---
As Snape and Darren left, the professors who had gone into the Forbidden Forest returned looking relieved. Their faces carried small smiles — clearly nothing catastrophic had happened.
At worst, a number of Acromantulas had been burned. Those creatures were violent and dangerous; few would mourn them. The only person at Hogwarts who might feel genuine loss was Hagrid.
"Where's Darren?" Professor Flitwick asked, puzzled. He noticed Professor McGonagall studying Darren's wand, and with a helpless little smile, comnted, "Don't fuss with it like that — it's obvious to anyone who knows spells."
"This is a modified Fiendfyre," McGonagall said, finally looking up. "Many incantations are shaped by the caster's emotion. The sa words, cast from a different heart, can beco sothing else entirely."
"For example, use a Patronus with dark intent and it becos a harmful charm," Flitwick added. "Darren cast Fiendfyre with love and protection in his heart, so the flas changed color and beca controllable. The Fiendfyre burned the Acromantulas and then died out."
Flitwick's explanation eased a lot of tension. Professor Sprout looked embarrassed but relieved; McGonagall's expression softened into a smile.
"I knew it," McGonagall murmured. "Darren always blas himself too much. He could not be a bad child."
"Right — tell the boy the news," Flitwick said. "Give him his wand back gently. He must be terrified."
McGonagall handed the wand to Harry, still warm and relieved. She even forgot to punish them for wandering off.
Harry opened his mouth to say sothing, but Ron jabbed him in the ribs. "You want points docked?" Ron hissed.
---
Snape escorted Darren back toward the Hospital Wing. Darren walked slowly, shoulders hunched, as if carrying the whole world's bla.
"Hurry up, Potter," Snape snapped, though there was a thin thread of concern in his voice. "Or are you saving it for tomorrow?"
Darren sighed. He hated the Hospital Wing — potions, inspections, being told to rest — but he kept moving. His face stayed carefully sorrowful; it earned him pity, and the system rewards followed.
Inside, Mada Pomfrey was already waiting, cross but worried. Darren, keeping up the act, asked in a small, desperate voice, "Professor, Madam — am I a bad person? I used Fiendfyre. Should I be sent to Azkaban?"
[Ding, Father 100]
[Ding, Father 100]
[Ding, Father 100]
[Ding...]
His eyes reddened. Both Mada Pomfrey and Snape exchanged uneasy looks. The problem was real: Fiendfyre was a dark, dangerous magic, and most who used it were hardened by war or darkness. They could not answer him bluntly.
"Don't be ridiculous," Snape said finally, though his voice was tight. "Whether you can cast a dangerous spell does not make you evil. Drink this."
He shoved a potion forward; Darren took it obediently. Mada Pomfrey eased him onto a bed.
"Sleep now. When you wake you'll be right," she said, softer than she'd sounded in days. "No one's going to make a public fuss about this."
But Darren could not accept comfort. "Please don't lie," he whispered. "If I weren't hopeless, you would have told . I've made things difficult for you."
[Ding, Father 100]
[Ding, Father 100]
[Ding, Father 100]
[Ding...]
The potion's drowsiness washed over him. A small tear slid from the corner of his eye as he fell asleep.
[Ding, Father 100]
[Ding, Father 100]
[Ding, Father 100]
[Ding...]
Harry and Ron burst in then, breathless and worried. Seeing Darren asleep, a tear-brightness at his lashes, made their chests ache.
"We ca to tell him," Harry said quickly, voice raw, "that the professors realized his Fiendfyre was cast with love and protection. He isn't a bad person."
"But it looks like we're a little late," Ron added.
Snape, standing by, managed a dry remark that couldn't fully hide relief. "Fiendfyre itself is not categorized the way the Ministry treats the three Unforgivable Curses," he said. "It's dangerous, but the cri is intent and uncontrolled destruction. The Unforgivables are what land you in Azkaban by law."
He folded his arms, looking torn and stern at once. The words were a reprimand and a reassurance both. Snape's relief was plain beneath the bark — Darren had used terrible power for a noble purpose.
Harry and Ron sat quietly at the bedside until Mada Pomfrey hushed them. Outside, the rest of the castle was calming; the imdiate threat had passed. Inside, Darren slept, exhausted and blad himself in his sleep — but at least, for now, he was safe.
---
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