---
Harry and the others had thought that the most terrifying thing Darren had experienced was what they saw inside the photoball.
But now, they finally witnessed sothing even more horrifying.
The Death Eaters were like demons.
Seeing the suffering of those Muggles alone was unbearable for Harry—let alone for Darren, who was always so kind.
Darren had killed.
Harry covered his eyes almost instinctively.
He saw Darren killing.
Yet he could not bla him at all.
He felt no anger toward him, not even a trace of resentnt.
Harry had heard that those who killed were said to have corrupted souls, but when he looked at Darren, all he could feel was deep sorrow.
At that ti, Darren must have been completely desperate.
They had only seen how powerful he was after returning.
They could never know what he had truly gone through.
"Darren gave these mories that day, and I entered them with him..." Dumbledore said quietly.
"It was there that he broke down.
He kept screaming, desperately trying to kill himself. He believed he had fallen into darkness… that he had murdered everyone.
He called himself a monster… a stain on this world…
I had no choice but to take him to the hospital wing. You all know what happened after that."
Dumbledore brought them back to his office.
Terror and despair were still written all over their faces, and the suffocating weight of what they had seen refused to go away.
"All right, children. A glass of milk for each of you. Calm yourselves and go back to sleep…"
"Harry, stay behind. I need to speak with you."
Fred and George, Hermione, and Ginny nodded sluggishly.
After drinking the milk, they left the office.
Harry remained seated, staring at Dumbledore.
Tears were still clinging to his face.
Dumbledore spoke gently.
"Harry, I know you are angry… Angry that I asked Darren to reveal his mories."
"That's right!" Harry burst out.
"You knew! You knew he couldn't bear it, and you still—"
"No, Harry." Dumbledore interrupted softly.
"I didn't know.
Just like you, I thought Darren had only endured torture—sothing terrible, yes—but within what his mind could bear.
I wanted to use his mory to find clues… to identify the cris of those people."
He sighed.
"Harry, I am not a god. I am not rlin."
"I'm just an ordinary… albeit slightly magical old man.
You may think I see everything, know everything—but I don't.
And this ti… I failed."
He looked down.
"I was the one who caused Darren to suffer like this.
So I had to help him forget… just as I did in the end.
The reason I asked you to stay is because you must be careful.
If anything goes wrong, Darren's buried mories could make him collapse again.
I need you to keep him from thinking about that night…
and help him look forward instead of backward."
Dumbledore's voice was solemn.
Harry nodded quickly.
Looking at the old man, the anger in his heart faded away.
Dumbledore truly cared about Darren.
"All right, child," Dumbledore said with a tired smile.
"Go back and rest. An old man like needs his sleep too."
---
Darren, of course, had no idea what had happened that night.
But he suspected they had gone to Dumbledore to see his mories.
Because the next day, they treated him like a helpless child.
They insisted on feeding him.
They followed him everywhere.
When he went to the toilet, they even waited outside the door.
Darren genuinely worried that they would start listening in next.
Fortunately, this strange treatnt only lasted two days.
Snape put an end to it.
He accused them of being insane.
Not only did Gryffindor lose points, but Snape also threatened to report them to Professor McGonagall for obscene stalking.
After noticing that Snape was watching their every move, the group finally began behaving normally.
Darren felt much more comfortable.
---
Thursday
Slytherin and Gryffindor had Defense Against the Dark Arts together.
It was their first class of the sester.
Many students were excited.
Moody had already turned Malfoy into a ferret once, and everyone had witnessed his power.
He was also a famous retired Auror—ruthless against Dark Wizards.
Many Death Eaters in Azkaban considered him their personal nightmare.
Moody never ate or drank anything from outside sources.
He only trusted what he carried with him.
He feared poison.
During the sumr, he had even believed soone planted a bomb in his dustbin.
Mr. Weasley had rushed to deal with it…
Only to find out it was just a cat.
Moody was paranoid.
But he was powerful.
No one doubted that.
As soon as class began, Moody growled:
"I ca here at Dumbledore's request to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts for one year."
"During the sumr, Remus Lupin wrote to ."
"He said you've learned about Red Caps, Grindylows, Hinkypunks—"
"Good."
"But this year…"
"I'll teach you how to deal with Dark Magic."
"Real Dark Magic."
---
"But…" Darren said hesitantly,
"Dark magic can corrupt the mind…"
Moody's expression softened.
Just slightly.
It almost looked like a smile—if you ignored how terrifying it still was.
His voice lowered.
As though afraid to frighten Darren.
"Darren… I knew I would see you in my class."
"But you're too gentle."
"Have you forgotten what you've already faced?"
"Students must go through this."
"If they don't… then one day they'll face what you faced."
"And they will die."
He turned to the class.
"Stay alert. Always."
---
"But isn't it too early…?" Ron muttered.
The other students nodded uneasily.
None of them had expected to deal with real Dark Magic.
---
"You're the youngest Weasley, aren't you?" Moody said suddenly.
"Your father helped a great deal this sumr—"
Malfoy snorted.
Moody's magical eye snapped toward him.
"So… the little Death Eater dares to laugh?"
"Very well."
"I don't welco your kind in my classroom, Malfoy."
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