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Chapter 247 — Vindictive Pride!!
Dumbledore watched Darren leave and felt a wave of absurdity wash over him.
Gellert… actually had a child.
Even though it had nothing to do with him, hearing Grindelwald explain Darren's bloodline stirred emotions he thought long buried.
Ah, yes—
those two months together in Godric's Hollow…
It had taken them both a lifetime to loosen their grip on that memory.
Dumbledore still loved Grindelwald.
He simply thought they were now too old—better to stay apart than reopen old wounds.
But Darren had unintentionally forced them to speak—really speak—again.
When Grindelwald revealed the Deathly Hallows they had exchanged in their youth, Dumbledore's old face nearly blushed.
Agreeing to let Grindelwald out of Nurmengard was probably the most irrational thing he had ever done.
But in the face of Grindelwald's manner of asking… he softened.
He only remembered whispering at the end:
"Grindelwald… if you deceive me again, I will bring you ruin…"
If the man ever lied again, Dumbledore would not forgive him—not even in death.
---
"Oh, Darren! You should have told us before being called away by Headmaster Dumbledore!
If Professor McGonagall hadn't told us where you went—we would've all died from panic!"
Hermione rushed up, breathless.
Her eyes were full of worry—both because Darren had disappeared and because he had been summoned to Dumbledore's office.
Darren blinked.
Professor McGonagall?
Wasn't it usually Snape?
Snape out of favor?
Ah—right.
He hadn't been spoiled by anyone.
Snape must have reported to McGonagall.
Ever since finding out Darren shared his blood, Snape had been trying to avoid him at every opportunity.
He seemed determined to sever all association at a distance.
Tsk.
But Darren's priority was answering Hermione.
He instantly put on a guilty expression.
His mouth opened and shut helplessly.
He wanted to say he "forgot"… but he couldn't lie.
So he just stood there, saying nothing.
"I'm sorry… I… before… I forgot.
Yes—I forgot…"
He stammered awkwardly.
Harry immediately understood.
Something important must've happened—important enough to shake Darren like this.
He had clearly been too overwhelmed to think of informing them.
"Well, you can't lie. You won't lie.
Don't push yourself," Hermione sighed.
But since Darren was safe, they quickly relaxed.
"Look! This is the diary we picked up. And according to the name—Tom Riddle—we found out he was a student fifty years ago."
Hermione announced dramatically.
"Fifty years ago?" Darren lifted his head in surprise.
Hermione beamed at him.
"As expected! Darren figured it out instantly. Meanwhile, these two—"
she shot Harry and Ron a look of pure disdain,
"—stared at it for half a day and saw nothing suspicious at all."
Harry and Ron exchanged sheepish glances.
"Ah, my brother and Ron just didn't think for a moment…" Darren murmured gently.
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[Ding, Father +100]
[Ding, Father +100]
[Ding, Father +100]
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"Oh, Darren, you're always so kind and straightforward," Hermione said warmly.
"They didn't think of it because they didn't want to use their brains!"
She glared at the two boys.
"The Chamber of Secrets was opened fifty years ago. And now a diary from fifty years ago appears—maybe it wants to tell us something?"
Darren said thoughtfully.
He tapped the diary with his wand.
He sensed a faint trace of magic inside.
He wondered if he could call Tom out.
But the moment his wand touched the diary, the magic vanished completely—as if swallowed whole.
"…?"
Darren was speechless.
Tom Riddle's intuition was insanely sharp.
Even if last time had been erased, a psychological shadow clearly remained.
Tom hid even the slightest flicker of magic—just in case Darren sensed him.
Isn't that a bit excessive?
Darren mentally rolled his eyes.
But outwardly he acted puzzled and handed the diary back to Harry.
"It doesn't seem to react. Maybe my guess was wrong."
The moment he handed it away, the diary's magic resurfaced.
Tom must have convinced himself Darren was imagining things.
What can a second-year possibly detect?
Darren smiled softly.
He wondered if Mr. Riddle would still be this confident at the end of term.
---
Life became peaceful again.
There were no more attacks.
The weather warmed.
Darren no longer needed to dress like a walking ball of scarves.
February arrived quickly.
Lockhart returned to teaching.
His lessons were still atrocious, but after publicly apologizing to Darren, he regained a small fan club of appearance-focused witches.
Then—
February 14th.
When Darren walked into the Great Hall with the Slytherins for breakfast, he froze.
The walls were draped with enormous curtains of petals.
Loose petals drifted down like snowfall.
The scene screamed one name:
Lockhart.
Sure enough, when Darren looked up, Lockhart sat at the staff table.
Not because he was handsome.
But because chaos followed him like a dog on a leash.
He wore robes covered in giant hearts, blinked dramatically every few seconds, and beamed at everyone.
The other professors' expressions were murderous.
Professor McGonagall's jaw was locked so tightly her cheek twitched.
Snape held a kitchen knife.
Not metaphorically—a literal kitchen knife.
He looked one breath away from stabbing Lockhart in the back.
"Oh, my dear students!" Lockhart boomed.
"So far, sixteen people have sent me Valentine's cards!
To celebrate this wonderful day, I've prepared a delightful surprise—and also… some things I'm sure you'll love!"
He clapped.
Twelve extremely disgruntled dwarfs marched in, carrying harps, wearing golden wings, and looking like they wanted to quit life.
"A surprise! My little Cupids!" Lockhart announced proudly.
"They'll deliver cards, sing for you, and give you the most wonderful Valentine's Day!
Unless, of course—you're like Professor Snape and prefer to ask about brewing Love Potions!"
Lockhart wiggled his eyebrows.
Darren noticed the interesting detail:
Snape's eyes flashed with a hint of vindictive pride.
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