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Chapter 260: The Death of Sirius!!
[Ding, sensing an opportunity for a Holy Father scenario around the host, a temporary task is now issued: Go to Cassandra and say, in a desperate voice— "It's because of me that he died. Even if my brother says he doesn't blame me, I can't pretend it has nothing to do with me."]
Sorry, I said too much… Let me go. I still have something to do.
[Ding, upon completion of the task, reward obtained: Sirius Black's Source of Hatred. Will the host accept the task?]
Sirius's… hatred?
Impossible, right?
Sirius hates him?
That sounded a bit much.
Could it be that Sirius somehow sensed the bloodlines in his body?
Darren suddenly felt a little weak in the knees.
…But even so—it was still manageable.
If Sirius hated him, well… he wasn't exactly terrified.
At least, not enough to refuse the task.
[Accept]
Even if he wasn't scared, he needed to know why Sirius hated him.
Darren took a long breath, then looked at Cassandra with hollow, wounded eyes.
Cassandra instinctively stepped back when she saw that expression.
Then she heard him choke out, voice breaking:
"I know everyone keeps telling me it's not my fault… but Sirius died because of me.
No matter what anyone says, I can't lie to myself and pretend it has nothing to do with me. Maybe I really am some kind of cursed star…"
He lowered his head, shaking slightly.
"Sorry for scaring you. I just… I'm sorry. Please let me through. I need to go."
[Ding, congratulations to the host for completing the task. Reward obtained: Sirius Black's Source of Hatred.]
Sirius Black's Source of Hatred:
Sirius felt an abnormal aura through the Black family heirlooms on the day Lily returned.
He had seen Voldemort up close; Lily carried a trace of that same aura.
Because the thought was unbelievable, when Sirius later learned Lily was carrying twins, suspicion swept over him at once.
Yet he couldn't erupt at Lily—she was innocent.
He refused to burden James with the truth, so all that panic and fear turned into hatred aimed at the child in Lily's belly.
When you were born, Sirius felt that same terrifying aura again.
So when the Death Eaters came to seize you, he pretended to be overwhelmed and handed you over; afterward, they flung you into the battlefield, and Sirius threw you into the Muggle world.
He could not bring himself to kill you—but he also could not accept your existence.
…
So that was it.
Ancient wizarding families truly were something.
They could sense things most people couldn't.
And before the system bound to him, Darren likely had only a tiny trace of Voldemort's blood—so faint it never manifested.
The "reward" probably strengthened that bloodline until it became active.
Darren sighed.
His expression made Cassandra deeply misunderstand.
She bit her lip, wanting to speak, but ultimately chose silence.
She stepped aside quietly.
Darren walked out, face blank.
Inside, he considered:
Should he have personally killed Sirius to create this scenario?
Or simply allow the canon plot to unfold and fail to save him?
Judging by his current height, he looked around fifth or sixth year.
Sirius escaped Azkaban in third year.
If Darren were truly meant to kill him, it likely would have happened then—not now.
So this must simply be the plot unfolding on its own, nothing done by his hand.
Darren decided to accept that.
Either way, if anything went wrong, it was still himself who had to live through the consequences.
Thinking this, he kept his mask of calm.
But the moment he stepped out of the Slytherin common room, he nearly burst into laughter.
Because at that moment, Harry looked exactly like he did in the movies—slowly entering that awkward, greasy phase of adolescence.
Darren touched his own face, relieved he had a system.
Otherwise foreigners really did age frighteningly fast.
Hermione stood beside Harry.
"Oh, thank goodness—you finally came out. Harry and I thought you were going to lock yourself in there forever. I even asked Miss… Vorley to check on you. Are you all right?"
Hermione hugged him tightly.
Darren immediately noticed she had indeed grown up.
Quite a bit.
But he shook his head with trembling restraint, wearing a fragile, wounded expression.
"I… I'm fine. I just needed some quiet. I can control myself now. I'm not the child I used to be…"
[Ding, Father +100]
[Ding, Father +100]
[Ding, Father +100]
[Ding…]
Darren accepted it all calmly.
His expression steadied, but his turquoise eyes slowly reddened.
"Sorry… I just lost control for a moment…"
He wiped his eyes messily, forcing a small smile.
"Alright. Hermione, brother, Ron… let's go."
[Ding, Father +100]
[Ding, Father +100]
[Ding, Father +100]
[Ding…]
"Darren, we're not kids anymore," Hermione said softly.
"You can't hide things like this from us."
Harry added, quietly stubborn:
"I told you—it's not your fault. Sirius fell on his own. You just didn't catch him in time. That's not the same as causing it."
Hermione tugged Darren closer, distressed.
Darren's fingers trembled.
Outwardly, he looked like he was desperately trying not to cry.
Inwardly?
He was praising his detective skills.
He'd guess correctly—Sirius had fallen on his own.
It had nothing to do with him.
He had just failed to catch him.
And even if Sirius had been pulled, Darren still would've needed to play the tragic, compassionate Holy Father role.
"Darren, you don't have to…" Harry hesitated.
"Sirius didn't like you.
You don't need to grieve for him.
He was my godfather, not yours."
Hermione and Ron both gasped.
"Harry!"
"You can't say that to Darren!"
But Harry wasn't being cruel—just painfully honest, trying to comfort him.
Darren understood immediately.
Sirius truly had disliked him.
And Sirius really had been Harry's godfather, not his.
Harry simply wanted to ease his guilt.
But a Holy Father like Darren could always find a new angle for suffering.
"I'm sorry… Brother, I'm so sorry…" Darren whispered, face draining of color as if he'd been struck.
"You're right. You blame me.
I killed him…
I'm the reason you have no godfather now…"
[Ding, Father +100]
[Ding, Father +100]
[Ding, Father +100]
[Ding…]
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