---
Chapter 413: Volunteer!!
Diggory and his son stood there awkwardly.
They rubbed their hands, at a complete loss for words.
Seeing their embarrassment, Darren suddenly seemed to realize what he had done and spoke apologetically.
"I'm sorry… I shouldn't have said all that, should I?
I was just too envious.
I've never experienced a father's love like that, so I spoke without thinking.
If I said anything wrong, please correct me."
[Ding, Father value +100]
[Ding, Father value +100]
[Ding, Father value +100]
[...]
"Oh, Darren, you didn't say anything wrong at all!"
Cedric said sincerely.
"Your father was a hero."
Darren smiled awkwardly.
The atmosphere eased, though it was still a little stiff.
---
Just then, Mr. Weasley suddenly noticed something on the ground.
A very old, torn boot.
He pointed at it excitedly.
"There! That's it—the Portkey!"
Everyone rushed over.
"Touch the boot, quick! It's almost time!"
Mr. Weasley urged.
Darren reached out with a slight expression of disgust.
And the next second—
His stomach was yanked violently.
It felt like being dragged through the air by an invisible hook.
He could feel Hermione and Ginny knocking into his shoulders.
Ron was shouting somewhere beside him.
Then suddenly—
Thud.
They landed.
"Five past six, from Stoatshead Hill!"
A cold, mechanical voice announced.
Darren looked up.
They were standing at the edge of a large swamp, thick with mist and dark water.
Two exhausted-looking wizards stood nearby.
They were the ones who spoke.
Mr. Weasley walked forward to greet them.
The two men recorded something briefly, told him the location of the Diggory campsite, and impatiently waved them away.
Clearly eager to finish work.
The Diggory father and son discovered that their campsite was far away and quickly used that as an excuse to leave first.
---
"Senior Diggory is really polite."
Darren said admiringly.
Hermione snorted.
"Did you forget his father kept comparing you with him?"
"But he did that because he's proud of Cedric."
Darren said calmly.
"If it were me, I wouldn't even have a chance to praise my own father."
[Ding, Father value +100]
[Ding, Father value +100]
[Ding, Father value +100]
[...]
"I'll praise you too, Darren!"
Harry declared emotionally.
Unfortunately, no one paid him any attention.
Because they had reached the entrance.
Ahead of them was a small stone cottage.
Behind it—
Hundreds of tents.
All of them wildly different in color and shape.
The sight was dizzying.
In front of the cottage stood a Muggle.
A real one.
He wore a badge on his chest.
MR. ROBERTS
He flipped open a notebook and asked flatly,
"Name?"
"Arthur Weasley."
"You ordered two tents. Payment due."
Mr. Weasley quickly pulled out a pile of Muggle coins.
He handed them to Darren with a helpless look.
Darren counted them and passed the money over.
Mr. Roberts finally relaxed.
Then he complained quietly,
"I don't know what kind of gathering this is, but strange people have been coming in nonstop these two days.
They keep trying to pay with gold coins that make no sense at all…"
Then he leaned in and whispered to Darren nervously.
"You should be careful.
I think some of these people might be part of a terrorist group.
They dress strangely, and I keep seeing them reaching inside their clothes—like they're about to pull out a weapon!"
Darren nearly laughed.
Clearly, Mr. Roberts had reached the limit of his imagination.
As a model 'holy father,' Darren could only comfort him gently.
"Don't worry.
There's a big… cultural event here."
"You can think of it as a kind of cosplay convention."
"They're just enthusiastic fans."
[Ding, Holy Father value +80]
[Ding, Father value +100]
[Ding, Father value +100]
---
Just as he finished speaking, a Ministry employee dropped from the sky beside them.
Then—
With a casual flick of the wand—
Mr. Roberts was Obliviated.
Darren went silent.
That was… a little too direct.
He had been about to step in and give a speech—
Educate him.
Raise his Holy Father value.
Then the wizard noticed Darren.
"Darren Potter?"
"I work for the Ministry. I know what you're thinking."
But before Darren could reply, the man was already complaining about work and blabbering about Quidditch as he walked away.
Completely ignoring whether Muggles could hear him or not.
Poor Mr. Roberts turned pale each time he caught a word.
Darren felt faintly disappointed.
His Holy Father value had just vanished like that.
At least stay and argue a little longer.
What a waste.
---
Mr. Weasley led them into an open clearing.
A wooden sign stood there:
Arthur Weasley
"This is us!"
Mr. Weasley exclaimed cheerfully.
He quickly started pitching the tent.
It looked tiny.
About the size of a large sleeping bag.
Then Mr. Weasley crawled inside and waved Darren in.
Darren followed curiously.
The instant he entered—
He froze.
Inside was enormous.
Three bedrooms.
A living room.
Bright and open.
Living here would be much more comfortable than at the Burrow.
On top of that, there were two tents total.
More than enough space.
"Wait here, I'll unpack the food!"
Mr. Weasley rushed off.
Darren wanted to help—
But Ginny stopped him.
"Darren, let me do it!"
"I've been learning to cook from Mum!"
She spoke with determination.
Hermione instantly stood up as well.
Looking like she was about to march into battle.
"I'll help too."
Darren stared at their backs in silence.
A terrible feeling rose in his chest.
…He wouldn't go hungry tonight, right?
These two wouldn't blow up the tent, would they?