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Chapter 262 — I Don't Remember It at All?!
When Darren returned to his dormitory, he felt utterly stunned.
He hadn't expected that someone would actually try to get rid of him.
So many methods… seriously?
But then—why hadn't he triggered that Portkey?
Darren wondered for a moment, and then he understood.
Because that Portkey had been next to the book he usually used to press it down…
Only if he looked at that book often would he trigger the Portkey.
However, these people probably didn't think that far.
From the outside, Darren looked perfectly normal.
He wrote a lot.
Looked like someone who studied hard.
But he almost never read magical books outside lessons.
Even when he read, he only picked up Muggle stories.
They really suffered from not understanding him.
And even if he had touched the Portkey, the system would have warned him.
But… he might've still wandered off and had a good time anyway.
Of course, that was all trivial.
The real question was: how should he reappear?
And where should he pretend to have appeared from?
And how should he explain where he had been?
Darren felt this was a serious problem.
Coming up with some elaborate explanation by himself felt far too troublesome.
And yes—the description for the Memory Orb never directly showed force.
But making a Memory Orb now felt a bit unrealistic.
The "Shadow Ball" (a finishing move) could only be used next time.
For now, he would use something else.
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[System, give me some wounds that look serious but won't be fatal, and add traces of a Forgetfulness Charm.]
[Ding — 1,000 Father Points required.]
[Deduct.]
Fortunately, he hadn't used up his Father Points in the Time-Space Corridor, otherwise he wouldn't have had enough left to forge even these scars.
[Ding — Deduction complete. Forging wounds… completed.]
The system's voice fell.
Scars instantly appeared all over Darren's body, looking painful and convincing.
He found a deserted corner with no portraits watching, then lifted the Invisibility Cloak.
He let Lezi take the cloak away, then pretended to know nothing and casually walked onto the lawn outside the castle.
"Darren!"
Almost the moment he appeared, Snape was already beside him.
"Why are you here? Where did you go? You—"
Snape's voice was sharp with panic.
But he couldn't continue.
Not just because Darren was covered in injuries—
—but because of the confusion in Darren's eyes.
He looked as if he didn't know anything that had happened.
"You…"
Snape opened his mouth, staring into those bewildered eyes.
"You don't remember what happened?"
Of course Darren knew what happened.
But he couldn't say that.
He could only stare blankly.
"Professor… I need to go back and continue my potions research… I'll finish it soon, and then I can tell you once I figure it out."
He tried to walk away.
But Snape's hand pressed firmly onto his shoulder, refusing to let go.
Darren looked up at him in confusion.
After a pause, he suddenly seemed to "remember" something.
"Professor, are you troubled by something? You can tell me. I'll comfort you."
His gentle smile was warm and genuine.
Not even a hint of annoyance that Snape was interrupting his "research."
Instead, he looked completely worried about Snape.
Eyes wide and earnest.
If they weren't standing in the middle of the lawn, Snape would have been completely undone by this sincerity.
But not now.
Snape's eyes filled with disbelief.
The child had been missing for two days, returned covered in wounds, and was still not surprised at all.
"You don't remember any of it?"
Snape asked, voice grave.
Was this Forgetfulness Charm—or some terrible potion?
Darren tilted his head.
And shook it, clueless.
"Then… you don't feel pain?" Snape frowned.
Darren's expression flickered, and only then did he seem to notice his own wounds.
"Professor, this…"
He didn't get to finish.
"Darren!"
Betsy.
Her eyes were swollen—clearly from crying.
She ran to him immediately.
"Darren, what happened? How did you get hurt? Did Death Eaters attack you? And you—"
She fired off questions nonstop.
Darren blinked, as if finally realizing something.
He looked down blankly at his wounds, then around the scene.
"I… I think I was in the dormitory just now… How did I end up here?"
He spoke hesitantly.
Then he suddenly clutched his head as if in pain.
"I… why can't I remember anything…?"
His voice trembled.
His expression looked lost.
Then, under Betsy's worried gaze, he suddenly went limp and collapsed into her arms.
"Darren!"
Betsy cried out.
"Take him to the hospital wing first. I'll get Dumbledore. Give these to Madam Pomfrey!"
Snape thrust a handful of potions into her hands.
Then turned sharply, his robes billowing as he strode away.
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"I don't know… I only remember going to brew the potion… Then Professor Snape found me. That's all…"
Darren lay obediently on the hospital bed, looking up at Dumbledore as he explained.
Dumbledore frowned deeply.
"Headmaster," Darren continued softly, "I think someone cast the Obliviate on me. And judging from the lingering sensations… I think I was hit with Stunning Spells, Incendio, the Imperius Curse, and probably the Cruciatus Curse as well…
They were likely Death Eaters. I don't know why they wanted to take me. Was it because of the potion that turns Squibs into wizards?
But I was already about to brew it myself, so why kidnap me?"
He glanced seriously at each wound, as though he were a Potions student reporting ingredients.
"If this were Potions class, Potter, I might give you +2 for your analysis," Snape said irritably. "But this is not class, and you do not need to list every injury!"
Even now—after all this—the boy was seriously counting wounds.
Typical Potter…
Snape's internal scolding halted.
He remembered—this foolish child was his.
He wasn't sure whether to feel angry or amused.
But then he remembered Dumbledore was present.
The warmth that had briefly surfaced vanished instantly.
"Well, Severus," Dumbledore said mildly, "don't be too harsh on him… He's still just a child."
Darren smiled gently.
But inside, he muttered:
Old Dumbledore's double standards are really something else.
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