---
After Darren assured Harry, several days passed.
During this ti, Harry followed Darren everywhere.
According to him, he was afraid Darren might encounter danger.
Darren felt that even if danger really ca, dragging Harry along would only add one more person to be sacrificed.
But as a little Father, he obviously couldn't say that.
So he simply let Harry follow.
Today—
When they returned from outside the castle, they heard Mr. Filch swearing loudly.
Argus Filch, Hogwarts' caretaker, had always disliked students.
But ever since Mrs. Norris was petrified and Darren defended him to Dumbledore, preventing Filch from being fired… his attitude toward Darren had changed completely.
He was no longer fierce.
He had beco almost friendly.
Sotis he even brought Darren snacks.
And today, he was crouched over the floor, muttering curses as he scrubbed.
"Oh, Darren, careful now—don't slip! That wretched Peeves has made a ss of the whole corridor again…
Oh, right! Darren, have you wanted those biscuits from last ti? I saw the kitchens made a new batch today. You should get to the Great Hall early or there won't be any left!"
The biscuits Filch ant were a new invention—
enchanted treats that transford into whatever shape the eater imagined.
Students adored them—not for eating, but for playing.
They often reshaped the cookies into Lockhart's or Snape's faces, making them fight each other.
The cookie Lockhart almost always ended up smashed.
"Thank you, Mr. Filch. And keep an eye on next month's Wizengamot Gazette. I've prepared a little surprise for it.
It's still in its early stages, so it may take so ti to finish… but please trust . Believe in the future."
Darren smiled gently.
Filch didn't understand what kind of "surprise" Darren ant, but at this point he trusted Darren completely.
Buying a newspaper was nothing.
"Of course—I'll buy it…"
Filch was about to continue when his expression suddenly changed.
A deafening bang echoed through Hogwarts.
Imdiately followed by Peeves' gleeful shrieking:
"Hahaha! A student's been hit! A student's been hit!"
"I'm going to strangle him!"
Filch didn't even have ti to say goodbye before he bolted away.
Darren made a show of wanting to run after him, but Harry grabbed his sleeve.
"No, don't go. It's nothing serious… If you go, Peeves will definitely drag you into whatever he's plotting.
Last ti he accused you of petrifying Justin and Nearly Headless Nick.
He's been spreading stories these days that make it sound like he's trying to send you straight to Azkaban."
Hermione huffed angrily.
Darren's face instantly turned pale, his head lowering in guilt.
"I'm too weak… Peeves is right. I didn't save Justin… and I caused Nick to be petrified…"
[Ding, Father 100]
[Ding, Father 100]
[Ding, Father 100]
His voice trembled. His eyes turned red.
They had thought Darren didn't care anymore, but clearly he had been blaming himself all along.
"Don't be stupid," Harry sighed. "You didn't petrify anyone."
"Yeah! You're not rlin—you can't save everyone," Ron added helplessly.
Darren opened his mouth to speak—
But a sudden scream cut through the hall.
"It's Myrtle! I'll go check. What if sothing happened?"
[Ding, Father 100]
[Ding, Father 100]
[Ding, Father 100]
Darren rushed toward the bathroom.
But the mont he entered, he nearly rolled his eyes.
A triggered plot.
Myrtle was wailing loudly, flinging a diary across the tiled floor.
It was that diary.
Tom Riddle's diary—the sa one Darren had encountered before.
Myrtle's shrieking was louder than ever.
Darren's ears buzzed painfully.
He wanted to cover them and leave imdiately—
But.
"What's wrong, Myrtle?"
As the little Holy Father, of course he couldn't just walk away.
He forced a gentle smile… though he still looked scared.
"Oh—it's Darren!" Myrtle sobbed. "Darren, they bullied ! They threw things at ! I was here thinking about life, thinking about your handso little face… and then they hit with sothing! It's too awful!"
Her wails echoed through the bathroom.
Darren hurried to offer her a tissue, but she couldn't grab it through her ghostly form, and cried even harder.
"Oh, stop it! They just threw sothing! You're a ghost—it passes right through you!"
Hermione said bluntly.
She dragged Darren a step away and explained, smiling:
"Myrtle is always like this. Ignore her and she'll get sad again.
And, well… if she keeps crying, that's even worse. You don't want to make her too sad, do you?"
"Is… is that so?"
Darren looked doubtful—
But then imdiately believed her.
Not because Myrtle's crying annoyed him, but because Hermione sounded so certain.
"Thank you, Hermione. If not for you, I might have upset Myrtle again.
I'll ignore her from now on!"
He declared solemnly, letting Myrtle sob behind him as he walked toward the bathroom door.
He just wanted so peace.
Don't ask him who Peace is.
Darren rubbed his ears, trying to calm them, when suddenly—
He saw his cat.
Lezi.
Or… the cat that was supposed to be Lezi.
It stood in the doorway, owing at him urgently.
Wait.
That wasn't right.
The real Lezi had long since been replaced by a simulated cat.
But even so, the mimic had always behaved exactly like the original.
The real Lezi would always leap into Darren's arms the mont it saw him.
This one didn't leap.
Instead, it stood there, owing pointedly—as if trying to get Darren to follow.
"Lezi? Are you calling ? What's wrong?"
Darren pretended not to notice anything strange and walked toward the door curiously.
Reviews
All reviews (0)