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Chapter 645 – Where Are You Poking?!!
When Darren arrived in Diagon Alley, even though he already knew from the original story that the place was no longer as lively as before, he was still taken aback.
It was indeed still bustling, but the atmosphere had changed completely.
The witches and wizards passing through the street no longer wore relaxed smiles. Instead, nearly everyone looked tense and uneasy.
Most people behaved much like Mrs. Weasley—hurrying through their shopping, buying what they needed, then leaving as quickly as possible.
The once-colourful shop signs and flashy advertisements had vanished. In their place were stark notices issued by the Ministry of Magic—warnings, safety instructions, and large wanted posters.
Oversized portraits of Death Eaters lined the walls.
Darren's gaze paused briefly on one of them.
Bellatrix Lestrange.
Her thin face, twisted into a delighted smile, stared straight ahead as if she were looking right at him.
It sent a chill down his spine, like something out of a horror film.
Mrs. Weasley grew even more nervous at the sight. She quickly pulled out her list.
"First, Madam Malkin's," she said briskly.
"Ron's robes are five centimetres too short."
Harry's and Darren's robes weren't much better—they were so short that the two of them had been wearing Muggle clothes lately.
"Hagrid, could you take them to the robe shop?" Mrs. Weasley asked.
"I'll go buy the textbooks at Flourish and Blotts. Is that alright?"
"No problem," Hagrid said loudly.
"Happy to help!"
He led Darren and the others to Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions, then stopped at the door.
"You go on in," Hagrid said a little awkwardly.
"I'll stay out here."
It wasn't that he didn't want to go in—he simply wouldn't fit.
So Harry, Darren, Ron, and Ginny went inside on their own.
The moment they stepped through the door, a familiar, irritated voice rang out.
"Mother, this place is filthy. I really hate coming here—hey! Where are you poking?! Watch it!"
Malfoy's voice.
The four of them exchanged looks.
At the same time, Malfoy noticed them.
A sneer immediately spread across his face.
"Mother, do you smell that?" he drawled.
"There's the stench of a half-giant's pet, the stink of Mudbloods, the sour smell of poverty—and of course, that disgusting scar-headed hero."
In one sentence, he managed to insult four people at once.
"Shut up, Malfoy," Darren snapped coldly.
"If you keep talking about my brother and them, I won't let this go."
[Ding, Father +100]
[Ding, Father +100]
[Ding, Father +100]
[Ding…]
Darren's expression hardened as he drew his wand.
Malfoy instinctively stepped back.
His face turned even paler, his anger burning hotter.
"You're all mixed up with trash, Potter," Malfoy sneered.
"You'll die sooner or later."
"Enough!" Madam Malkin said hurriedly.
"Put those wands away—this is my shop!"
Then, noticing Harry and the others still gripping their wands, she added sharply,
"And if anyone dares hurt my customers—"
Before she could finish, the curtain behind her was drawn aside.
Narcissa Malfoy stepped out.
She looked as though she had just been trying on robes. Her expression was one of pure disdain—until her eyes landed on Darren.
For a brief moment, something desperate and painful flickered across her face.
Then she lowered her head and masked it completely.
"Draco," she said coldly.
"We're leaving."
Malfoy shot Harry a final glare.
"This shop welcomes all sorts," he sneered.
"I don't intend to buy clothes here."
He tossed the robes in his hands onto the counter and stormed out, dragging Narcissa with him.
Only after they left did the tension ease.
Darren and Harry quietly placed their orders and left the shop. Mrs. Weasley soon rejoined them, and together they headed to the apothecary.
Darren restocked several potions.
With the exception of Divination, his grades meant no professor would refuse his electives.
Harry and Ron, however, did not buy Potions materials.
Their Potions grades weren't high enough to continue the subject at an advanced level.
So they only picked up owl treats.
Once everything on the list was done, they headed toward Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes.
Mrs. Weasley froze in shock when she saw the shop sign.
"Treat Your Constipation."
Before she could react, Darren was spotted by Fred and George.
They dragged him inside enthusiastically.
"Darren, look around!" Fred said proudly.
"This place exists thanks to you."
"No matter what you take, it's free."
"And," George added seriously,
"we've started saving money for you. We're afraid you'll donate everything we give you back."
"So we'll save it for you ourselves. When we buy you a house, you can move in."
"A man needs a place to live if he wants a wife—even if it's small!"
Darren froze.
Did they really think all he needed was a tiny house?
Still, he didn't say that.
Instead, he frowned.
"You worked hard to open this shop. You don't need to give me the profits."
"If you really insist, just return the two thousand Galleons I invested. I don't need shares."
[Ding, Father +100]
[Ding, Father +100]
[Ding, Father +100]
[Ding…]
"Don't be ridiculous," Fred said.
"We can't let you take a loss."
"We've always treated you like a younger brother," George added.
"Of course we give things to our little brother."
"Exactly—Ron, what are you doing now? Trying to empty the shop?!"
George shouted.
Ron glared back.
"Why shouldn't I take it? Aren't I your brother too?"
"My brother settles accounts clearly," Fred said cheerfully.
"That'll be three Galleons and thirteen Sickles."
Ron angrily slammed the product back onto the shelf.
"Hey, why does Ron have to pay?" Darren asked quickly.
"I'll pay for him."
Fred and George refused outright.
They wouldn't let Darren spend a single Knut in their shop.
Ron, standing nearby, was shaking with rage.
"Favouritism!" he yelled.
"You're like this with Darren, with Ginny—never with me!"
"Sorry about that," Fred said lightly.
"Darren invested two thousand Galleons, this shop belongs to him too."
"And Ginny's our little sister—"
He stopped mid-sentence.
Because Ginny was staring intently at a certain product.
"Oh, Ginny," George said,
"I don't think a good girl should drug a boy she likes."
"I'm just looking!" Ginny snapped.
"You're not even allowed to look," Fred said knowingly.
"Don't think we don't know what you're thinking."
"Ron told us—said your hormones have been acting up lately and you—"
"Enough!" Ginny shouted.
"Dad doesn't control me like this. Both of you, shut up!"
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