---
Chapter 432 — Very Sad
"Then why can I hear your stomach growling?!"
Harry finally rushed out.
Darren froze in shock.
He immediately urged Paige away with a panicked look.
As if afraid Harry might interrogate her.
Harry saw through him at once.
Fury and pain washed over his face.
He turned and grabbed Paige.
"Paige," he demanded, "tell me the truth—has Darren been eating properly lately?!"
Darren's heart skipped.
Paige hadn't been coached at all.
So Darren shook his head desperately at her.
Harry's eyes burned.
If Darren was eating well, then why hide it?
Paige hesitated.
She had no idea how to fabricate a lie about Darren enjoying expensive meals from around the world every day.
Hundreds of Galleons per dish.
Different cuisine daily.
How was she supposed to explain that?
"Paige, go!"
Darren seized the moment and ordered softly.
Paige vanished instantly.
Harry stood there, fists clenched.
Then slowly turned to Darren.
He clearly wanted to scold him.
But in the end…
He swallowed it.
His voice dropped instead.
"Darren… you didn't have money before. I know that."
"But now you do."
"The money I gave you—use it."
"You must eat properly from now on."
"If you won't eat food from the school elves, then let Paige cook for you."
Darren stared at him.
Silent.
Then his eyes slowly reddened.
Finally… takeaway privileges?
So he nodded heavily.
And spoke with deep emotion—
"Thank you… brother."
Thank you.
For officially approving unlimited food delivery.
Because of that agreement, both of them finally went to class in peace.
The first lesson of the new term was Herbology.
Professor Sprout was still as round and gentle as ever.
Head of Hufflepuff.
And she adored Darren.
As always, she deliberately called on him.
Today was no exception.
She lifted a slimy plant and smiled warmly.
"Darren, can you tell us what this is?"
Darren answered smoothly.
"Bubotuber. It must be squeezed by hand. Its pus treats acne and boils."
Professor Sprout beamed.
"Excellent! Slytherin—ten points!"
Darren smiled awkwardly under the envious stares.
Then the class pulled on dragon-hide gloves and began squeezing bubotuber pus.
Before class ended, Professor Sprout shared a tragic story.
"Hufflepuff's Eloise tried to remove her acne with magic…
And accidentally blew off her entire nose."
"Oh, Darren, don't worry. Madam Pomfrey grew it back immediately."
Professor Sprout patted him comfortingly.
Darren nodded solemnly.
He wasn't worried.
Only amazed.
Good grief.
Other than Voldemort…
Who wants to lose their nose?
Class ended.
Next was Care of Magical Creatures.
Hagrid.
In Darren's opinion?
His lessons were always—
Chaotic.
Aside from Hippogriffs, most classes felt like survival training.
Now it was even worse.
On the first day of term…
Blast-Ended Skrewts.
These creatures were—
Hideous.
Repulsive.
A cross between a maggot and a scorpion.
They exploded periodically from the rear.
And injured students randomly.
Darren found zero reason for their existence.
They weren't useful.
They weren't scientific.
They weren't even cute.
They probably existed solely so something even worse could eat them.
Darren wanted to ask Hagrid:
"Why are we raising these abominations?"
But as a Holy Father…
He smiled obediently.
Then sneaked over to Hermione.
And quietly talked to her about the elves.
Hermione looked extremely conflicted.
She never wanted Darren to know.
Because Darren was too kind.
Way too kind.
After learning the truth, he had stopped eating completely.
Hermione had eaten a little that morning.
A steak.
Bread.
Even the food Darren asked Paige to make her.
But Darren?
Nothing.
And yet—
She still whispered her secret to him.
She had already started organizing something.
Something meant to help the elves in real ways.
But she refused to tell Darren what it was.
She was afraid.
In her words:
"You're still recovering, Darren."
"You were in St. Mungo during the riot."
"You get emotional too easily."
"If you see it…
You might break down."
Darren could only smile sadly.
Say he "regretted deeply" not helping.
Which made Hermione hug him weakly.
[Ding, Holy Father Value +??]
Finally—
Lunch.
Darren wasn't terribly hungry.
But he ordered something from Paige anyway.
Cross-bridge rice noodles.
Simple.
Spicy.
Perfect.
Harry stared in heartbreak.
"No meat… Darren is suffering…"
Darren silently judged them.
A bowl of noodles?
Suffering?
You children would collapse within a week living on real food.
But naturally—
As a Holy Father—
He explained softly.
He couldn't waste money.
His food was cheap.
He must save.
Because he refused to eat Hogwarts' food.
Those words spread like wildfire.
Soon…
Almost all of Hogwarts believed—
There was a boy so poor…
He survived on the cheapest meals.
Sometimes he might not eat at all.
Even Dumbledore looked at him strangely.
And then secretly…
Steaks.
Pork chops.
Roasts.
Bread baskets.
They all began appearing beside Darren.
Disguised charity.
Darren endured them silently.
Inside?
Disgust.
Three years.
He had eaten them for three years.
Every single day.
Now he was finally rich—
And they still tried to stuff him with charred British cuisine.
But for Holy Father points…
He refused.
Firmly.
Quietly.
Politely.
Eventually, even Snape hinted:
Dumbledore had summoned the school board.
Darren clasped his hands.
And prayed with all his soul—
Dear Merlin.
Please.
Let them refuse.
At least…
Let me eat Chinese food a few more days.
---