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Alia was bored.
Then she caught sight of the expressions on Harry Potter and his two friends—those furious, helpless, downright stupid looks.
Hmm… when was she supposed to intervene?
Or was it just because Fudge was the Minister?
But she had ssed up, so she could only pretend she didn't notice and instead stared seriously at Darren.
Darren looked stunned.
He opened his mouth, as if tripping over his own tongue.
Because honestly, this kind of question was basically a direct insult.
Alia felt embarrassed.
She even wanted to turn around and leave.
But Darren finally spoke.
"No, I swear, I didn't cast any curses on myself. Look here.
This is the mark of the Soul-Reaping Curse. This is the trace of the Heart-Drilling Curse. This is the residue of Dark Magic. And here—here—
These curses all require intense malice. I could never cast them myself."
[Ding, Father 100]
[Ding, Father 100]
[Ding, Father 100]
[Ding…]
He pulled the blanket aside and looked seriously at Alia.
At first, Alia only wondered who on earth had been so brutal to leave this child in such a state.
But the more she listened, the heavier her chest felt.
The Ministry of Magic had failed to protect this child. He was gravely injured, and then even forgotten.
And now, instead of rushing to find the attacker, they were standing here interrogating him.
"Yes, I'm sorry… Did I scare you?"
[Ding, Father 100]
[Ding, Father 100]
[Ding, Father 100]
[Ding…]
Darren accepted the Father Points, his expression full of worry, making it impossible for Alia to even raise her head.
Finally, she stood up abruptly.
"I'm sorry, you—"
Darren blinked at her.
Why was she standing?
Wasn't their conversation going well?
He was earning Father Points so quickly!
"The inquiry is complete. You can rest assured—we will find whoever hurt you as soon as possible."
Alia forced her tone to stay cold, though sha still clung to her.
Clearly, she needed to find out exactly what had happened to Darren Potter.
When the Minister asked for soone to co, no one in the Ministry wanted to do it. Only because she had just returned from leave was she forced into this task.
Clearly, sothing major had happened before this.
And looking into this child's eyes—she simply couldn't keep questioning him.
"Rest well."
She spoke stiffly.
Then she turned and left almost imdiately.
"Minister Fudge must be insane. This director is such a good person…"
Darren sighed when Alia left.
Almost everything he said was giving him full Father Points.
"Well, good person? Did you forget why she ca?"
Harry stared at him helplessly.
Why did Darren think everyone was a good person?
"She ca to interrogate ."
Darren said this matter-of-factly.
Harry's face twisted even more.
"And you still think she's a good person?"
"I'm a good person! This director didn't an it. I could see she was sad. She must feel terrible seeing hurt. I'm sure she's a good person!"
[Ding, Father 100]
[Ding, Father 100]
[Ding, Father 100]
[Ding…]
Darren said brightly.
Then Madam Pomfrey's voice ca from outside the door.
"Yes, yes, now you see everyone as a good person—but you don't care about your body at all. I could explain your injuries like a whole lecture. I think you still haven't stayed in the hospital wing long enough. Drink!"
Madam Pomfrey's expression turned severe.
With a wave of her wand, a whole stack of potions appeared before Darren.
Darren stared, dumbfounded.
He suddenly rembered what Madam Pomfrey had said before—that once he ca into the infirmary, she'd keep him sleeping until his injuries healed.
No way.
How many quests would he miss?
"It seems you rember. Then… don't make repeat myself!"
Her expression darkened sharply.
Darren sighed.
He picked up a potion and quietly asked the system:
[System, these potions won't actually make sleep forever, right?]
[Ding: No. Judging by the effects, this batch ca from Snape. The ingredients are excellent. Your injuries will heal in two days.]
Ah.
So Snape made them for him?
Darren sighed inwardly.
Outwardly, he put on a helpless look.
"I'm sorry, Madam Pomfrey. I made you worry.
It's just… I still want to keep studying potions, and I feel like I'm not that badly hurt, so—
Okay, okay, I was reckless. I'll drink."
[Ding, Father 100]
[Ding, Father 100]
[Ding, Father 100]
[Ding…]
Darren sighed again, opened a bottle, and drank.
But before he finished all of them, sleepiness crashed over him—hard. He couldn't keep his eyes open.
In a haze, he heard Hermione's teasing voice:
"Madam, maybe you should just let Darren finish out the term sleeping here. He's always being targeted. He might actually be safer with you…"
…
Honestly.
If anyone here was fierce, it was Hermione.
She really didn't hold back!
Harry walked out of the infirmary with Hermione and Ron, worry tightening all their faces.
Darren kept running into danger, and they were exhausted from worrying.
"Oi, Potter! I heard your unlucky little brother finally turned up—and he's in the hospital wing?"
Just as they exited, Malfoy's voice rang out.
"What now?"
Harry snapped, not even slowing down as he followed Ron and Hermione toward the Gryffindor common room.
He was in no mood to fight with Malfoy.
But Malfoy grabbed his robe.
"Stop. I'm asking yo—"
Malfoy froze mid-sentence, because Harry's robe tore in his hand.
And a diary fell from Harry's pocket.
Malfoy snatched it up instantly, grinning as he shouted:
"Look what I found! Potter's diary!
Ha—look, isn't this the little Weasley family Potter-fan?
Why are you here? Tracking Harry Potter?
Alright then! I'll read Scarhead's diary aloud, and you shout 'Ron the Poor Weasel!' How's that?"
"Malfoy!"
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