Harry had thought that Professor McGonagall wanted him to tell Darren that he still had to go back to Umbridge's class.
But Professor McGonagall said firmly,
"You go and tell Darren—he doesn't need to attend anymore. His O.W.L. in Defense Against the Dark Arts will definitely be a full score."
Harry froze.
With a trace of hope, he asked, "Professor… then what about ?"
"You still have to attend," Professor McGonagall said calmly.
"And Umbridge wrote here that you are to go to her office this week for detention."
"Don't ask why you can't skip her class. It's because you can't guarantee a full score."
"If you could get a full score, I would absolutely help you apply to be exempted from her course."
"I don't want my students punished by her either, but you are still her student, and she has the authority to punish you."
"Go. Hurry and find Darren. Where could he have gone at a ti like this?"
Professor McGonagall's voice carried real concern.
Harry nodded, feeling utterly miserable.
He had rushed out just like Darren—and ended up with a whole week of detention.
But at the sa ti, he felt a little relieved.
At least Darren wouldn't have to go back to Umbridge's Defense Against the Dark Arts class.
Harry was certain that if Darren showed up in Umbridge's classroom again, she would definitely take revenge on him.
The real problem now was—where had Darren gone?
Harry searched the castle again and again.
It wasn't until dinner that he finally saw him.
Darren looked pale.
When he entered the Great Hall, he didn't go to the Slytherin table. Instead, he walked straight over to Gryffindor, looked at Harry, and said,
"Brother, I went to Umbridge. She promised she'd cancel your punishnt and detention."
"From now on, just attend her class properly and don't provoke her again."
[Ding, Father 100]
[Ding, Father 100]
[Ding, Father 100]
[Ding…]
"What?" Harry said in disbelief.
"You went to Umbridge?!"
He stared at Darren's pale face, clenched his fists, and shouted,
"Tell —did you beg her?!"
Harry was furious.
He almost wanted to grab Darren and shake him.
Why was he so stupid?
He went to beg that woman, just so Harry wouldn't be put in detention?
What kind of humiliation was that?
"It's fine. I didn't lose anything," Darren said gently.
"Oh, right—I'm heading back to Slytherin. Don't wait for later, I still have Professor Snape's detention."
A faint smile appeared on Darren's face.
Then he turned and walked toward the Slytherin table.
He had gone to Umbridge.
But he hadn't begged her.
He had threatened her.
Even with Umbridge's delusions about him, Darren had cornered her thoroughly.
He threatened her with evidence of her corruption.
It scared her badly.
He even forced her to write lines like I am corrupt and I am not a good person.
From the end of class until now, Umbridge had been completely exhausted by him.
Before leaving, Darren erased her mory.
He implanted new mories—mories of how much the "little Holy Father" had suffered for Harry.
He made Umbridge believe that the torture had all been carried out secretly.
And that Darren, for Harry's sake, had agreed to erase those mories before leaving.
This made Umbridge oddly satisfied—she was still smiling in her office.
A complete performance, start to finish.
When Darren walked out, his face was pale.
There were no wounds on his body.
But anyone who looked at his complexion couldn't help but feel worried.
While eating at the Slytherin table, Darren also received a bottle of healing potion that Malfoy tossed at him.
Of course, Malfoy's excuse was that he had picked it up and was going to throw it away anyway, but Darren looked too pitiful, so he gave it to him.
Darren refused the potion seriously.
"Although I don't rember what happened inside," he said calmly,
"I checked. There are no injuries on my body."
[Ding, Father 100]
[Ding, Father 100]
[Ding, Father 100]
[Ding…]
"You lost your mory again?"
Malfoy stared at him sharply.
Darren nodded.
Malfoy ground his teeth.
He snapped,
"Scarhead is worth you doing sothing this stupid? When you lose your life soday, you'll finally get so peace!"
Darren didn't respond.
He just lowered his head and continued eating.
That only made Malfoy angrier.
He didn't know what to do with him anymore.
He had scolded him, mocked him, even spoken in that sarcastic way—but Darren was completely impervious.
Instead, Malfoy himself felt more and more defeated watching Darren's stupidity.
"If it weren't for—"
Malfoy stopped abruptly.
"I don't care about you!"
Harry sat at the Gryffindor table in pain.
He stared at Darren's back, tears almost spilling over.
He had no idea what kind of torture Darren had gone through.
All he knew was that Darren had co back pale.
He didn't ask anything.
Because he was afraid that asking would make him want to leave everything behind again.
And the looks from the surrounding students only made things worse.
Disapproval. Disgust.
They whispered about that night, questioned him, asked for confirmation.
As if they wanted him to explode—so they could squeeze more "inside information" out of him.
Harry shouted angrily,
"They all know what happened that night! So why do they still look at like this?!"
Hermione spoke quietly beside him.
"From their perspective…"
"You grabbed the Triwizard Cup and disappeared. A man calling himself Voldemort appeared. Darren fought him…"
"It sounds like a farce."
"In the end, you ca back with Cedric's father's body. We even thought it was just part of the competition."
"You won the Cup. You ca back with the 'spoils.'"
"They didn't know the truth until Dumbledore announced it."
"That's how Ron and I felt. And for everyone else, it's even stranger."
"Harry, you've never been able to accept this—but Darren understood it long ago."
"That's why he refuses to show weakness now."
"He knows very clearly that at this mont, every word he says, every expression he shows, becos part of how they judge you."
"Do you really not understand why—even if Darren suppresses himself to the point of collapse—he still has to stay calm in front of others?"
"He just doesn't want people to think he's unstable. Or insane."
"Only if he looks normal will people start questioning whether the events of that night were real."
"And today's Defense Against the Dark Arts class—don't you understand what he was trying to do?"
"You followed him without thinking. You rushed out."
"And you destroyed the situation he had carefully created."
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