Chapter 342 – Meet Boggart!!
"Good boy, Darren, go on—step forward."
Lupin encouraged him gently.
Darren walked over, his face pale.
He stared at the wardrobe, fear clearly visible in his eyes.
It was as if what stood inside wasn't a boggart at all, but a Death Eater lying in wait.
"Very good, Darren. Right now, focus on one thing…" Lupin said calmly.
"In a moment, the boggart will turn into what you fear the most… Think about what's in your mind… If you don't guide it, it will still become the thing you're most afraid of. Of course, you can also use your own method."
Huh?
Darren blinked, slightly puzzled.
He remembered the original scene in the book—when Lupin taught Neville, he had Snape dressed in his grandmother's clothes.
For a brief second, Darren's mind wandered… Hermione in strange clothing floated into his thoughts.
But Lupin didn't say anything.
Maybe he already knew Darren wouldn't think about something like that.
Or maybe… the person Darren feared the most simply wasn't Snape.
Yes.
It wasn't Snape at all.
If Lupin still remembered Neville, then someday, maybe he really would get to see Snape in women's clothes.
The thought nearly made Darren laugh.
But as a "Little Holy Father," he quickly suppressed his completely inappropriate impulses.
He took a deep breath, raised his head, and nodded seriously at Lupin.
Isn't this just about consuming Father Value?
No problem. Perfectly fine. Absolutely fine.
…Fine my foot.
He felt miserable.
Speaking of which, that "black pot card" the system gave him earlier—could it do anything at all to comfort his shattered heart?
Probably not.
And there was no helping it.
The system still hadn't issued him a task… which meant he might either have to drain Father Value or get his memory "erased" by Dumbledore.
Even though Dumbledore couldn't really erase it, Darren would still have to pretend.
Darren sighed heavily and lifted his eyes once more toward the wardrobe.
Lupin hesitated, then firmly said, "I'll be right behind you. If you can't hold on, I'll put it away at once… You can do this, Darren."
If you fail… Dumbledore will remember it.
This child feared having his memories altered more than anything.
So it was better for him to overcome this pain himself.
Lupin thought so firmly, though his eyes had already grown slightly red.
Leaving aside the bloodline issue that troubled him so deeply—Darren was still his godson.
And as any godfather would, he was unwilling to let him suffer something so cruel.
If he hadn't seen Darren collapse under the Dementors before… he wouldn't have allowed him anywhere near a boggart.
If the child was afraid—then ideally, he should never face it.
But reality didn't allow such mercy.
No one could spend their lifetime avoiding these things.
Lupin stayed silent, watching.
The wardrobe shook harder and harder.
Bang!
The door flew open.
Instantly, Lupin raised his wand.
If Darren couldn't endure it… he would force the boggart back.
At the same time—
Darren heard a familiar mechanical sound.
[Ding, sensing that the boggart is reading the host's fears, please ask the host if he uses the Hundred Holy Father value to fake his fears.]
[Forge it—fake whatever I imagine.]
With the system involved…
Some dangers in the wizarding world that others couldn't prevent or escape from were, for Darren, just a matter of paying Father Value.
And as the number dropped—
A figure emerged from the wardrobe.
The moment the students saw it, many of them felt a sense of familiarity.
The Slytherins, in particular, recognized him instantly.
Flint.
Former captain of the Slytherin Quidditch team.
Dead.
Of course, nobody felt even the slightest sympathy for him.
After Darren subdued the Death Eaters he had then secretly released them…
Flint had then been killed by a single Avada Kedavra.
"Potter… why didn't you save me?"
The boggart spoke in Flint's voice.
"You blocked spells for others—so why not for me?! You watched me die! You should feel guilty forever!"
Darren covered his face, trembling.
"Darren, stay with me…!"
Lupin shouted from behind.
But Darren seemed unable to hear him.
His face was deathly pale, like he might collapse at any moment.
And then—
The scene changed.
Now it was Conte.
Conte pointed his wand at Darren, laughing hysterically.
"You should die instead of us! If you die, everything will be fine!"
"Potter, we want to live!"
"I still have parents… I'm still young…"
"Don't resist! Just die for us! Let us live properly—can't you do that for us?!"
Lupin's body stiffened.
Staring at Conte's face, then at Darren trembling on the ground…
For one terrifying moment, he wanted to storm straight into Azkaban and personally kill every one of them with his own wand.
Then Conte vanished.
And once more, the boggart transformed.
Another Slytherin student.
He lay sprawled at Darren's feet.
"Potter… help me…"
"Save me…"
"I'm going to die… you're so powerful, you have to save me…"
"This happened because you didn't block that spell for me…"
"I'm dying, Potter…"
"I curse you… I curse you…"
"No one in this world will ever love you…"
"No one will ever understand you…"
"You killed me…"
"You'll live in guilt forever!"
Darren collapsed to the floor.
His eyes were bloodshot.
He looked utterly broken.
"Professor, Darren can't take it anymore—take the boggart back!"
"Yes, send it away!"
"He can't watch this!"
"No—you shouldn't stop it! Gryffindors don't understand! He has to come out of it on his own!"
"Exactly! If Potter doesn't face this, how will he ever grow stronger?!"
"Are you trying to erase his memory secretly?! Potter can do this!"
"You Slytherins are heartless!"
"You Gryffindors are naive!"
"You—!"
The two houses exploded into argument.
But Lupin heard none of it.
His wand was clenched tightly in his hand.
Every part of him wanted to step in and pull Darren away immediately.
But then—
He saw Darren move.
Though still on the ground, he tried to push himself up.
Again.
And again.
Each attempt drained all of his strength.
But—
He didn't stop.
If Darren refused to give up… then Lupin wouldn't either.
He could do it.
Darren could do it.
"Professor—Darren's standing up!"
Hermione cried out suddenly.
Her voice snapped both houses out of their clash.
They stopped arguing without even realizing it.
All eyes turned in the same direction.
Toward Darren.
Toward the boy still struggling to rise.
Holding their breath—
They waited.
Would he succeed?