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Chapter 10 — The Silent Secret
Should I study Darren's bloodline more closely?
The thought flickered in Dumbledore's mind.
But he quickly pushed it aside.
Family bloodlines were sacred — private things not to be dissected, even for knowledge's sake.
And even though Darren was still a child — kind, polite, and trusting — Dumbledore refused to exploit that trust for curiosity.
There was something far more pressing:
Lily's protective blood charm.
That ancient magic had been meant to shield everyone she recognized as family.
Logically, Darren should have been protected by it too.
Yet when Dumbledore had traced the spell's power years ago, he'd found no trace of Darren at all.
He'd assumed then that the boy was dead.
Now, with Darren standing before him alive and well, Dumbledore needed to know why Lily's spell hadn't touched him.
Had Lily believed Darren was already gone when she cast the charm?
It was possible… but unlikely.
He raised his wand and cast several diagnostic spells in quiet succession.
The more he saw, the darker his expression grew.
Still, he forced a reassuring smile, not wanting to frighten the boy.
But the truth made his stomach drop.
> Darren was a Silent.
A Silent.
That explained it.
No wonder Lily's blood charm hadn't bound to him — the dark, chaotic nature of the Obscurus must have counteracted it.
Two opposite forces, canceling each other out.
As everyone knew, Silents — or Obscurials — rarely lived past the age of ten.
It was unthinkable that Darren could still be alive and whole at eleven.
Dumbledore's mind spun. How could this be?
"Darren," he asked gently, his voice serious now, "have you ever felt… another power inside you? Something strong — but dark, perhaps frightening?"
Darren blinked, then realized what Dumbledore was getting at.
Ah. So he's talking about my Silence.
Perfect. One more tragic layer to his "suffering orphan" story.
"Yes, Professor Dumbledore," Darren said earnestly. "When I was little, I sometimes felt something strange inside me. It scared me, so I tried to ignore it. Eventually, it just… went away.
But I think it's still there, hidden. It's never hurt anyone, though — it feels kind somehow. So I haven't worried about it."
He spoke with the innocent tone of a boy trying to be brave.
Dumbledore was left speechless.
A kind Obscurus? Impossible.
But Darren's sincerity couldn't be faked.
"So you're saying," Dumbledore said slowly, "that this power — your Silence — has never emerged, and you believe it means you no harm?"
Darren nodded eagerly.
Of course it was nonsense, but he couldn't exactly tell Dumbledore that it was the system that kept him alive — or that it consumed Holy Father Points by the minute.
Better to let Dumbledore fill in the blanks himself.
And he did.
Dumbledore fell silent again, deep in thought.
He knew that magic, at its core, responded to emotion — to intent.
But Silence was something else entirely: a parasitic, uncontrollable darkness.
No Obscurus had ever been peaceful.
Yet here was Darren — alive, calm, untainted.
It made no sense.
In the old days, Obscurials were born when children were forced to suppress their magic to avoid persecution.
Over time, that repression twisted into a destructive force that consumed them from within.
But Darren's case was… unnatural.
He hadn't hated his magic. He'd merely feared it.
And instead of devouring him, the Obscurus seemed to have merged with him — quietly dormant, as though asleep.
That might even explain why Darren's name hadn't appeared in the Book of Admittance for Hogwarts until recently.
Perhaps his magic had been buried too deeply to register.
But then why did it appear now?
What had changed?
Before he could ask, Darren spoke again, following Dumbledore's train of thought like a mind reader.
"Professor Dumbledore," he said softly, "I think I might've used that power earlier today. Before you came to find me."
Dumbledore straightened slightly. "Oh? Tell me what happened."
Darren hesitated — then put on a bashful smile.
"Well… Kenley was trying to get me in trouble. So I… um… tried to run. And suddenly, I felt that strange power — I ran much faster than usual."
Dumbledore blinked.
He couldn't decide whether to laugh or sigh.
The boy used an Obscurus just to run faster.
Still, Dumbledore couldn't ignore the implication.
If Darren could control his Silence even that much — even a little — it was unprecedented.
"Let's try something simple," Dumbledore said finally, drawing his wand. "This spell is Wingardium Leviosa. It makes objects float."
He demonstrated twice, then offered his wand to Darren.
The moment Darren touched it, a pulse of power rushed through him.
So potent, so ancient, it made his fingers tingle.
His eyes widened.
The Elder Wand.
Dumbledore's wand — the most dangerous wand in existence.
And this old fox was testing him with it.
Really, old man? Even after all this Holy Father acting? You still don't trust me?
Darren smiled politely on the outside — but inside, he couldn't help thinking:
The headmaster is a silver-tongued schemer, through and through.
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