Chapter 539 – Caring for Each Other?!!
Darren really didn't mean it this time.
The wounds fabricated by the system, combined with the potion Snape had just given him, caused the muscles all over his body to be in an unstable state.
When Fred accidentally bumped into him, he really did fall apart.
In Harry's eyes, it was probably comparable to a scene straight out of a horror film. Even Darren himself was startled by it.
He decided that he would never do this again. It was truly terrifying.
Watching others frantically pick up pieces of his own flesh scattered all over the floor was… honestly a bit too much. No wonder Harry and the others were utterly terrified.
It was like a nightmare.
Even so, in their panic, they still tried to help him, hurriedly picking up the pieces and attempting to put him back together.
Fortunately, Dumbledore reacted quickly and directly ushered Harry and the others back into the room.
Otherwise, Darren felt he might have become a lifelong psychological shadow for Harry—though, to be fair, he probably already had.
Since Harry had already seen it, Dumbledore ultimately told him the truth. Darren was then forcibly fed the Draught of Living Death by Snape.
When Darren woke up again, five days had already passed.
A house-elf was in his room.
It wore a ragged strip of cloth wrapped around its lower body, its upper body bare, looking extremely old. Its back was bent, shoulders hunched, as it cleaned Darren's room.
The stench of decay lingered in the air. Having Kreacher clean the room every day was practically torture—almost enough to kill the Dark Lord's cub by smell alone.
The cub had to be cleaned every day as well.
This was the little cub the young master had brought back. Kreacher couldn't understand how such a small cub could be so powerful.
But sooner or later, the Dark Lord would know that the noble and great House of Black had taken in this little cub—one who had nearly killed him…
The door was suddenly kicked open.
It was Sirius Black.
He strode forward and kicked Kreacher hard.
"You disgusting house-elf. If I could, I'd kill you myself!"
"The young master is a filthy, degenerate disgrace who brought Mudbloods, riffraff, and all those dirty, disgusting—"
"Get out of here right now. Say one more word in front of Darren, and I'll order you to shut up forever!"
"Yes…"
Kreacher glared at Black with hatred, then disappeared on the spot.
Sirius rubbed his temples and looked at Darren.
"I knew it. Whenever Kreacher starts muttering like that, it means you're awake. When you're unconscious, it never bothers with these pointless chores."
"Good thing I came in time. Otherwise, you might really have been driven mad by it. This is the House of Black's house-elf—Kreacher."
Sirius spoke helplessly.
Then he stepped forward and helped Darren up.
"Sn—Snape came by this morning. He said you're basically fine now. Once you woke up, you'd be all right."
"If nothing else, his medical skills are still decent."
"Then don't call him that," Darren said weakly. "Obviously you two care about each other too."
[Ding, Holy Father Value +10]
Sirius's face twisted in visible disgust. He nearly gagged.
He quickly turned around and brought Darren a set of clean clothes.
"Who cares about him?" Sirius said irritably. "I hated him the first time I saw him at school. Your dad hated him too. We never thought he was a good person."
"But I never imagined he'd turn out to be a double agent. That shocked me."
"If he hadn't treated you well, I'd have always suspected he was Voldemort's spy who'd infiltrated us."
"Coincidentally," Snape's cold voice came from the doorway, "I also found you revolting the first time I saw you at school."
"What surprised me more was that you actually managed to escape from Azkaban. What, didn't want to die? Afraid?"
Ignoring Sirius's furious reaction, Snape walked straight over to Darren and tapped him lightly with his wand.
"Recovered. Of course, I sincerely hope someone doesn't take their body and go die with others again. Otherwise, Harry Potter might be frightened to death."
Darren showed an embarrassed expression.
"Hopefully I didn't scare them too badly. When I—"
[Ding, Father +100]
[Ding, Father +100]
[Ding, Father +100]
[Ding…]
"Hmph. I don't want to hear it. Save it for Harry Potter."
Snape turned and left.
As if the man who had nearly broken down that day had never existed—back to being sharp-tongued and aloof.
...
With Darren's recovery and Harry being cleared of all charges, the entire house gradually filled with smiles again.
But it didn't take long for them to notice that Sirius was becoming more and more depressed.
As the start of term approached, Sirius realized that he would likely be left alone in the house again.
Unlike the others, who could come and go freely, he couldn't. He still carried a criminal charge and couldn't step outside this house at all.
A dark thought sometimes crossed his mind—that Darren would never fully recover, or that Harry might actually be expelled, so at least he wouldn't be alone.
But he knew how wrong that was.
Guilt, panic, and melancholy took turns overwhelming him, making Harry and the others uneasy. Yet they couldn't think of anything they could do to help.
Darren thought that if Peter Pettigrew were caught, Sirius might finally be exonerated.
But after Darren's earlier act of "dying together" with Voldemort, he had thoroughly frightened everyone.
Mrs. Weasley firmly believed that Darren needed more rest—he was still too young. Everyone agreed with her.
So Darren got what he wanted: he no longer needed to be involved in the Order of the Phoenix's operations.
Dumbledore promised he would come to Darren only if it was absolutely necessary. Darren subconsciously ignored that part, as if he hadn't heard it at all.
Harry, for one, was delighted. He was relieved that Darren no longer had to attend Order meetings. What happened last time had terrified them all.
After Darren woke up, Hermione cried as she told him she'd had nightmares for days, dreaming that Fred had knocked Darren to death.
Fred himself had been so frightened that he barely spoke for two or three days. Once Darren woke up, he finally returned to his usual lively self.
Even so, he told Darren that he absolutely could not listen to Darren going on missions right now. Horror movies didn't even dare to do scenes like that.
In short, all these chaotic matters dragged on until the day school was about to start again.
An owl delivered the book list.
They only had two new textbooks this year: Standard Book of Spells, Grade 5 and Defensive Magical Theory.
They immediately began speculating about who the new Defence Against the Dark Arts professor would be—and what kind of ill-fated soul had taken the position this year.
As Darren scanned the list, he suddenly noticed Ron staring at his palm in disbelief.
There, resting in his hand, was a red-and-gold badge.
Prefect.
"Oh my God," Fred said blankly. "Which lunatic actually chose Ron as a prefect?"
"Yes!"
Fred and George exclaimed in unison, utterly stunned.