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Chapter 150 – Please, Please!!
"Severus… you can't simply override a student's will like that. Oh, poor little Darren…"
Professor McGonagall muttered as she followed behind Snape, who was carrying Darren toward the Hogwarts infirmary.
"Minerva, Severus is only worried," Dumbledore said gently, removing his glasses to rub his eyes. "The boy nearly tore himself apart."
He let out a long, heavy sigh.
"What an extraordinary display… though not a pleasant one."
"I don't agree at all," McGonagall snapped. "Harry had no idea Darren was even injured. If he had an ounce of the affection Darren has for him, he should have realized what kind of panic this would cause!"
Her frustration was justified. Barely half an hour ago, Harry Potter had been spotted flying a small green car across half of Britain.
Her office had received hundreds of owls demanding to know whether this was a special privilege granted to Harry Potter, or whether their own children could now arrive at school in airborne vehicles.
"And that's just what I received," McGonagall added stiffly. "I can only imagine how many complaints are sitting in your in-tray."
"Children make mistakes," Dumbledore replied calmly. "And mistakes are how they grow. Darren reacted strongly, yes, but the Ministry informed me that he was already badly injured before returning to Hogwarts."
McGonagall stared sharply at him.
"The Ministry says," Dumbledore continued, "that Darren saved Perenelle Flamel and was shot for it. Muggle weapons. They did what little healing they could, but Darren insisted on coming to Hogwarts immediately, so they sent him here as soon as they stabilized him."
McGonagall's expression softened—but only slightly.
"So we cannot place all the blame on Harry," Dumbledore said warmly. "He is a child as well."
"That may be true," she said tightly, "but he and Ron will still require discipline."
"Yes, Minerva. I trust you to determine the proper punishment."
Dumbledore smiled faintly.
"I'll go to the infirmary now. When Harry and Ron return, please inform me. And do resume the Sorting Ceremony—those first-years are terrified. If Darren knew he'd frightened them, he'd be devastated."
"Yes, yes… I'll go."
McGonagall turned back toward the Great Hall.
When she was gone, Dumbledore headed quickly to the infirmary.
Outside the doors, Snape sat hunched forward, hands clasped over his forehead.
He looked even grimmer than usual.
At the sound of footsteps, he lifted his head and attempted a sneer—but it collapsed midway, becoming something closer to a pained grimace.
"Severus," Dumbledore said softly, "calm yourself. Darren is stabilizing."
"Oh, truly?" Snape's voice was low, shaking. "The gunshot wound he brought back from the Ministry, the reopened injuries, the magic riot, the emotional collapse—yes, everything is perfectly fine!"
He swallowed hard.
"If the foolish boy hadn't worried about hurting anyone and forced himself back into control… he might have died."
His breathing hitched.
"Lily is dead. If the child she left behind—her last remaining piece—dies too… then tell me, Dumbledore, what has been the point of any of this?"
Dumbledore's eyes gentled.
"Darren is alive," he said firmly. "He will recover. And remember, Lily had two sons. Harry may have her eyes, but—"
Snape stared at him flatly.
Dumbledore cleared his throat and wisely stopped.
"Will you stay here awhile, Severus?"
"No. I'll wait for Harry Potter," Snape said coldly. "If Dumbledore believes I should 'be close' to the boy, then perhaps I shall."
Dumbledore blinked.
He wanted to object—but Snape was a Hogwarts professor; he would encounter Harry sooner or later.
"Very well," Dumbledore murmured. "Just… do be gentle. He is twelve."
"Gentle," Snape repeated with contempt. Then he paused and scowled at the front of his robes. "Blood."
Dumbledore nodded quickly. "Some of Darren's, I imagine."
Snape flicked his wand and evaporated the stains with a sharp, irritated motion, then stalked out of the infirmary.
---
Meanwhile, Harry Potter was having one of the worst days of his life.
Early that morning, he had been panicking about Darren being taken away by Nicolas Flamel.
Then, at King's Cross Station, the Weasleys had entered Platform Nine and Three-Quarters… but he and Ron were blocked out.
When they tried to ram the barrier, they crashed straight into solid brick.
In desperation, Ron proposed a "perfectly reasonable" plan.
According to him, underage wizards could use magic in emergencies.
And so, they took Arthur Weasley's flying car.
At first, it was exhilarating.
The sky was bright, the clouds looked soft as cotton, and both boys laughed as they chewed on toffees.
Harry even imagined how Darren would react.
He'd worry, of course.
But as long as Harry was safe, Darren would forgive him.
Ron imagined Fred and George begging to try the car next.
But the novelty wore off quickly.
The toffees made them thirsty.
There was no water.
The sun was hot.
The car sputtered.
Hours passed.
The sky darkened.
The engine groaned.
The entire vehicle shuddered as though coming apart.
But then—
"Look!" Ron croaked. "We're almost at Hogwarts!"
The car jerked violently.
"Please—just get us down safely—please—"
"Help—"
"It's almost here—!"
"Help!"
"It's going to fall—RON, PULL UP!"
"Please—please—!"
The boys began pleading with the car, coaxing, shouting, begging—
"Please… please…"
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