While Harry lay awake, burning with anger—
In the Forbidden Forest, Snape was roaring just as furiously.
"Dumbledore, it's an inside traitor!"
"It has to be!"
"If I find out who it is, I will kill him!"
"Yes, yes…" Dumbledore replied calmly.
"But has Darren woken up?"
Snape hesitated.
"Not yet. He may need to wait until daylight."
"My antidotes aren't working. Those were only standard antidotes for the Draught of Living Death."
"Then leave it."
"Send Darren to the school infirmary."
Dumbledore looked up at the sky.
"The atmosphere has changed."
Snape followed his gaze.
Clouds were slowly gathering across the starry sky.
---
Early the next morning, Harry and the others rushed to the school infirmary.
Madam Pomfrey tried to chase them out, but Harry stubbornly declared that if they weren't allowed to see Darren, they would sit there and keep calling his na until he woke up.
That left Madam Pomfrey with no choice.
"You lot really have a temper only Darren could tolerate," she muttered.
She finally let them in.
They hurried to Darren's bedside.
Only then did Harry truly relax.
He hadn't been able to see clearly the night before, but now it was obvious—Darren had no injuries at all.
He had only been given the Draught of Living Death.
"I really want to know who forced him to drink it," Harry said with a frown.
"Yeah, when Darren wakes up, he'll tell us," Ron said optimistically.
"Then we'll know who took Crouch!"
Hermione shook her head worriedly.
"Krum's mory was altered. Why wouldn't Darren's be altered too?"
Snap.
Applause sounded from outside the curtain.
"Miss Granger is always sharp," Dumbledore said with a smile as he walked in.
Hermione blushed slightly, but still looked puzzled.
"I suppose Miss Granger wants to ask," Dumbledore continued lightly,
"why I ca here when I know Darren can't answer questions yet?"
Hermione nodded.
Dumbledore laughed softly.
"Because there are only a few people I truly care about."
Harry and the others froze.
Then Dumbledore chuckled again.
"Just joking."
"I ca to see whether Darren left himself any hints."
"As a Potions Master, Darren should have reacted the mont he tasted the Draught of Living Death."
"I wondered whether he left so kind of mark."
Hermione's eyes lit up in sudden understanding.
At the sa ti, Darren—who had just regained consciousness—rolled his eyes internally.
He hadn't left any mark at all.
Because he rembered everything.
He knew exactly how Barty Crouch had been taken away.
He just wasn't going to say it.
Let's play along.
Darren thought carefully about how to explain things in a way that would earn Father value without ruining his image.
After thinking it through, he slowly opened his eyes.
"Oh, Darren," Dumbledore said warmly,
"we've been waiting a long ti. You're finally awake."
Darren looked dazed for a mont, then suddenly said,
"Headmaster Dumbledore, I've lost a mory."
"It's the part after my brother went to find you."
"Could you tell what happened after that?"
"It seems the Draught of Living Death didn't muddle your mind," Dumbledore said gently.
"Harry, you tell Darren what happened."
Dumbledore picked up the breakfast Madam Pomfrey had brought and placed a bowl of porridge beside Darren.
Darren took a few bites.
It tasted excellent.
Then he listened to Harry recount everything from the night before.
…Wait.
What exactly had Snape poured into him?
He rembered clearly neutralizing the Draught of Living Death that Barty Crouch had forced on him.
He was waiting to see what would happen next—
And then Snape appeared and shoved a potion down his throat.
And he slept until now.
Now Harry was saying there were several potions.
Was Snape insane?
If Darren hadn't woken up feeling refreshed, he might have suspected that Snape's past hostility had all been an act.
But—
As a proper little Holy Father,
He naturally expressed heartfelt gratitude toward Snape.
This made Harry look unconvinced.
But seeing Darren's sincere expression, he didn't correct him.
Forget it.
His foolish brother always believed everyone was a good person.
"If that's the case," Darren said slowly,
"then it really does seem like an inside traitor…"
He lowered his gaze to his hand.
Dumbledore followed his line of sight.
In the center of Darren's palm was a shallow cut.
Darren stared at it, speechless for a long ti.
He looked sad.
Confused.
Even weak.
"So, Darren?" Dumbledore prompted gently.
Darren swallowed.
"I usually compare the palm of my hand to soone I consider a friend."
"And… a cut on the palm represents a friend hurting ."
The corner of Dumbledore's mouth twitched.
"So…"
"So I only know now that the one who attacked was a friend."
"As for who it was…"
Darren raised his palm.
He stared at it blankly.
"I… I'm sorry, Headmaster Dumbledore."
"I didn't help you at all."
"It's all because I'm stupid. I always—"
[Ding, Father value 100]
[Ding, Father value 100]
[Ding, Father value 100]
［...］
Darren's eyes turned red.
He truly looked as though he regretted his actions.
As if he had gone too far.
As if he had failed everyone.
"I'm always so reckless!"
His eyes were red, and he almost instinctively reached for his wand to punish himself.
Fortunately, Dumbledore stopped him in ti.
"Oh, Darren, don't be foolish."
"Why would you think that?"
"You drank the Draught of Living Death—how could you possibly stay that clear-headed?"
"And even if you wanted to leave a na, you wouldn't have had ti."
"This is already more than enough."
Dumbledore sounded genuinely worried.
But Darren still looked angry with himself.
He stared at his palm as if he wanted to chop his own hand off.
Just as Hermione was about to speak, Darren suddenly noticed sothing beside the wound.
"…This is pumpkin juice."
He murmured.
Then he looked up at Dumbledore in surprise.
"That person drank pumpkin juice with ."
"It should've been around ten o'clock at night."
"So either it ca from the kitchens or it was bought outside."
"Headmaster—can you investigate from that angle?"
[Ding, Father value 100]
[Ding, Father value 100]
[Ding, Father value 100]
[Ding…］
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