clearly doted on the child.
He would bow before the Dark Lord's heir.
Voldemort finally looked Darren in the eyes and asked:
"Why aren't you surprised it's me?"
He had already seen the answer in the forged memories.
The child had never suspected Snape.
Good.
Very good.
Darren answered softly and earnestly:
"No… I never thought it was Professor Snape. He's always been good to me. Even if Harry doubts him, I don't. I know when someone is kind to me. How could I suspect him?"
He took a breath.
"As for you… at first I didn't think it was you. But earlier, I started to feel it was possible.
The day I served my detention in Professor Snape's office… you were there. You felt suspicious."
[Ding, Holy Father +100]
[Ding, Holy Father +100]
[Ding, Holy Father +100]
[Ding, Holy Father +100]
[Ding, Holy Father +1]
One pity point at the end—Snape must've rolled his eyes somewhere nearby.
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