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Chapter 172 – There Is Murder in Her Eyes!!
Snape stared expressionlessly at the boy standing before him.
There was something about this child—something that made it impossible for him to keep his emotions in check. The boy was infuriatingly kind. Even when everything he said was clearly a lie, he didn't show anger, only worry and pain for others.
He had just been beaten by Filch… nearly stabbed… and yet he still defended the man.
And now, here he was, looking at Snape with pleading eyes, silently asking him for help.
Snape pressed his lips together.
What gave this foolish child the illusion that I would help him?
He glared, silently telling Darren not to be ridiculous.
Every word Dumbledore said carried purpose—Snape wasn't about to interfere with that.
But that look in Darren's eyes…
With an irritated huff, Snape finally sneered and said, "Since the injured party isn't pressing charges, I see no reason the Headmaster should dismiss anyone so casually."
Ridiculous little cub, he thought.
He'll forget every bit of the pain from being beaten. Perhaps I ought to beat some sense into him myself one day.
Dumbledore chuckled softly, the sternness gone from his face, replaced with warmth.
"My dear child," he said kindly, "you certainly have the right to decide how to handle matters with Mr. Filch. As for you, Argus—consider this a lesson, yes?"
Filch nodded frantically, eyes wet.
"I'm sorry, Darren… I was out of my mind earlier. I should've known—someone like you would never do such a thing."
Darren checked Filch's favorability.
It had jumped to 75.
Keeping Filch at Hogwarts had clearly been the right choice.
Filch sniffled and leaned forward earnestly.
"Darren, rest assured—if your brother Harry Potter breaks school rules again, I'll secretly let him go—I mean, I'll punish him harshly! Yes! Very harshly!"
He winked exaggeratedly.
A long string of snot dangled from his nose, making the sight simultaneously disgusting… and oddly pitiful.
"That's settled then," Dumbledore said. "Now—Severus, I'll need you to handle the Mandrake Restorative Draught—"
But he was interrupted by an enthusiastic voice.
"Headmaster! Leave it to me!" Lockhart declared dramatically. "I'm so skilled with this potion, I could brew it in my sleep!"
Snape's expression twisted.
"I believe I am the Potions Master of this school," he said icily.
The last thing he wanted was to let this walking embarrassment brew a crucial cure. He could already imagine Lockhart ruining the mixture and then blaming Darren's formula.
Lockhart opened his mouth to argue—then shut it quickly when Snape's murderous glare landed on him.
Later that night, Harry and Darren left the Headmaster's office together.
"Darren… I'm sorry," Harry muttered, guilt heavy in his voice. "I didn't protect you. What happened to your arm?"
Every time, Darren helped him. And every time, Harry caused trouble for him.
"It's fine!" Darren said quickly. When Harry still looked doubtful, Darren lifted his shoulder. "See? It healed fast. I just forgot to cast a healing charm on myself earlier…"
He looked embarrassed to admit it.
Harry scowled.
"If you know healing spells, then why did you go clean Filch's office? If I'd known, I would've never let you. You wiped tables for him—Darren, you're a wizard!"
Darren lowered his head. "Mr. Filch hates magic. I only wanted to help my brother. I'm sorry…"
"You—" Harry groaned and rubbed his face. "It's me who should apologize. I won't scold you anymore."
Darren was impossible to stay mad at. Every time, he was just trying to help.
Maybe Harry really needed to stop getting into trouble…
But trouble loved finding him.
"Alright, Darren—go back to sleep."
Harry gently pushed him toward the corridor. Then he returned toward Gryffindor Tower with Ron and Hermione, still frowning.
"What's the Chamber of Secrets? And who's this heir supposed to be?" he asked.
Ron shrugged.
"Bill told me Hogwarts had some secret chamber, but we never knew if it was real. And no clue what's inside."
Over the next few days, the entire school buzzed with rumors about the Chamber and the heir.
And because of the things Snape and Filch had blurted out… some students began suspecting Darren.
He was in Slytherin.
He was Harry Potter's younger brother.
He definitely looked like someone who had the ability to petrify a cat…
A few even tried to confront him between classes.
But the moment they stepped forward, the Slytherin second-year prefect appeared—Kassandra Vorre—her expression glacial.
Her eyes were sharp, cold, and full of barely restrained violence.
Students who met her gaze backed away instantly.
Justin Finch-Fletchley whispered nervously, "There's murder in her eyes… I—I saw a murderer once…"
Justin had been on track for Eton before Hogwarts accepted him. He trusted his instincts.
And his instincts told him Darren was absolutely the Heir of Slytherin.
Even Mrs. Norris being petrified had to be Darren's doing.
The kindness Darren normally showed?
A façade.
"I read about it," Justin whispered dramatically in the library. "Voldemort acted like a model student too. Darren Porter is walking the same path."
Harry nearly stormed over to shut him up, but Darren pulled him back.
"It's alright, brother. I don't care. I just want you to be okay."
But even so, Harry's eyes darkened.
He clearly minded the rumors very much.
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