Chapter 651 : Father Owes Son Ah!!
I have to say, the Forbidden Forest really does contain an astonishing number of creatures.
The Ministry of Magic allows many magical beasts to live here, and even on the outer edges alone there are numerous centaurs.
Unfortunately, these centaurs remembered eating far better than they remembered fighting.
What Darren had done to them last time not only failed to make them behave, but the moment they saw him again, they wanted to gather all their kin and "clean him up."
In the end, Darren stopped them all by simply pulling up his hood.
Listening to the centaurs shout loudly, ordering them to get out of the Forbidden Forest and declaring that the forest did not welcome them, Darren calmly bent down and picked up a young unicorn foal.
Smiling, he said,
"I didn't realize centaurs could already speak on behalf of every creature in the Forbidden Forest.
"If I decide to stay at Hogwarts long-term, and you don't change your attitude or keep attacking students, I'll kick you out.
"And when I say kick you out, I don't mean locking you up. I mean gone."
The centaurs' hooves scraped restlessly against the ground.
Clearly, they were seeing—through the stars—the possibility of their future exile.
It was unbelievable to them.
There had never been a future where centaurs left the Forbidden Forest.
Yet because of this boy's words, they might truly be driven out.
The stars were always shifting, but one thing was certain: if this boy said it, he could make it happen.
Reluctantly, the centaurs compromised.
They claimed they did not serve human cubs—only that they refused to care for them.
Then they vanished swiftly from Darren's sight.
---
The class inside the Forbidden Forest was surprisingly interesting.
When Darren finally came out, Harry and the others still hadn't arrived. It seemed they really had already said goodbye to Hagrid.
Darren headed straight to Defense Against the Dark Arts.
When he arrived, Harry was already waiting at the door.
That was normal—if Harry were late to Snape's class, Snape would absolutely deduct points.
Harry and the others spotted Darren and waved him over, but at that moment Snape arrived.
"Inside. No talking."
Snape's voice was cold.
The Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom had been transformed into something eerily similar to Snape's dungeon Potions room.
The lighting was dim, the curtains tightly drawn. Only candlelight flickered along the walls.
Gruesome images hung everywhere—one showed a man being dragged apart by countless hands. Anyone with trypophobia would have been shaking.
Snape's opening speech was much like his Potions introductions: smug, cutting, and triumphant.
"So far, you've had five different professors for this subject," Snape said.
"It's remarkable that any of you have learned anything at all."
Under their breath, Harry and the others cursed him.
Snape was the sixth—statistically speaking, he wouldn't last either.
Snape's gaze snapped toward Harry, as if he'd sensed the thought.
"This subject requires willpower—and talent," Snape continued.
"Some people who couldn't even achieve an Outstanding in Potions clearly lack both. Their minds resemble… congealed paste."
Harry trembled with rage.
He knew exactly who that was aimed at.
The Slytherins burst into laughter.
Malfoy turned around and echoed Snape loudly, "Mush for brains."
More laughter.
Snape didn't reprimand him.
Instead, he cast Harry a satisfied look, savoring his anger, before turning away.
"…Now," Snape said coolly, "most of you are still inexperienced with non-verbal spells. Tell me—what is their advantage?"
His gaze landed on Darren.
Darren recalled Snape's answer from the original timeline and smiled slightly.
"The sixth-year Defense Against the Dark Arts textbook says that non-verbal spells prevent your opponent from knowing what you're casting, giving you a brief advantage," Darren said calmly.
"Of course, if surprise is the goal, misdirection works just as well—such as… Protego."
Darren spoke the last word aloud.
At the same time, a non-verbal Petrification Charm struck Snape.
It didn't hit Snape directly—only the corner of his robes—but that alone was enough to prove Darren's control.
Snape stared at him for a long moment.
Finally, he said flatly,
"Due to Darren Potter's… impressive demonstration, Slytherin gains one point."
From somewhere behind him, Darren heard Harry mutter a furious response.
Honestly—if this had been Professor McGonagall's class, it would have been twenty points.
One point was clearly intentional.
But that was expected.
After all, last year's "falling out" between them was meant for Voldemort's eyes. If they were supposedly estranged, Snape couldn't openly favor him.
"Now," Snape said, "pair up and practice non-verbal spells."
Darren was partnered with Hermione.
Hermione looked miserable, gripping her wand as if constipated with tension.
He gently guided and helped her
Ten minutes later, she finally managed a non-verbal Leg-Locker Curse.
Darren flicked his wand.
A shimmering Protego surrounded him.
The curse struck—and rebounded harmlessly.
Their performance drew a great deal of attention.
Snape pretended not to notice and instead stopped in front of Harry, who was paired with Ron.
Calling it "practice" was generous—the two of them clearly had no grasp of non-verbal casting.
Snape sneered.
He shoved Ron aside.
"I'll demonstrate. Potter."
"You don't have to—"
Harry blurted out.
Snape's smile was razor-thin.
"Detention this Saturday. Gryffindor, minus twenty points."
---
Storming out of class, Harry shouted,
"Every professor who teaches this subject ends up gone or dead! I hope Snape's the second!"
"Brother," Darren said helplessly, "it's Professor Snape—and you really shouldn't curse him like that."
"He doesn't even give you extra points! One point—who's he insulting?"
"This is part of the plan—"
"Yes, I know," Harry snapped.
"But I don't think he's acting. I think he genuinely hates us."
Darren could only sigh.
"Isn't that normal?" he said.
"After all—our father bullied him. The father owes the son."
[Ding, Father +100]
[Ding, Father +100]
[Ding, Father +100]
Harry froze.
"How do you know? He never—"
"He didn't tell me," Darren said calmly.
"I figured it out.
"You and Professor Snape are practically at each other's throats—act or not. He was genuinely furious.
"So of course I went to look into it."
He patted Harry's shoulder lightly.
"So, brother—endure it.
"Just remind yourself: father owes his son."