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Chapter 203: Darren Begins to Regret It
"Severus… are you alright?" Dumbledore asked worriedly.
Snape's expression moments ago had made him fear a magical riot. Thankfully, Snape had quickly withdrawn his magic.
"I'm going to kill those bastards!" Snape's eyes glinted with murderous intent.
"Don't do that, Severus," Dumbledore said. "According to the picture, they haven't actually broken any laws…"
So, are you going to tell me,... Are you still going to let those people back to school and then one day really kill the Potter cubs?! "
Snape's pace grew restless as he circled the office. The emptiness in his eyes could no longer be masked. He gripped his wand tightly, shouting, "Dumbledore! You always… tolerate them, give them love… but are they worthy of it?"
Yes. In Snape's eyes, the Potter cubs barely counted. If they were gone, perhaps he'd feel relief. Perhaps he'd be satisfied.
And yet, he couldn't act, because Dumbledore always controlled the outcome.
He could make Harry Potter do as he wished, but he couldn't force Darren to die.
Snape's voice was sharp, full of rage. "You could have let him live in the Muggle world, Dumbledore! You never thought of it!"
Dumbledore's blue eyes glistened with tears. "Severus… don't say that. I never wished him harm. I regret my mistakes regarding Darren, but I never wanted him to die.
A child like Darren… I could never want him dead. I followed him only because I feared he might go astray. His existence made me worry that he might fall like Tom… but I never doubted that I could save him."
Snape listened, finding no words to rebut. Dumbledore could have ended Darren's life if he wanted, and yet he didn't. Still, it didn't quell the anger or unease in Snape's heart.
"You always like to control everything," Snape muttered sarcastically, glancing at the mess in the office and the shattered photo ball.
"That's my regret, Severus," Dumbledore admitted softly. "I am sorry… for you, and for that child."
Meanwhile, Darren made his way back to the Slytherin common room without obstruction. Dumbledore had ordered all students to suspend outdoor activities in their respective house lounges.
Upon his arrival, the lounge was packed, all eyes on him. Some students were even watching pirated versions of the Shadow Ball.
Though the images weren't as clear as the system-made original, they still captivated the viewers.
Darren's expression remained blank as he observed a student's Shadow Ball, which depicted his own performance, shouting, "Please… let them go… just let them go…"
He was beginning to regret it.
But…
[Ding, Father +50]
[Ding, Father +60]
[Ding, Father +70]
[Ding…]
As he stepped further into the lounge, his Father values skyrocketed.
Darren froze. He hadn't spoken, yet the system had rewarded him. Perhaps the Shadow Ball's impact had affected those students. The only uncomfortable aspect was seeing the crowd watch the image of himself displayed so openly.
"Darren…" Betsy suddenly stood. She held a Shadow Ball of her own and smiled warmly.
"I still have some things to do… I'll go first," he said, showing restraint and kindness.
[Ding, Father +80]
[Ding, Father +70]
[Ding, Father +90]
[Ding…]
This time, the reward was even higher. Darren felt almost moved—it was the first time Slytherin had granted him such considerable Father value.
"Yes, you can… Darren, are you feeling alright?" Betsy asked cautiously.
"I'm fine, sister… really," Darren replied. His face paled slightly as he recalled earlier events, but he forced a smile. It was weak, a little strained.
[Ding, Father +50]
[Ding, Father +40]
[Ding, Father +40]
[Ding…]
The Father value was significantly lower this time. Slytherin had returned to its usual restrained state. Darren sighed—how could these Slytherin students be as easily moved as Gryffindor's? Even Dumbledore's house often showed restraint during emotional moments.
"I'll go first…" Darren said finally, retreating to his room.
He needed a shower. Lying outside all night, letting the system fabricate so many wounds and blood, even cleaning up afterward didn't remove the grim feeling. He felt dirty.
Darren hurried to the bathroom. When he emerged, he saw Paige standing outside.
"Little master Darren… you're finally out," she said, dabbing tears from her face with a handkerchief. "I punished myself terribly after your injury… it was all my fault…"
Darren noticed the handkerchief was soaked. Paige had been crying for a long time.
"I'm sorry, Paige. It's not your fault. I worried you unnecessarily," Darren said.
[Ding, Father +100]
"The little master is always like this," Paige whispered, choking back tears. "It has nothing to do with the little master, yet the little master feels it's his fault. I was worried… I thought the little master might be gone… I didn't take good care… I should have been by his side… But the little master… he's incredible. I've told everyone how amazing he is…"
Darren looked up at the ceiling and sighed. Here it came again—Paige, the house-elf, was about to embarrass him once more.
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