Fred and George managed to persuade Darren.
After that, they turned to bombard Harry instead, then hurried off toward lunch.
What they were about to do was never ant to drag Darren into it. As for Harry, they could only force Darren away from him for now.
They headed toward the Great Hall.
But near the entrance, they ran into Phelps.
Phelps was clearly a mber of the Inquisitorial Squad.
He looked at Darren with open malice and said,
"Co with , Potter. The Headmistress wants to see you."
Harry and the others turned pale.
For a mont, they thought Fred and George's plan had already been exposed.
Harry grabbed Darren and shouted angrily at Phelps,
"It wasn't Darren who did it!"
"Before I even say anything, you already feel guilty, don't you?"
Phelps said smugly.
Darren shook his head.
He looked at Harry and smiled.
"It's fine, brother. I really didn't do anything."
Only then did Harry rember—Fred and George hadn't done anything yet. And even if they had, it had nothing to do with Darren.
He slowly let go.
Darren followed Phelps away.
Along the way, Phelps wore a triumphant expression, as if Darren's retribution was finally at hand.
Of course, Darren knew exactly what was waiting for him.
Sure enough, when he arrived at Umbridge's office, he was greeted by her malicious smile.
She put on a falsely gentle expression and asked,
"What would you like to drink, Darren Porter? Tea? Lemon juice? Fruit juice?"
"Lemon juice,"
Darren replied with a smile.
Umbridge flicked her wand, and two glasses of lemon juice appeared.
One of them floated over and stopped in front of Darren.
Umbridge picked up her own glass, took a sip, then stared at him.
Darren also picked up his glass and pretended to take a sip. He wasn't about to actually drink it—who knew whether Umbridge might have spat in it? He had no faith at all in her self-control.
Umbridge's smile grew wider.
Suddenly, she asked,
"Darren Porter, what exactly did you do to in this office before?"
"…?"
Ah. So the old toad had been left with psychological trauma.
Darren answered calmly, without the slightest attempt to hide it,
"I tortured you. Very thoroughly. And then I used Obliviate on you—every single ti."
"Every single ti?!"
Umbridge shrieked.
Darren tilted his head slightly, as if dazed, and nodded.
"Of course. I quite like it when you drag away, threaten to torture —and then end up being tortured by instead."
Umbridge's face turned a deep, livid purple. But she forced herself to endure it.
She clenched her teeth and asked,
"Where is Dumbledore?"
"Dumbledore is in Nurngard,"
Darren replied in the sa hazy tone,
"Keeping his old lover, Grindelwald, company."
Umbridge's eyes lit up instantly.
"Are you sure? How do you know that?"
"Because I'm their child."
"What?! Darren Porter, do you think I'm drunk on lemon juice? Drink another sip!"
Darren obediently pretended to take another sip.
Umbridge pressed on eagerly,
"How do you know they're lovers?"
"Rowling wrote a book about it and told ."
"Who is Rowling? Where does she live? Tell at once—I must arrest her!"
"I don't know where she lives. I read pirated copies of her books. Lots of people read them. She also wrote about Fantastic Beasts… and even wrote about your ending."
"My ending?"
Umbridge frowned.
Darren burst out laughing.
"After Voldemort falls, you go to Azkaban."
Umbridge stared at him as if he were a madman.
Then she suddenly asked,
"You didn't drink the lemon juice at all, did you?"
"Yes,"
Darren nodded honestly.
Umbridge staggered, nearly losing her balance.
She looked at Darren in horror.
"You… what are you going to do?"
"Didn't you bring here yourself?" Darren said lightly.
"I'm cooperating very well. I answer whatever you ask. Isn't that cooperation?"
Umbridge glared at him.
At this mont, she truly wanted to kill Darren—if only she could.
But she couldn't.
She could only hear him sigh and say,
"Looks like I'll have to use Obliviate on you again. Maybe the torture last ti was too harsh—you always leave a bit of fear behind."
"I really hoped you'd be happier this ti. That you'd lower your guard, treat like a little Holy Father."
"But you just won't."
Umbridge stared at him, terror written all over her face.
"You're not human!"
"Nonsense. Of course I am,"
Darren corrected her indignantly.
Then that familiar sensation struck her consciousness once more.
Everything went blank.
Bang!
A loud crash shook the floor.
Umbridge swayed, dazed, staring at Darren, who also appeared montarily unfocused.
She rembered forcing Darren to drink a glass of lemon juice in her office.
She rembered pressing him about Dumbledore.
She rembered using countless torture spells on him.
She rembered—
No.
Umbridge scread.
Sothing was wrong.
Her mories insisted she had tortured Darren… but her reason told her she hadn't.
In a panic, she lunged forward, grabbing Darren's clothes, desperately checking his body to see where she had tortured him.
Darren was completely unguarded.
And at that exact mont, Malfoy burst into Umbridge's office.
He walked in just in ti to see Umbridge tearing at Darren's clothes.
He let out a horrified scream.
Only then did Umbridge seem to co to her senses.
She looked up at Malfoy in shock, wanting to wipe his mory imdiately—
But it was too late.
Harry rushed in right after him.
He stared at Umbridge in disbelief.
"You—what did you do?! Disgusting!"
Harry rushed to Darren's side, only to find him staring blankly ahead, as if unconscious.
In an instant, Harry understood everything.
He saw the glass of lemon juice on the table, rembered Darren's strange reaction, and his anger exploded.
"So that's it! You deliberately gave Darren sothing, then did this to him! No wonder you wanted to erase his mory, you—you—!"
He took several deep breaths, unable to even finish the sentence.
His hands clenched tightly around the cup.
Umbridge looked as if she'd been grievously insulted.
"I didn't! It was him—it was him!"
She pointed at Darren, but Darren remained dazed and unresponsive.
She clutched her head.
Her mories were in complete chaos.
Just as Umbridge was about to scream again, her mind jolted—and she abruptly cald down.
She waved her wand, and the lemon juice in Harry's hand vanished.
The evidence was gone.
At that mont, Phelps burst in from outside, shouting in panic,
"Headmistress! Soone's going to blow up the school!"
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