"Everyone gets one—co and take them!"
Hagrid shouted.
The students all rushed forward.
Most of them were girls.
They crowded around Hagrid, asking him to pick out the most affectionate Nifflers for them.
Hagrid, however, told them that all Nifflers were affectionate—as long as you didn't mistreat them.
This was the most normal Care of Magical Creatures lesson Darren had ever attended.
It was actually a proper class.
A lesson that truly felt like a Care of Magical Creatures course, with a bit of safety magic involved.
The Nifflers scurried around the field, rummaging through the soil where the gold coins were buried.
They were extrely efficient.
Up and down they went, quickly finding coins and tossing them into their assigned student's hands.
Ron's Niffler was the most impressive.
Before long, Ron's hands were already piled full of gold coins.
"Can I buy one?!"
Ron shouted excitedly.
"Oh, your mother wouldn't allow it," Hagrid said with a laugh.
"Nifflers always turn the ground into a ss. They'd toss your whole house upside down like a thief's been through it."
Then Hagrid walked over to Darren.
He laughed heartily.
"Ah, Darren, your Niffler's awfully clingy. Want to swap it for another one?"
Darren's Niffler would dig for a while, then co running back to Darren for a cuddle.
To be fair, it worked quickly too—but it always wanted to stay close to Darren.
That slowed it down a lot.
"No need," Darren said with a smile.
"It's cute."
He looked at the little creature fondly, then quietly flicked his robe.
The Niffler kept rubbing against him and had gotten dirt all over it.
His robe was already a little dirty.
As a so-called "holy father," how could he tolerate that?
So he had secretly cast cleaning charms several tis during the lesson.
"All right, kids, let see how you did!"
Hagrid clapped his hands to get everyone's attention.
The Nifflers had already finished digging up all the coins in the field.
"Don't try to pocket the gold—it's useless!"
Hagrid said sharply to Goyle.
"These are leprechaun gold coins. They'll vanish after a while!"
It was Harry who reacted imdiately.
Ron, Harry, and Hermione all stared in shock.
Then they suddenly turned to look at Darren.
"Darren—back at the Quidditch World Cup, the gold coins we gave you disappeared. Why didn't you say anything?"
"And afterward, you donated a gold Galleon too. Don't tell you donated your own money… You—"
"I… I didn't… I didn't donate any money…"
[Ding, Father Value 100]
[Ding, Father Value 100]
[Ding, Father Value 100]
[Ding…]
Darren stamred on purpose.
Everyone's eyes imdiately reddened.
He was kind to the point of foolishness.
Those gold Galleons were gone—he couldn't possibly have donated them.
And yet he still took out what little money he had left.
Had he never thought about how he was going to live?
"I… I still have so Galleons…"
Darren put on a weak, pitiful expression.
No one believed him.
"Darren… do you really still have any Galleons left?"
Even Hagrid asked.
Darren nodded quickly.
Hagrid hesitated. He didn't say anything, but it was obvious he was already planning to prepare so money for Darren.
At the sa ti, many people began calculating how much pocket money they could scrape together for him.
As for Harry and Hermione, they didn't ask any more questions.
They suddenly realized that Darren hadn't changed his robes or clothes for a long ti.
That alone explained everything.
"I hate being poor!"
Ron complained as they left Hagrid's hut.
"Honestly, I think Fred and George wanting to make money is totally normal. Who wants to be poor forever?"
"But you wouldn't accept the Galleons I gave you…"
[Ding, Father Value 100]
[Ding, Father Value 100]
[Ding, Father Value 100]
Darren replied with a face full of holy radiance.
"Mate, you're already living so miserably. I'd be worried sick if I took your money."
"What if you couldn't even afford food?"
"At least I can go ho for dinner during the sumr. My mum and dad won't let starve."
Darren suddenly felt slightly insulted by Ron's concern about him not being able to eat.
The days after Easter passed quickly.
Around this ti of year, Darren could constantly see Harry struggling on the Quidditch pitch.
He could hear students all over the school talking about Quidditch.
But this year, there was only one topic of conversation—
The Triwizard Tournant.
The closer it got to June, the more intense the discussions beca.
In the last week of May, Professor McGonagall stopped Harry and Darren after Transfiguration class.
"Darren, Harry—go to the Quidditch pitch at nine o'clock tonight."
"Mr. Ludo Bagman will be there to announce the third task."
After speaking, she sighed softly.
"I've always opposed both of you taking part in this competition."
"Before every task, I have the sa nightmares again and again."
"I hope that, like the first two tasks, this one will also turn out to be a false alarm."
Darren smiled and reassured her.
"Professor, I'll definitely take good care of myself—and my brother!"
[Ding, Father Value 100]
[Ding, Father Value 100]
"Oh, Darren, you absolutely must not let anything happen to you!"
Professor McGonagall said, sounding close to breaking down.
Dark circles were clearly visible under her eyes.
"Yes, I promise. I'll co back alive and well!"
[Ding, Father Value 100]
[Ding, Father Value 100]
Darren said solemnly.
"That's enough. I trust your promise!"
Professor McGonagall laughed helplessly.
At half past eight that evening, Harry and Darren t at the castle gates.
Together, they walked toward the Quidditch pitch.
Harry kept reminding Darren that if the third task beca dangerous, Darren had to prioritize his own safety.
Darren remained silent, pretending not to hear.
Harry could only sigh in resignation.
Fortunately, they ran into Fleur and Krum on the way.
Both greeted Darren warmly.
After all, Darren had saved them during the second task.
Fleur, especially, owed Darren a great deal.
The mont she saw him, she leaned in and kissed him on the side of the cheek.
According to her, this was simply her customary etiquette.
Although no one had ever seen her do it to anyone else.
Darren, however, took her explanation completely seriously.
"What do you think the third task will be?"
Fleur asked softly.
Darren shook his head.
Although he already knew the answer—
Even what would happen over the next two or three years—
He absolutely shouldn't know it now.
"My guess is a Quidditch match,"
Krum said happily.
"Right here on the Quidditch pitch!"
Then he looked at Darren and added,
"If it really is Quidditch—and we face each other—I'll go easy on you."
"Don't worry. I'll rember that you saved my life!"
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