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Chapter 381 – "Your Mother Was Truly Remarkable"
That afternoon, they hurried to the Potions classroom.
This time, the final task was to brew a Chaotic Draught.
Everyone had to work under supervision in the same classroom.
Darren completed his potion quickly and perfectly.
So Snape stationed himself behind Harry—
While loudly praising Darren's technique.
He spoke while staring at Harry's cauldron.
Finally, he said with cold sarcasm:
"Darren, your mother must have been extraordinarilytalented.
She would have taught you everything she knew."
Then his gaze sharpened.
"As for Harry Potter… who clearly inherited only his father's talent—
I find it utterly despairing."
"Professor—"
Darren frowned.
He wanted to object—
But Snape interrupted, suddenly sounding sincere:
"I should apologize to your father as well, Darren.
He was… still quite capable."
Not really.
With one sentence, he belittled James and praised himself.
And clearly thought he was being subtle.
Snape, however, looked quite pleased.
Then, without hesitation, he gave Darren a perfect score.
"Very good. Worthy of a Slytherin student," he said coldly.
"You may leave—and actually rest this time."
"If I see you tomorrow with dark circles again, I will personally make you sleep."
Darren nodded and left.
The moment he did—
Snape turned back to Harry.
Somewhat louder this time.
"Some people simply have no talent for Potions."
"Honestly… do they even have a brain?"
Harry's hands shook.
He added one extra gram of powdered knotgrass.
The potion thickened.
Turned murky.
Snape smirked.
Harry clenched his teeth and tried to fix it—
But only made it worse.
When he handed in the potion, he kept his head down.
He couldn't bear to see Snape's expression.
Yet just before he left—
He glanced back.
Snape was slowly drawing circles on his report.
Rings that suspiciously resembled zeros.
---
On Wednesday morning, Darren entered History of Magic.
For once—
Professor Binns smiled.
"Oh, Darren. You're here."
He handed Darren his paper.
"One question only. You may leave after finishing."
Darren looked down.
The question read:
> Briefly describe the Witch Hunts in the Middle Ages.
He filled the entire sheet.
When Binns read it, he nodded with rare approval.
"Very good. As expected from you."
"But you must rest."
That was what nearly every professor told him.
---
Even Professor Sprout couldn't help herself.
During Herbology, she squinted at Darren's face.
"My dear, your dark circles are getting worse!"
"If you don't rest, I'll report you to Professor Snape.
And I assure you—he will force you to sleep."
Darren lowered his head, looking dejected.
And just like that—
Professor Sprout's heart melted.
She sighed.
"Alright… alright."
"Just promise me you'll rest after Buckbeak's trial."
She immediately gave him full marks.
Then said warmly:
"Darren, if you ever fail an exam, that means I have failed first."
Bold.
Totally sincere.
---
Thursday morning—
Defense Against the Dark Arts.
Professor Lupin's exam.
To many students, he was the first real professor of the subject.
He didn't just talk.
He taught.
Their exam was entirely practical—
An obstacle course:
• A pond with Grindylows
• A tunnel crawling with Red Caps
• A swamp haunted by Hinkypunks
• Then—
A Boggart.
Everything had gone smoothly.
Until Darren stepped forward.
The Boggart transformed—
Into a headless Winged Beast.
Its severed head rolled across the floor.
Blood soaked its body.
And its empty eyes stared straight at him.
Darren froze.
His face drained.
He looked as if he couldn't breathe.
[Ding, Holy Father Value +100]
[Ding, Holy Father Value +100]
[Ding, Holy Father Value +100]
The class felt their hearts tighten.
Harry rushed to him.
With support, Darren forced himself to stand again.
He faced the Boggart—and dispersed it.
But the anxiety stayed in his eyes.
The trial was too close.
Too real.
---
And then—
Just after the exam—
Darren saw Cornelius Fudge turning a corner.
The Minister froze when he saw them.
Then forced a smile.
"Oh, Darren… Harry too?"
Harry stepped into view.
Fudge seemed startled.
Then he tried to hug him.
Harry stepped back.
Fudge laughed it off.
"Well. Lovely weather today, isn't it?"
Harry nodded awkwardly.
Then tugged Darren's sleeve.
He didn't like the Minister.
Especially not after second year.
Fudge had accused Darren during the trial.
Then escaped accountability.
He had promised in the Daily Prophet to capture Death Eaters within a month.
A year passed.
Nothing.
And now—
Harry noticed something worse.
Fudge's smile did not reach his eyes.
When he looked at Darren—
There was displeasure.
There was calculation.
And then—
An odd question.
"So… Darren, where have you been recently?"
Harry stiffened.
That was wrong.
Too wrong.
Why ask that?
Unless—
Was he checking whether Darren had witnesses?
Was he looking for an opening?
Was he connected to the Death Eaters too?
Harry pulled Darren back instinctively.
But Fudge's next words—
Stopped both of them cold.
---