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Chapter 185 — Want His Little Life?!
Harry felt he had officially had enough.
Every time he played Quidditch, something terrible happened. At least, that's how it felt.
Maybe he was exaggerating… but not by much.
Last year, during his very first match, Quirrell had cursed his broom and nearly sent him plummeting to his death.
The second time, Snape was the referee, and Harry had been so terrified the man would sabotage him that he ended the match in under two minutes.
He missed the final match entirely after encountering Voldemort and waking up in the infirmary.
And now?
This year had felt like it would finally be normal—until it wasn't.
The sky had opened into a full storm right as the match began.
A rogue Bludger started hunting him like a heat-seeking missile.
He refused Darren's help—loudly, proudly—and swore he'd catch the Snitch before anything could happen.
Then, in the single second he paused to reach for it, the Bludger slammed into his arm.
That wasn't even the worst part.
The worst part was Lockhart. Harry had barely managed to process Darren running toward him, pale and terrified, before Lockhart swooped in like a glitter-covered vulture and—trying to "fix" his arm—removed every bone in it.
And now he was lying in the infirmary, arm boneless and flopping, wondering why fate hated him so much.
He wished Darren would just yell at him for being reckless. But Darren hadn't yelled. Darren had only gone paler, trembling, before being ushered away by Ron and Hermione.
Back in Slytherin, Darren wanted nothing more than sleep.
But Flint stopped him.
Marcus Flint—captain of Slytherin's Quidditch team, owner of a personality as charming as a troll with a migraine. This morning he'd bragged Slytherin would crush Gryffindor. They didn't. He should've been sulking in his dorm.
Instead, he walked up to Darren wearing a grin that belonged on someone plotting murder.
"I know a secret about your brother," he said calmly. "Do you dare wait for me tonight at the Black Lake? If you don't… I'll make sure his secret kills him next time."
A system notification chimed.
---
[Ding! Temporary task detected: respond with worried panic — "What secret? If this concerns me, fine, but don't you touch my brother!" Then agree to go alone to the Black Lake after midnight. ]
[Reward: Forged Card ×1]
A forged card?
What was that supposed to do?
And what was Flint planning? Some dramatic, petty revenge because the team lost? Beat him up?
Darren almost wanted to laugh.
Was this really the best Slytherin could come up with?
"Accept."
He instantly put on a terrified expression, grabbed Flint's collar, and stammered:
"W-What are you planning? If you need something, take it out on me—don't touch my brother!"
Flint blinked, startled by the intensity. Then he smirked.
"Heh. As if I'd tell you now. Go to the Black Lake after midnight. Leave a note saying you left the castle for a walk. If you go, fine. If you don't…" His grin widened. "Well, then Potter's secret won't stay secret for long."
He turned away, radiating triumph.
Darren had to fight the urge to roll his eyes.
Harry Potter? Being 'killed by his secret'?
Dumbledore hovered over Harry like an overprotective grandmother. The idea Flint could harm him was laughable.
But Darren stayed in character, voice trembling:
"I'll go. Just—please—tell me the secret? And please spare my brother. I'll do anything."
His voice cracked perfectly, like someone moments from tears.
Even Flint hesitated before regaining his smirk.
"Midnight. Black Lake. Don't be late."
---
At midnight, Darren left a note and slipped out. The castle was silent, eerie, lit only by the glow from Filch's office. Darren chose not to alert him and stepped into the cold night.
The main gate was slightly open.
So they already went ahead…
A dozen Slytherins were waiting by the Black Lake. Darren recognized every one of them—students who hated him, mocked him, envied him. Their expressions were a mixture of smugness and anticipation.
A group ambush?
A "lesson"?
Or something worse?
That would determine their fate.
The system chimed again.
---
[Ding! Reward received — Forged Card ×1]
Forged Card: Allows the host to rewrite the factual record of an event and replace it with a forged version.
Now that was useful.
He kept his expression soft and frightened, stepping toward them.
"I'm here… C-Can you tell me my brother's secret now? Please. Spare him. Do whatever you want with me instead."
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[Ding! Father Value +10]
[Ding! Father Value +5]
[Ding! Father Value +1]
[Ding…]
Darren blinked.
…What?
They were actually giving him Holy Father points?
These people came here planning to harm him… and they were touched?
Was this really a murder attempt, or were they all just extremely stupid?
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