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"Well then, Darren, you're going to take Veritaserum. Do you agree?"
Fudge's eyes fixed on him.
For a mont, the entire courtroom held its breath. People expected hesitation—fear, resistance, or reluctant agreent. What they did not expect was the strange, almost unreadable look in Darren's eyes.
He even asked quietly, "Minister… are you certain you want to take Veritaserum? You know whatever I say afterwards will—"
"Just answer whether you agree or not," Fudge cut him off sharply. "And even if you didn't agree, I could simply put it to the Wizengamot for a show of hands. I'm quite sure most of them would approve the use of Veritaserum on you anyway."
His tone was cold, dismissive—clearly assuming Darren was frightened.
Yet Darren's expression carried sothing deeper, sothing that made even Fudge uneasy, though he couldn't explain why.
"But if I take it," Darren tried again, "what cos out… it might—"
"As long as you agree, the questioning is our responsibility," Fudge snapped again.
Inside, Darren nearly laughed.
He wasn't rushing toward death—not today.
But he forced his voice to tremble. "Minister… you won't bla for anything I say, will you?"
"As long as you tell the truth, of course not," Fudge replied confidently.
"Co here then. Sign this."
Darren lowered his eyes to the parchnt. It listed all the regulations:
—If any physical harm occurs, it's the subject's own misfortune.
—If private matters are revealed under Veritaserum, they cannot be withdrawn.
—The Wizengamot accepts no liability.
He hesitated only briefly before signing.
Fudge almost bead.
The parchnt was then passed to Harry, Dumbledore, Nicolas Flal, and finally to the rest of the Wizengamot. Reporters photographed everything eagerly, capturing this "proof of fairness."
"Well then," Fudge said, "Dumbledore, you said the Potions Master brought the Veritaserum?"
"Of course," Dumbledore replied, lifting a hand.
Monts later, Snape was escorted inside. He looked irritated, but silently handed a small vial of clear solution to the Wizengamot.
"Everyone may verify it," he said curtly.
Fudge nodded. It was the traditional Veritaserum.
Darren noticed it too.
Snape didn't bring any new formulation?
Or did he think a newer batch would make people suspicious?
While Darren pondered this, the Wizengamot mbers—and even so parents—hurried forward to inspect the potion.
Once all were satisfied it was genuine, a stern-looking wizard stepped forward and handed Darren the vial.
"Drink."
Darren touched the cool glass with sothing like dark amusent. After today, Fudge might be the one dragged into a courtroom just like this.
[Ding, host has ingested a moderate amount of Veritaserum. Consciousness will be affected within thirty seconds. Would the host like to spend 100 Father Points to nullify the effect?]
[Use.]
[Effect successfully nullified.]
The system's voice faded, and Darren slipped into that practiced, distant trance—his expression blank, his voice soft, his presence seemingly empty.
Snape's cold voice carried across the hall. "We may begin."
"So then, Darren Potter," Fudge said, sounding almost relaxed, "why didn't you manage to detain a single Death Eater?"
He already expected an answer involving weakness, interrupted spells, or lack of skill.
"Because they attacked ," Darren answered in a dull monotone. "My spell was interrupted and mispronounced. That's why it happened."
His words crashed over the room like thunder.
Every head snapped toward the group of students—Conte and the others—who Darren had risked so much to save. And they had attacked him?
"I didn't!"
"That's impossible!"
"We never did anything like that!"
"We didn't! We can all testify for each other!"
Conte and his friends looked furious, bewildered.
In their mories, they had done no such thing.
Darren blinked slowly.
Right.
They hadn't actually done it.
They hadn't even fought Death Eaters.
But… they had offended him.
More than once.
"What evidence do you have that they attacked you?" Dumbledore asked, voice heavy.
"Conte used the Stunning Spell on ," Darren said flatly. "Mark hit with a Bone-Crushing Hex. Their wand records will show it."
[Ding, Father 70]
[Ding, Father 80]
[Ding, Father 60]
[Ding…]
Darren continued naming them one by one, recounting exactly which curses and hexes they'd supposedly launched at him.
Of course, these details had been planted by the system—fail-safes Darren had prepared for situations just like this. Those boys had been handed an opportunity, several even, and squandered every one.
"So," Dumbledore said pleasantly, "we can check their wands."
"I am the Minister!" Fudge hissed.
But he still gestured to a wizard, who went forward, lifted Conte's wand, and cast the Priori Incantatem pre-spell.
A flash burst from the tip—revealing a red jet of light.
The signature of a Stunning Spell.
The others' wands produced the exact spells Darren described.
"No way!" Conte shouted. "Darren must've used our wands himself! Otherwise we'd rember doing that!"
"Yes!" One parent shouted. "How could our children do sothing so horrible? Minister Fudge—this must be a mistake!"
Fudge swallowed hard and turned toward Darren.
"So tell —why don't they rember any of this?"
"Because after the Death Eaters disappeared," Darren murmured, "they planned to join forces and kill . They said that with all the injuries on my body, no one would question it. They wanted to finish with a Bone-Crushing Hex."
Gasps filled the courtroom.
"I panicked. I tried to run. They stopped . They wanted to cast on together. I had no choice. I used Obliviate. So they don't rember."
[Ding, Father 100]
[Ding, Father 100]
[Ding, Father 100]
[Ding…]
As Darren droned on in that empty, dazed voice, the courtroom fell into stunned silence.
Everyone stared at the Slytherin boys.
Their expressions were horrified—because now the entire world saw them as monsters.
Not students.
Not victims.
Not even cruel teenagers.
But sothing far worse.
Beasts.
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