Chapter 545 — Look at Each Other and Hate Each Other!!
Harry felt that he wasn't wrong.
His argument with Seamus hadn't been unjustified.
But no matter what, a mixture of anger and pain still welled up in his heart.
Those gazes—misunderstanding, suspicion, even disgust—filled the eyes of most of the Gryffindor students.
He didn't even dare imagine how Gryffindor saw him now. And if that was the case… then what about Darren in Slytherin?
Was Darren being mistreated by those people?
That night, Harry barely slept.
First, he dreamed of Darren being bullied and abused by them.
Then, Darren was dragged into the Forbidden Forest by those people, where Voldemort tortured him brutally.
Finally, the dream shifted again—to a mysterious corridor, as if some treasure lay hidden there.
It tempted him, calling him to step inside.
Harry didn't wake properly until Ron shook him. Only then did he realize he'd been trapped in nightmares all night.
The next day, Harry's face looked terrible.
He had expected Darren to be in a similar state.
But instead, Darren's complexion was rosy and bright.
He was walking toward them with a relaxed smile.
"Darren must've cast some kind of Refreshing Charm on himself. I heard Fred and the others say they eavesdropped on Dumbledore's conversation.
They said Darren used that spell during the summer holidays, until the house-elves noticed and stopped him.
Or maybe he's using it more discreetly now.
That explains it—how could Darren have slept so well last night?
He must've suffered terribly, or not slept at all, and had no choice but to cast it again!"
Harry said anxiously.
But when Darren drew closer, Harry immediately shut his mouth.
They began asking Darren what had happened the previous night.
Darren answered honestly.
After returning to the common room, Snape had announced that the fifth-years would be selected for prefect tryouts.
He hadn't participated and had gone straight back to sleep.
But once he finished speaking, Harry and the others looked at him with disbelief and worry.
Because they had just heard that a sixth-year Slytherin student had been scolded by Snape for refusing to participate in the prefect tryouts.
It was said that the student had cried.
So how could Darren have simply opted out?
They began to suspect that Darren had suffered inhuman treatment—and was unwilling to tell them.
Anger and unease filled Harry and the others' hearts.
In the end, they could only think of telling Black about this as soon as possible.
Let him speak to Dumbledore and see if there was any way to get Darren out of Slytherin.
Otherwise, they were convinced Darren would eventually be driven mad by the abuse.
Darren, of course, had no idea what they were thinking.
He was busy dealing with a beef patty.
This was something he hadn't eaten in Slytherin—because all he'd had there were buns.
He planned to find time to tell the house-elves later.
He wasn't a bun spirit. He didn't need to live on buns.
"Looking at today's timetable is just pure bad luck. I really hope Fred and George hurry up and invent some quick-acting Skiving Snackboxes, so I don't have to attend classes like these!"
Ron said as he received the Gryffindor schedule.
History of Magic, Potions, Defense Against the Dark Arts, and their most hated subject—Divination.
Four of their least favorite professors, all in one day.
"A prefect wants to skip class now?"
Fred laughed at Ron.
Ron tried to shove the timetable under Fred's nose to show how unlucky they were, but Fred dodged away.
"Stay away from me, Ron—you tore up the Skiving Snackboxes notice we put up in the common room!"
"I tore it!"
Hermione turned around sharply.
She had just poured juice for Darren.
But when she heard Fred's words, she glared at them fiercely.
"Don't hang those things in the common room again, or I'll tell Mrs. Weasley!"
Fred and George immediately retreated.
Hermione then wrapped a beef patty in parchment and handed it to Darren.
"Go on, eat it on the way. Food from the other tables is already starting to disappear."
Hermione stood up.
Darren nodded.
While eating, he glanced toward the Slytherin table and said cautiously, "Well, luckily they're not here. Otherwise, I'd probably get punished by copying school regulations again."
Harry and the others immediately put on expressions of sympathy and sorrow.
Darren suspected that they had constructed some tragic story about him in their heads.
He pouted.
Then continued nibbling on the beef patty as if nothing was wrong.
However, whenever he passed someone, he immediately put the patty away.
Little Father: This image is a bit ugly. It's not good to collapse.
Of course.
This action only made Harry and the others feel even more distressed.
Fortunately, the first class was about to begin.
They didn't have time to dwell on it.
The first lesson was History of Magic.
Professor Binns was already extremely old.
His face was deeply wrinkled, and his speech came with slow, rasping breaths.
Even Darren felt drowsy in Professor Binns's class.
For an hour and a half, Professor Binns droned on about the Goblin Wars.
Darren suspected that if another professor had taught the topic, it might have been vivid and magnificent.
But in Professor Binns's hands, it became a perfect cure for insomnia.
Fortunately, Darren had a self-writing quill.
At night, he let the quill complete his homework.
During History of Magic, his hand rested lightly on the quill, which moved as if he were taking notes.
In reality, even if he fell asleep, no one would think he was slacking off.
Thinking back to last year—when he'd fallen asleep in Divination and ended up in the hospital wing—
Anyway.
Darren somehow muddled through History of Magic.
The next class was Snape's Potions lesson.
The moment they entered the dungeon classroom, Snape's expression was filled with mockery.
"Before we begin today," Snape said coldly, "I must remind you that next June, you will be sitting your O.W.L. examinations.
"But I must say, there are several people in this class whose intelligence is woefully inadequate."
Snape's gaze lingered over Harry's face.
Malfoy let out a laugh.
Harry clenched his fists.
"Of course, after this year, some of you may no longer be qualified to attend my classes.
I will select only the finest students for next year's course.
As for the rest—I don't believe they are worthy of choosing my subject."
"I suppose I'll be bidding them farewell. What a pity."
Snape spoke with false regret.
There was even a smile on his lips.
It was obvious he couldn't wait to be rid of certain people.
Harry pretended not to hear.
There was no need to think about it—he was clearly one of those Snape wanted gone.
In truth, Harry didn't want to see Snape either.
He found him utterly repulsive.
If he could, he would very much like to fling a cauldron straight at Snape's face.
They looked at each other with pure hatred.
Neither could wait for the day this torment finally ended.