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Chapter 167 — Filch Is Furious!!
Snape glared at the boy furiously.
He knew it — letting this cub dabble in mind-healing was absolutely not a good thing.
Under what circumstances would a child dare to use a spell like that?
If it had been a fatal curse, would this little idiot have tried to heal it and gotten himself killed?
"Potter," Snape snapped, "who gave you permission to touch anything here?"
If he hadn't arrived when he did, this Potter cub might've actually died on the spot.
"P-Professor… I just wanted to try… I thought I could maybe do something…"
Darren stammered helplessly, looking startled and nervous.
Still, he forced himself to explain that he was only trying to save the cat.
"Oh? And what exactly would you be able to do that a professor or the Headmaster couldn't? Hmm?" Snape sneered.
"Or perhaps you wanted to kill Harry Potter? No — kill the cat instead?"
"Professor, Lady— Mrs. Norris is petrified. Harry couldn't have done it," Darren said anxiously.
Snape looked into Darren's eyes — and for a brief moment, he saw Lily.
Lily, who had always been bright, gentle, and full of her own compassionate logic.
A passionate little angel.
Darren resembled her too much.
Snape found he couldn't even stay angry.
But he had to.
He couldn't let Darren grow attached to him.
As Dumbledore said: no Death Eater would care whether Harry Potter's little brother was innocent.
For Darren's sake — for his safety — Snape had to destroy any goodwill now.
So his expression hardened into icy disdain as he said, "Harry Potter couldn't have done it? Well, he didn't attend the feast. Neither did his two friends. If it wasn't them — who was it?"
He sneered sharply.
"Surely you aren't suggesting that someone deliberately framed them? How ridiculous."
"And as for you," he said coldly, turning to Darren, "you are suspicious too. You disappeared from the feast earlier, and now you magically reappear here. Perhaps you helped him… an accomplice to the act…"
"I'll be informing Dumbledore. The three of you may very well be expelled."
He expected Darren to look shocked, angry — maybe betrayed.
But instead, the cub seemed to think, as though trying to understand something Snape was implying.
And suddenly—
"Professor," Darren said, interrupting him and summoning all his courage, "actually… I did it."
Snape froze.
Darren continued earnestly:
"I… didn't like Mrs. Norris lately. So I… tricked her into coming here and petrified her. But it has nothing to do with my brother. Don't expel him. If someone has to be expelled — expel me."
Silence.
Snape felt something twist in his chest.
He should've known — he should never expect anything else from this cub.
Snape had deliberately provoked him, fed him accusations…
And instead of hating him, instead of resenting Harry —
The boy took all the blame himself to protect Harry.
"Darren didn't do it! And I didn't do it!" Harry shouted, furious.
Snape straightened with cold disdain.
A reckless Gryffindor. What else could he expect?
"Very well. I'll go ask Dumbledore what he thinks. Perhaps he will expel you."
He swept his cloak dramatically as he turned, black robes billowing behind him like a furious bat.
Harry watched Snape disappear, feeling his stomach drop.
Then he turned back to Darren, guilt tearing at him.
"Darren… I dragged you into this again…"
He had no idea what was going on — strange, horrifying voices kept whispering in his ears.
He'd heard the voice again on the way back from Nearly Headless Nick's Deathday Party.
The voice was so terrifying that he ran toward the corridor — only to stumble upon this scene.
They had wanted to leave quietly, but someone spotted them.
And now half the school was whispering that he had done it.
"It's okay, brother. I believe you," Darren said firmly.
Harry couldn't help smiling. Of course Darren believed him.
Darren always believed in him.
But the smile faltered — because that belief also meant Darren was dragged into Snape's accusations. Darren had even taken the blame to protect him.
And now they both might get expelled.
"Enemies of the Heir — beware! You're next, Scarhead!"
Draco Malfoy squeezed gleefully through the crowd.
He sneered at Harry—
Then spotted Darren.
His expression changed instantly, and he hurriedly backed up.
Brother or not, Darren beat him every time.
Even when Darren went easy on him, Malfoy always ended up pinned to the ground.
He had absolutely no desire to get beaten again tonight.
"What's all this? What's going on here?"
Filch shoved his way through the crowd.
Apparently Malfoy had screamed loudly enough to summon him.
Heir? Chamber? What heir? Filch thought irritably.
And then he saw her.
Mrs. Norris.
Lying stiffly on the floor, eyes frozen wide in terror.
Filch stumbled backward several steps, then grabbed his head with both hands and wailed:
"My cat — my cat!"
Darren's face grew even paler.
He hesitated, then walked toward Filch with genuine distress and placed a gentle hand on his arm.
"Sir… please calm down… Mrs. Norris…"
"It's your brother!" Filch shrieked, pointing a shaking finger at Darren's chest. "It's Harry Potter! You killed my cat!"
"I knew it! All this time you've been coming to clean my office — it wasn't to help me take care of your brother! No — you were trying to help him get close, weren't you?"
"You were plotting something! Both of you!"
"It's you! I'll kill you!"
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