NOTE :- this chapter is side story , same as earlies ::-Snape's Memories
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Chapter 218 — I Don't Pay Attention to Him Yet?!!
Snape POV :-
"Dumbledore, what are you asking me to do now?"
Snape entered the Headmaster's office with visible irritation. Every time he stepped into Dumbledore's office, something managed to make him angry.
"Oh, forgive me for calling you so late, Severus. It is truly impolite," Dumbledore said mildly. "But I still hope you can help me discover who placed a curse on Harry's Bludger "
"A curse?"
Snape immediately remembered the daytime incident—how the little cub had panicked after being hurt by Harry Potter's mistake.
He gave a sharp, impatient sneer.
"What is there to investigate? It must have been some of the Slytherins fooling around. It's not as if Death Eaters could sneak in just to hex Harry Potter's toy. Dumbledore, surely you don't think—like that little cub does—that someone is trying to kill the Boy Who Lived?"
Snape curled his lip.
With a curse of that low level, even if the Ball had knocked Harry's head off, it would've been laughable.
"Well, the possibility is small, but we still cannot ignore it. Severus, you must pay attention to that boy—"
"Pay attention? Am I not paying enough attention already? I follow him every day!"
Snape snapped.
But then he caught Dumbledore's knowing expression—the one that saw through everything—and his confidence faltered.
In truth… he hadn't been paying attention to Harry Potter.
Not the way Darren did.
If he had truly watched Harry closely, as Darren did, he wouldn't have mocked him as he ran from the out-of-control Bludger Ball. He would have been worried.
But paying that much attention to Harry Potter?
Looking at that face—the exact copy of James Potter's—wasn't it sickening?
Snape gritted his teeth.
"Severus, there's no need to become excited. I only mean to remind you… Harry is also her son."
Dumbledore sighed softly, as though invoking Lily's memory might stir Snape's heart.
But Snape remained unmoved.
He could not look at James Potter's face and think of Lily Evans.
Just as Dumbledore could not look at Darren and genuinely see "the next saviour."
"Well then," Dumbledore continued gently, "let us discuss something else. I heard you have… separated yourself from Darren?"
Snape's face darkened instantly.
He thought of the boy's recent coldness—no greeting, no warm smile, only polite distance.
His jaw tightened.
After a long silence, he forced out an annoyed, "What separation? I never liked him much to begin with."
"Oh? But I've heard that Darren has grown cold toward you lately—"
"Enough. I'm not interested in listening to this. I'm leaving."
Snape turned sharply and walked out, furious.
Cold?
Darren was beyond cold. The cub sometimes didn't even greet him anymore!
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Early Sunday morning, someone knocked on his office door.
Two Slytherin girls stood nervously outside.
"Professor, is it true someone said Darren—Darren Potter—was petrified?"
Snape's anger froze.
They explained they had knocked on Darren's door for a long time, but he didn't answer. He hadn't come out since last night either.
Snape's irritation weakened into unease.
Had that foolish little Potter cub gone wandering again last night and gotten petrified in some corridor?
Hands trembling slightly, he grabbed his wand and hurried to the Slytherin dormitory, flinging open Darren's door.
The room was neat and untouched.
A note lay on the desk:
Went out for a walk.
Of course.
The Potter cub had no sense of danger whatsoever.
How was he not petrified?
Snape dismissed the girls with a curt line about having better things to do and stormed off.
But by noon, the news became worse.
Darren was not in the castle.
He had not appeared in class, or in the Great Hall, or in any hallway.
Harry Potter was frantic.
Snape wanted to mock him, but the words wouldn't come.
Something cold sat in his stomach.
He searched every corner of Hogwarts—including all the old secret passages he knew.
Nothing.
Not a single trace.
At last, in desperation, he went to Dumbledore—ready to demand permission to interrogate every Slytherin one by one.
Surely he could force out a clue.
But Harry Potter was there too.
The saviour, glowing with heroism everywhere he stepped.
Snape's irritation spiked, and he changed his tone mid-sentence, saying instead that Harry Potter should be arrested and interrogated, and listing various hypothetical torture methods.
But halfway through, a dreadful thought hit him—
What if Darren had been taken?
What if someone was torturing him right now?
The words died in his throat.
Mercifully, McGonagall burst in with a lead.
Something had been found near the Black Lake.
Snape nearly slipped while running.
When he reached the lakeside, he finally saw him—
Darren.
Covered in blood.
Torn by horrific wounds.
As though someone had tried to kill him again and again.
Snape recognized the curses immediately:
The Cruciatus Curse.
The Heart-Drilling Curse.
The Soul-Destroying Hex.
Everything short of the Killing Curse had been inflicted upon him.
His breathing was so faint it seemed ready to vanish any second.
Terrified, Snape pulled every healing potion he had and poured them gently down the boy's throat.
Thank Merlin the cub's life was stubborn…
Once Darren was rushed to St. Mungo's, Snape finally had the presence of mind to check on the others.
Of the fifteen students found with Darren—
Nine were dead.
Six were barely alive.
If he had arrived a few minutes later… Darren would have been one of the corpses.
Half in a daze, Snape followed Dumbledore to interrogate the survivors.
Everyone suspected Darren.
Only he had been found with them, so there must have been some conflict.
But Snape never believed it.
Darren was too kind.
Too soft.
He wouldn't kill a fly, much less nine students.
And as expected—the truth came out.
It was the others.
The ones who attacked him.
Death Eaters.
They came for Harry Potter.
And instead, they tortured Darren.
Snape's heart twisted with hatred.
Why should Harry Potter's destiny fall on Darren's shoulders?
Why should Darren be the one torn apart?
He even felt a flash of hatred toward Dumbledore—toward Harry Potter—before reality hit him like a blade:
All of this…
Every drop of Darren's blood…
Was because of him.
It was he who delivered the prophecy.
He who drew Voldemort's attention.
He who made Darren Potter a target.
Why was he shouting at others?
James Potter had once called him a bitter, vicious, petty old bat.
Sometimes…
Snape thought James might have been right.
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