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Chapter 649 Sixth Grade Begins!!
Harry was pulled away by Darren.
As soon as they got off the train, Tonks rushed over.
"Great—the train's about to head back. Luckily I found you. What happened to you two?"
Her eyes immediately fell on Darren's pale face and the blood on Harry's nose.
"Got beaten up by Malfoy,"
Harry said before Darren could answer. He had no intention of letting Darren cover it up.
Tonks believed him immediately.
She cursed Malfoy angrily under her breath, then hurried them toward the castle.
As soon as they reached the edge of Hogwarts grounds, a figure holding a lamp approached.
Harry thought it would be Filch.
But to his surprise—
It was Snape.
Snape looked Harry up and down coldly and sneered.
"A new look? Our Harry Potter is always so… unconventional."
"Professor—and me. I'm here too."
Darren stepped directly in front of Snape, almost under his nose.
Snape glared at him.
"My eyes aren't blind."
"Then stop talking only about my brother."
[Ding, Father +100]
[Ding, Father +100]
[Ding, Father +100]
Snape's lips twitched.
"I just thought the amount of blood on him was… impressive."
Harry barely managed to restrain his anger.
He didn't know why—
Even knowing that Darren and Snape had acted together before, even knowing much of it had been a performance, he still couldn't bring himself to like Snape.
Something about him felt wrong.
Snape felt fake. Like a spy wearing the wrong mask.
The thought gnawed at Harry constantly.
Of course, it didn't help that Snape never even tried to seem pleasant.
Harry desperately wanted to shout that Snape was Voldemort's lackey—but when he glanced at Darren, he swallowed the words.
Darren didn't like him saying that.
And Snape, perhaps sensing Darren's presence, restrained himself.
When they reached the Great Hall entrance, Snape said coldly,
"Go put your luggage away and change your clothes."
Darren nodded, gave Harry a look, and left.
Harry turned to follow—
But Snape grabbed him by the arm.
Once Darren was gone, Snape leaned in and sneered viciously.
"Darren Potter may not know you well, but I do."
"You wanted attention. You couldn't fly a car this year, so you chose this little spectacle instead—bloodied face, dramatic entrance."
"You want to be noticed."
"You're talking nonsense!"
Harry roared.
Snape smiled—slow, satisfied, malicious.
It was obvious.
He'd been waiting for this.
"Shouting at a professor," Snape said calmly.
"Gryffindor loses fifty points."
Harry clenched his fists.
"I don't think anyone's ever lost fifty points before the school year even began," Snape added.
"But it suits you. Very Harry Potter."
Harry turned to leave.
Snape stopped him again.
"That's enough. Don't bother changing clothes. I think this is exactly what you wanted, isn't it?"
"Go in like that. Let everyone stare."
"Your foolish brother will think I'm bullying you."
"Go on."
Harry nearly exploded.
Snape was bullying him.
He hated him.
Because Sirius and Harry had almost fallen behind the curtain, and Darren had saved them.
Because Snape regretted that Sirius hadn't died.
Because Darren's strength made Snape cautious—and so Snape took it out on Harry instead.
Harry shot him a cold look and stormed into the Great Hall with his trunk.
Ron and Hermione stared at him in horror.
"You're covered in blood—where's Darren?!"
"He went to change," Harry said grimly.
"I ran into Malfoy."
Hermione's face went pale.
"Darren's fine," Harry added.
"He knocked Malfoy flat. Malfoy's probably still lying there."
"Hopefully someone finds him before the train reaches London."
As he spoke, Malfoy suddenly rushed into the Great Hall.
And right behind him—
Darren.
A wave of shocked murmurs rippled through the students.
He was clearly even more striking than last year.
Hermione frowned.
"He's even better-looking… and they're staring like idiots."
Harry almost told her she wasn't much better—but wisely stayed silent.
What worried him more was something else.
When Darren sat down at the Slytherin table, the dessert appeared—
But Darren didn't eat.
Harry noticed immediately.
So did many others.
Several girls looked worried.
Cassandra beside him offered a beef patty.
Darren shook his head and refused politely.
Harry remembered Malfoy's words on the train.
The Worley family's future son-in-law.
Darren must have rejected her to avoid dragging her into danger.
The thought made Harry's chest ache.
He whispered to Ron,
"Darren's never even been in love…"
Ron stared at him.
"And neither have you."
Harry froze.
Right.
He'd never been in love either.
Why was he acting like Darren was especially pitiful?
Ron smirked.
"Maybe it's early-onset menopause. Men get it too."
Harry jabbed him hard in the ribs.
Ron yelped.
Fortunately—
Dumbledore stood up.
As headmaster, he didn't scold or frown. He laughed warmly.
"Happy new semester, everyone!"
He opened his arms wide.
And Darren, watching carefully, noticed something important—
Dumbledore's hands were clean.
No scars.
No trace of damage at all.
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