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Dumbledore and Fudge exchanged confused glances.
The two of them didn't understand what had provoked the reporters' behavior.
Darren, however, knew imdiately.
The system had released a altered version of the photo ball, giving many people a partial glimpse of what had happened back then. Of course, those mories were slightly altered—fabricated—but no one could know that.
Suddenly, the public realized that Darren had been tortured so severely, and yet Fudge had treated him like a criminal during interrogation. Darren himself felt a wave of humiliation at the thought.
"Potter," one reporter began smugly, "I witnessed the mory Ball of that day. Tell … did you deliberately allow the Death Eaters to harm your classmates? Do you feel responsible for their deaths? If you had captured them sooner, wouldn't your classmates have survived? Do their lifeless eyes haunt you every night? Don't you regret it?"
Before Darren could even react, Dumbledore's sharp voice cut through the air.
"Quiet!"
He glared at the female reporter.
"Rita Skeeter! How dare you insult a hero like this? I will report your behavior imdiately!"
Mr. Weasley quickly squeezed in, covering Darren's ears so the reporter's malicious words wouldn't reach him.
Darren looked up at Rita Skeeter—a woman with jeweled glasses and a delicately coiffed mass of blonde hair.
Her teeth glimred even more unnaturally than Lockhart's, and she smiled at him with irritating self-satisfaction.
The woman seed like an Animagus—like a beetle, small and intrusively watchful. Her glasses, framing her sharp eyes, added to the resemblance.
Just like Harry had faced her, Darren thought, only now it's .
[Ding: Temporary Holy Father mission activated—stand next to Rita Skeeter with a pale face, draw your wand expressionlessly, aim at yourself, and say in a pained voice: "They're all dead because of .
You're right. I killed them. I should have died long ago." Then chant the Shatter Bones Curse. Wait for Dumbledore to stop you.]
[Ding: Mission completion will reward "Forged History." Will the host accept?]
Forged History? Darren wondered. What is that?
The system would presumably explain shortly.
He closed his eyes, and when he reopened them, they were red with intensity.
He gently refused Mr. Weasley's protective hand and faced Rita Skeeter, who was still pressing her questions with malicious glee.
Taking a deep breath, Darren slowly drew his wand.
Rita's expression shifted from surprise to curiosity.
"Are you… going to do sothing to ?" she asked. "Because I was just asking about your… issues."
Darren's lips twitched almost imperceptibly. Rita Skeeter was one of the most annoying characters he had ever t, and he decided to make her regret her audacity.
Softly, he said, "You're right. I caused their deaths. I failed at the ti. I did nothing, and they died… I've felt that way for a long ti… You're right, I shouldhave died long ago ."
His eyes were empty, lifeless.
Dumbledore's heart sank as he gripped his wand tightly.
Then, in an instant, Darren pointed his wand at his chest.
"Shatter Bones!" he whispered.
"Obstacles!"
An invisible wall sprang into existence. Darren shifted the spell slightly, and it rebounded off the barrier, striking Rita Skeeter.
[Ding: Mission complete—reward earned: Forged History.]
Forged History: The host can imagine a version of history and make it a temporary reality.
The courtroom erupted in chaos.
"Ah! Potter's killing !"
"Potter's going to kill !"
"Oh my God! I'm going to die!"
Rita Skeeter scread, a deep scar now running from her face to her neck, blood spurting in all directions.
Wizards rushed forward.
"Don't move! Don't look! Let's get out of here!"
Mr. Weasley positioned himself in front of Darren, who instinctively wanted to intervene, but Dumbledore pressed his hand firmly on Darren's shoulder and pulled him forward with irresistible force.
"Arthur, I'll take Darren back to Hogwarts first. And you, get Harry from the Flyway Network—he's in your office, right?" Dumbledore said seriously. "Bring him back to Hogwarts imdiately."
Then he fixed his gaze on Darren. "I'm sorry, but once we get to the school, I'll undo the spell."
"Headmaster… Dumbledore, Darren…"
"Rest assured," Dumbledore said, raising his wand.
In a blink, they returned to Hogwarts. Darren barely had ti to complain about the complications of Phantom Transfiguration before being nearly pulled into the Headmaster's office.
"Sit, my boy," Dumbledore commanded, waving his wand so that Darren could finally move.
"I'm sorry, Headmaster… I worried you…" Darren murmured guiltily.
[Ding: Father 80]
Dumbledore didn't speak, but silently awarded him 80 Father points, his expression warm and patient, encouraging Darren to continue.
For a mont, Darren wondered if Dumbledore had seen through his performance and was letting him perform freely.
But he quickly dismissed the thought.
Dumbledore simply watched him pause, still sighing softly, and retrieved a Shadow Ball from his pocket.
"Good boy. I'll open this here. Don't mind, will you?"
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