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Chapter 379 – "What a Pity"
If Darren had the choice, he truly wanted to stay in the dormitory twenty-four hours a day.
But Harry and the others would not allow it.
Every time they saw Darren lying on his bed, they would start worrying that he was secretly studying again.
They were afraid he wasn't sleeping.
Afraid he wasn't eating.
So no matter how many excuses Darren made, they always dragged him to the library.
Because of that, Darren could no longer openly use his automatic writing quill.
As a "Little Holy Father," how could he possibly sit in a public place while a quill did all his homework?
He was helpless.
So he could only stay in the dormitory as much as possible and let the quill work late into the night in secret.
Fortunately, on the third day, the quill finally finished all the homework.
Darren thought he could finally rest.
He was just about to celebrate and watch anime openly when he realized something terrible—
They still had to help Hagrid.
Finding case precedents.
Sorting documents.
Writing appeal materials.
So much work.
Darren wanted nothing more than to crawl into bed and let the system solve everything at once.
But Harry still refused to let him return to the dormitory.
They were afraid he would forget to eat and sleep again.
Darren felt miserable.
For the first time, he regretted building such a perfect Holy Father image.
Now, he had to personally do everything.
But soon, he came up with a new plan.
He let his mimic-kneazle Lezi hide.
Then, during the day, he deliberately spent most of his time "searching" for Lezi.
Only in the evening would he return to the dormitory—carrying stacks of documents.
The next day, Darren produced a thick bundle of neatly organized files.
Instantly, he received another large wave of Holy Father Value.
Because to everyone else, it looked like Darren had spent the whole night searching for Lezi and helping Hagrid at the same time—
Without sleeping.
Without resting.
The fact that Darren alone had organized more than Ron and Harry combined over several days made them feel incredibly guilty.
As for Hermione…
She was even worse.
Although she had dropped Divination, her workload had not decreased at all.
Homework, textbooks, review notes—
Every single day was packed.
Dark circles had formed under her eyes, just like Lupin's.
She looked exhausted, as though she might burst into tears at any moment.
Darren felt bad even talking to her.
Yet Hermione was always gentle whenever she faced him.
Harry was no better off.
Besides homework and helping Hagrid, he still had Quidditch training every evening.
It wasn't just Gryffindor.
Slytherin was training nonstop too.
This made Darren sigh in relief once again that Snape had refused to let him join the team.
Because of the upcoming match, the hostility between Slytherin and Gryffindor reached its peak.
Students were sent to the hospital wing almost daily.
Fights broke out everywhere.
But Darren never witnessed any of it.
Harry and Ron deliberately avoided mentioning it in front of him.
It was only after overhearing some Hufflepuffs chatting that Darren realized—
The conflict had completely escalated.
On top of that, there was also Harry versus Malfoy.
Although the two never actually fought…
Every time they met, both of them drew their wands instantly.
It was as if a duel would break out at any second.
Of course, it all started when Harry had smashed mud straight into Malfoy's face.
And in the end, Harry was not punished at all.
Naturally, Harry and Ron also forbade Darren from greeting Malfoy again.
Not that Darren wanted to.
But still—
After everything, Malfoy left all his hatred squarely on Harry's shoulders.
Harry admitted it openly.
This drove Malfoy completely mad.
Every time he looked at Harry now, his gaze was vicious.
As if he were already planning how to send Harry straight to the hospital wing.
Harry, of course, was furious too.
Not only because Malfoy wanted Darren as a follower—
But also because Malfoy had once pretended to be a Dementor to scare him during a match.
Harry had wanted to curse Malfoy countless times.
But Darren was always nearby.
And if Darren was there, neither of them ever dared to move.
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The night before the match—
Malfoy cornered Darren in the Slytherin common room.
He declared arrogantly that he would definitely defeat Harry.
That he would prove who the real Seeker was.
Darren nodded as if he understood.
But then showed a hesitant expression, as if he truly couldn't see what being a Seeker had to do with all this posturing.
Malfoy nearly exploded.
If not for the Slytherin captain pulling him away, he would have started yelling right there.
Some of the team members exchanged uneasy looks.
That scene reminded them uncomfortably of how Flint had once behaved around Darren.
They worried Malfoy might go down the same path—
And that Slytherin might someday even lose their Seeker because of it.
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On the morning of the match—
Darren woke up to shouting outside his dormitory.
When he opened the door, he saw the Slytherin team standing in the common room, making impassioned oaths.
They swore they would crush Gryffindor.
They swore they would win the Quidditch Cup again.
"We'll make it our eighth championship in a row!"
Darren looked at them sympathetically.
Because he knew.
This time, the protagonist would win.
No matter how hard a supporting character tried… they could never outrun fate.
But naturally, no one knew what he was thinking.
Malfoy lifted his broom and shot Darren a triumphant grin.
Then he marched out with the team.
When Darren reached the Quidditch pitch, the stands were already packed.
Cassandra spotted him and immediately made space beside her.
Darren nodded to her awkwardly.
At the start of term, he had pushed her away on purpose.
He did not want her dragged into danger.
To make his excuse believable, he had avoided her for most of the semester.
And she—
Never confronted him.
But she still saved seats for him.
Still shielded him whenever she could.
This was why Darren always felt a faint sense of guilt whenever he saw her.
Because he was still playing a role designed by others.
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As the match began, Darren immediately put on a nervous expression.
He clutched his wand tightly.
Every single time Harry played, Darren prepared himself like this.
Because whenever Harry was on the field, disaster was never far behind.
And it was also the best time to farm Holy Father Value.
As expected—
The moment Darren started worrying—
Holy Father Value surged.
Darren wondered idly…
If Harry fell again today, would he gain even more?
Unfortunately—
It seemed Harry would not make a fool of himself this time.
What a pity.
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