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Chapter 235 — Kassandra's Doubt!!
Kassandra stood in the middle of the Slytherin common room, staring at "Darren" with a faint frown. Something felt… off.
Why was that idiot suddenly looking so fragile today?
That wasn't how he normally behaved.
Was it because he had nowhere to stay during the holidays and was feeling miserable?
But didn't he have Harry Potter clinging to him all the time?
For that guy, wasn't "as long as Harry Potter is there, everything is fine"?
Kassandra was puzzled.
But she said nothing.
Strangely, she didn't feel the usual urge to pick a fight with him today. She didn't even feel like mocking him.
Maybe it was because it was Christmas—seeing him look this pitiful must've softened her.
"Hmph. Not even wearing a new set of robes for Christmas," she muttered.
She clearly remembered giving him two brand-new robes. Why wasn't he wearing either of them?
And the one he had on now—wasn't this the set gifted by that Gryffindor girl last year?
Did this fool really like Gryffindor things that much?
"Tasteless idiot!"
She scoffed again.
But as she stepped into the girls' dormitory, she couldn't help glancing back, uncertainty flickering in her eyes.
Usually when she scolded him, that idiot would immediately apologize with a guilty face.
Even if he didn't understand what he'd done wrong, he would instinctively bow his head.
He simply hated making girls angry—probably a habit from growing up in the orphanage.
She didn't like that habit.
But she had no right to intervene in his life.
There was nothing she could do except stay silent.
Except today… that stupid, timid apologizing wasn't happening.
"Potter?"
Kassandra's voice sharpened.
Hermione—still disguised as Darren—looked back with Darren's usual gentle, confused expression.
Kassandra's confusion only deepened.
She suddenly asked, "Potter, did Professor Snape make you copy the Slytherin House rules?"
"Professor…? No, he didn't ask me to copy anything…"
Hermione acted surprised, perfectly mimicking Darren's tone.
Kassandra's suspicion faded—though not completely.
She lifted her chin with her usual pride.
"Then why aren't you going into your dormitory? You always go straight in."
"Yeah, Potter. You're not eavesdropping on us, are you?"
Malfoy narrowed his eyes, clearly suspicious now. His hand slipped toward his wand.
Hermione's heart plunged.
Harry and Ron went pale.
Because they suddenly remembered—Darren's dormitory door required Darren's permission to open.
Thanks to Hermione's earlier crying, Kassandra had started doubting them.
And Malfoy, inspired by her suspicion, was now doubting too.
If they got caught here… that would be a disaster.
Hermione forced Darren's usual embarrassed expression and walked toward the boys' dormitory.
Thank Merlin she'd asked Darren for his room number beforehand.
Subtly checking the plaque, she found Darren's door.
Her palm was sweating as she reached for the handle.
She threw Harry and Ron a quick, silent signal:
If it doesn't open—run.
As long as no one saw their real faces, they would be fine.
After all, Darren would never expose them.
"Crabbe, go block the stairs."
Malfoy suddenly jerked his chin toward Ron.
"Huh? Ah—okay…"
Ron stumbled forward, saved only because Harry shoved him before he reacted, making his clumsy movement look perfectly in character.
Harry was terrified Malfoy would notice Ron's behavior.
But… no.
Apparently Crabbe behaved like this all the time.
Malfoy didn't question it at all.
Instead, he leaned close to Harry, whispering smugly:
"If this Darren—Darren Porter—is fake, then I'll get a prefect's commendation.
Maybe it's a Death Eater disguise! If I expose it, I might even get the Order of Merlin.
My father can help, of course. He can get me anything."
Harry almost choked.
Darren earned the Order of Merlin through countless risks and hard work—Lucius Malfoy had nothing to do with it.
Dumbledore recommending Darren was the only reason it was guaranteed.
But Harry couldn't say a word.
He was too busy sweating.
Because Darren's door—according to Snape—should be sealed unless Darren personally approved someone.
Snape set it up to protect Darren from Slytherin retaliation.
If anything happened to Darren inside Slytherin, Dumbledore would skin Snape alive.
Harry agreed it was a smart idea.
Just… currently inconvenient.
Darren wasn't here.
There was no way his room would open for them.
Harry tightened his grip on his wand, muscles ready to sprint—
But.
Hermione pressed the handle—and the door swung open effortlessly.
Malfoy lowered his wand, looking deeply disappointed.
Harry knew that look.
Malfoy was mourning the Order of Merlin he'd never receive.
But Harry now realized something important:
Darren must have set the door to allow anyone in Slytherin—because that was just who Darren was.
Softhearted. Too softhearted.
Thankfully, no one else knew the mechanism.
If they did, Darren would never have peace.
Harry shuddered imagining Hermione getting caught crying in front of Snape.
Turning into himself in front of Snape?
He felt his stomach twist.
Snape was absolutely his natural-born nemesis.
"Well, Crabbe, come here. I'll show you something good."
Malfoy's tone turned gleeful.
"My father sent it today. You'll love it…"
A nasty smile curled over his face.
"It has to do with Scarhead and that red-haired Weasley.
Just look—this news is going to keep me entertained all day."
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