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Chapter 303 — Has the Ability to Write a Letter to Voldemort's Father!!
"Dumbledore? How did you end up here?"
Nicolas Flamel returned with the fishing rod, full of energy and still annoyed he hadn't even caught a fish yet.
"Ah, I'm here to see Darren… Darren, you don't look well. Did something happen?"
Dumbledore's expression was deeply concerned.
He worried that Flamel might have tricked him earlier—and that perhaps Flamel didn't actually like Darren as much as he let on.
"No… no, I just… I'm just worried about the teacher's health… about the teacher…"
Darren's voice trembled with a melancholy sincerity.
He looked truly anxious about Nicolas Flamel.
But if one looked closely, it seemed like he was hiding something else entirely.
"Well, don't worry about that. I can still live quite a while… That boy over there caught me coughing earlier and became all distressed."
Flamel sighed helplessly, assuming Darren was simply being sentimental.
He didn't know Darren deeply enough to notice the discomfort under the surface.
Dumbledore, however, noticed everything.
His eyes sharpened. Something under Darren's robes seemed… off.
"Darren," Dumbledore said gently but firmly, "what are you hiding under your robe?"
Darren flinched and took a step back in panic.
He clutched his robe tighter.
"No—nothing! It's just… it's just not flattened properly. Yes—just wrinkled!"
He stuttered uncontrollably, then immediately tried to turn and flee.
But both Dumbledore and Flamel caught him by the arms.
"Darren," Flamel said weakly, acting every bit the frail ancient wizard, "I'm old… I probably won't live much longer. You wouldn't really hide things from me, would you?"
The pitiful old-man voice hit Darren like a curse.
His eyes reddened instantly.
He hated life-and-death talk more than anything.
But he still tried desperately to cover the item in his arms.
"Teacher, you'll be fine. I'll find a way—I'll definitely invent something stronger than the Philosopher's Stone! I'll make sure you continue living!"
[Ding, Father +50]
[Ding, Father +80]
Neither Dumbledore nor Flamel gave the full Father value—they were too focused on whatever Darren was hiding.
Seeing soft emotions weren't enough, Dumbledore abruptly pointed toward the door.
"Darren, look over there—Perenelle fell!"
"Where? Where? I'm go—yes—!"
Before Darren could finish, Dumbledore flicked his wand and snatched the contract hidden in Darren's robes.
Darren lunged for it, but too late.
Dumbledore unfolded it—and froze.
"Two hundred thousand Galleons…? Darren, who forced you into this?!"
He and Flamel were instantly furious.
How could Darren owe anyone money?
This boy was so obedient he barely spent a Knut—not even on himself.
And now he owed two hundred thousand Galleons?
"I… I…" Darren struggled to invent a believable lie.
Dumbledore's patience evaporated.
"If you don't tell me, I'll go to Beauxbatons and investigate myself. Someone dared bully you? I'll find out."
"No, no—Professor Dumbledore, no one bullied me! It's just…"
Darren's face burned red.
"I saw Miss Dracul being chased today… She dropped her necklace… it looked very expensive… she seemed really sad. I wanted to help her… So we signed that contract…"
[Ding, Father +100]
[Ding, Father +100]
Both old wizards fell silent, stunned.
Their voices trembled slightly.
They didn't know the necklace was a scam.
They thought it was real.
But even if it hadn't been—the child's heart was undeniable.
Flamel let out a long breath and managed a small laugh.
"Well, Albus, stop scaring the boy. I'll repay it for him—"
"No, teacher!" Darren shook his head fiercely.
"I can't use your money. I know what I did was foolish. People will laugh when they hear I paid someone else's debts."
"But I made the promise myself.
So I must shoulder the responsibility myself."
"Even if two hundred thousand Galleons… sounds terrifying… I'll find a way. I'll work hard and repay it myself."
[Ding, Father +100]
[Ding, Father +100]
Dumbledore and Flamel froze again.
They had assumed Darren acted without thinking.
But clearly—he understood.
He understood the consequences.
He knew people would call him stupid.
He knew what such a debt meant.
And he chose to bear it alone anyway.
"Darren," Dumbledore said softly, "I once told you that love is the greatest force in the world."
"But… love doesn't just mean loving others.
It also means loving yourself."
"Darren… please love yourself a little more."
Darren nodded dutifully.
Which only made Dumbledore's heart ache more.
This child always placed others above himself—
taking curses for them,
blocking spells for them,
even carrying massive debts for them.
But never once stopping to consider his own well-being.
"Darren, at this point… I don't know what to say."
Dumbledore sighed.
"So—I'll write all of this in a letter and send it to Harry. Maybe he can help you understand where you went wrong."
Darren's mouth twitched.
Seriously?
Dumbledore was going to report him?
The man could probably even write a letter to Voldemort's father if he wanted—
or to Remus Daddy,
or Lucius Daddy…
Write to them all!
Darren rolled his eyes internally, deeply offended by Dumbledore's snitching instincts.
But outwardly, he put on a wounded expression.
"Headmaster Dumbledore, please… don't write to my brother. He'll worry…"
"He'll even try to help me pay the debt… I don't want to trouble him with my mistakes…"
[Ding, Father +100]
[Ding, Father +100]
"Oh, Darren… I'm afraid I must refuse."
Dumbledore shook his head firmly.
"Because this time, I need you to learn to love yourself. And perhaps Harry can help you do that."
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