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"Darren, did you use that spell again? It's really as amazing as the professor said!"
Harry cried out in delight as he watched Tom Riddle scream in the fire, and the basilisk's shadow being swallowed by the roaring flas.
He didn't think anything was wrong.
To him, Darren was simply incredible.
He had imagined Voldemort to be impossibly powerful, yet Darren had "killed" him so easily.
Darren looked back at him.
A small smile appeared on his face—
happy, because Harry was happy.
But in the next second, that smile collapsed, leaving only a pale, hopeless emptiness.
"Brother…"
Darren called out softly to Harry.
Harry stared at his expression, stunned.
He was confused.
Why had Darren suddenly changed?
They were about to defeat Voldemort—shouldn't he be relieved?
Even though he didn't understand, Harry still rushed to comfort him.
"It's okay, don't be afraid. This is just a mory of Voldemort, not the real him. Darren, you're not a murderer!"
He thought Darren was worried about having hurt soone.
But Harry felt the exact opposite.
Voldemort had killed their parents.
A little revenge wasn't wrong at all.
Darren shook his head.
"Brother… I'm not afraid of killing him.
He killed Mum and Dad, and he wanted to kill you, and he insulted Professor Dumbledore. I just…"
He shook his head bitterly.
Then continued, voice trembling:
"I just feel like… I lost my brother's trust right in front of you."
"Professor Lockhart said the Fiendfyre I cast had no 'modified version,' and he hasn't heard of any defensive magic fueled by love or protection. Actually… neither have I.
I know the professors made that explanation just to comfort ."
Darren's face turned even paler.
"So… brother, having a brother like actually drags you down a lot.
Lockhart threatened … said if I didn't obey him, he would tell everyone I used Fiendfyre.
He said he'd ruin your reputation.
Let everyone know that Harry Potter's brother did sothing like that."
"That's why you ca here with him, isn't it?"
"I knew it. You're not stupid enough to take Lockhart into the Chamber on purpose. He threatened you, right?!"
Harry exploded.
Why had he pulled Lockhart along earlier?
He should've left him behind.
He rembered how the basilisk had struck from above—exactly where Darren and Lockhart had been.
If he hadn't dragged Lockhart along, the coward might've been crushed to death.
And now he found out Lockhart had threatened Darren—
Darren, who was already timid and full of self-bla.
No wonder he was devastated.
How vile!
"Darren, don't listen to him. I've heard the professors say it before—your fire spell is different. It isn't a curse. You use love and protection to release it!"
Harry said stubbornly.
How could his brother be a bad person?
So many professors said so.
It couldn't be a curse.
"Brother… the professors prefer to believe that."
Darren lowered his head.
"After all, if I really wasn't using a curse, why didn't Professor McGonagall or Professor Snape realize it imdiately?
Why did we have to wait… for Professor Flitwick to figure it out later?
They just love … and I don't want to make them sad."
The words poured out fluently—
clearly these doubts had sat in his heart for a long ti.
Otherwise, how could Lockhart's threat make him believe it so quickly?
He believed it because he already feared it was true.
"And not just before… even just now, I used Fiendfyre again.
Brother, look at these flas.
They can burn through anything—even Voldemort's mory.
How is that not a curse?"
Darren gave a weak, bitter laugh.
Harry's mind buzzed.
Darren's argunt was convincing.
Had the professors said those things only because they cared too much about Darren?
Harry had never questioned it… because they were professors.
But now…
Maybe they really had only been trying to spare Darren's feelings.
And if he were them, Harry would have done the sa.
No one wanted to see Darren's bright green eyes fill with despair.
Darren sensed Harry's hesitation.
He lowered his head; his eyes were already red.
"Darren, don't be afraid! Even if it is a curse—so what?
I don't care!
What's wrong with Harry Potter's brother using a curse?
If they have a problem with it, let them co at ! I'll protect you!
The Ministry and its regulations—let them go toss themselves!"
Harry said fiercely.
He tried to comfort Darren.
But Darren only shook his head.
Finally, in a dull, hollow voice, he whispered:
"I'm sorry, brother… I can't let you face that. So—"
He suddenly let out a soft, sad laugh.
"So, brother, you don't have to tell anyone you have a younger brother like . It's embarrassing.
I shouldn't show up anyway.
I'm just a broomstick star—always causing trouble for everyone."
"You're not, Darren! You're not!"
Harry suddenly realized sothing was wrong.
He reached toward Darren—
—but Darren stepped into the flas.
The fire swallowed him instantly.
Harry dove in after him without hesitation.
But the roaring flas didn't hurt him at all.
Darren's voice echoed from sowhere ahead—weak, pained, but still gentle.
"Brother… you can't stand being hurt… The professors—cough—probably knew that…
Cough… my Fiendfyre… cough… it really does seem like… it won't hurt anyone except …"
He sounded relieved.
As if this was sothing he had wanted for a long ti.
But Harry was terrified.
Darren's breath was growing weaker.
His coughing was constant.
His voice was fading.
"Darren, where are you? Darren, talk to !"
Harry searched desperately through the flas.
Since the fire didn't hurt him, he pushed through walls of heat without hesitation, trying to find Darren's silhouette.
But the more he searched,
the weaker Darren's voice beca—
until it almost disappeared.
"Darren! Say sothing! Tell where you are!"
"Darren!"
"Is there a professor anywhere? Soone help him!"
"Where's Headmaster Dumbledore?!"
"Darren—where are you?!"
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