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Chapter 382 – Hagrid's Defeat
"I'm afraid I must do something rather cruel today."
Fudge sighed dramatically.
"They've asked for a witness while they execute a winged beast—a hippogriff. I originally came to Hogwarts because of Black's case, but then this matter fell into my hands as well."
His tone was filled with regret.
His eyes were not.
Darren failed to notice the emptiness behind the words.
He stepped forward anxiously.
"But… there's still a trial, right? As long as the prosecution succeeds, Buckbeak won't be sentenced to death, will he?"
[Ding, Holy Father Value +15]
[Ding, Holy Father Value +100]
[Ding, Holy Father Value +100]
Darren noticed it at once.
Fudge had given him almost nothing in return.
He pouted slightly, then looked up with innocent confusion, eyes full of expectation.
Fudge studied him briefly, then smiled—slow and thin.
"Well, Darren… many things in life don't go as we hope."
"Of course, the appeal will be heard."
Hope flashed across Darren's face.
Excitement burst from him.
"I'll take part in Buckbeak's trial too! I've gathered so much information—I'm sure I can prove his innocence!"
"Minister, do you know when the hearing is this afternoon? Hagrid said he wasn't sure. He only knew it would be today."
He leaned forward, desperate.
Fudge raised an eyebrow.
"You really prepared that much?"
"Do you honestly think you can save that hippogriff?"
Darren nodded hard.
"I found a regulation from three years ago. The Ministry ruled that—"
He launched into his explanation, passionate and precise.
Harry's heart leapt.
This law might actually save Buckbeak.
"I'll use this at the hearing," Darren finished earnestly.
"I won't let Buckbeak die."
"So, Minister… what time is the trial?"
[Ding, Holy Father Value +5]
[Ding, Holy Father Value +100]
[Ding, Holy Father Value +100]
Fudge smiled wider.
And Darren caught the faintest glint of triumph in his eyes.
"As far as I recall…"
"Three-thirty in the afternoon."
A lie.
Blatant.
The real time was two o'clock.
An extra hour and a half—just enough to ruin everything.
If Darren had truly been an ordinary boy—
He would have arrived too late and watched Buckbeak die.
But he wasn't.
Fudge could change schedules.
Manipulate words.
Rewrite rules if he wished.
But Dumbledore would never allow Buckbeak's execution to stand.
And Darren?
He already knew how this story ended.
A Time-Turner.
A rescue.
A perfect stage for… Holy Father points.
Two birds with one stone.
Darren nearly laughed.
But he suppressed it.
Instead, he lifted his eyes to Fudge—pleading, hopeful, fragile.
Fudge laughed lightly.
Then turned away.
---
In truth, even if the hearing were at two—
Darren couldn't go.
Because he had one final exam:
Divination.
Ironically, Divination was the one class he had not dropped.
After all—
Besides Hagrid—
What subject was easier to fake than prophecy?
Predict your own doom.
Say something tragic.
Watch Trelawney cry in admiration.
It had worked every time.
And it worked again.
The moment Darren entered, Trelawney seized his crystal ball.
Fog churned inside.
Darren stared long and hard.
Then spoke softly:
"Tonight… I will be hospitalized."
"I don't know why."
"But there will be blood."
"I just hope… I can see you again tomorrow, Professor."
Trelawney nearly fainted.
"Oh, Darren! You have the Sight! A true gift!"
"I do hope you choose Divination again next year!"
Darren nodded firmly.
Of course he would.
It was the most effortless credit in the school.
---
When he finally left the classroom—
Harry was waiting outside.
So were Ron and Hermione.
Their faces were pale.
Tight.
Broken.
The moment they saw him, they froze.
Darren blinked.
Then forced panic into his voice.
"What's wrong?"
"Brother, let's hurry to Hagrid! I still have to help with Buckbeak's appeal! I won't let him die!"
Harry's eyes brimmed instantly.
Darren stepped back in shock.
"Who hurt you?"
"And Hermione… Ron… why are you crying?"
"Did you fail the exam?"
"It's okay, I'll tutor you—next year will be—"
[Ding, Holy Father Value +100]
[Ding, Holy Father Value +100]
[Ding, Holy Father Value +100]
Ron took a shaky breath.
"Darren… we need to tell you something."
"Please… don't get upset."
Harry closed his eyes.
"…Buckbeak lost."
"Hagrid lost."
Darren froze.
His pupils shrank.
"…What?"
"But—it isn't three-thirty yet," he whispered.
"It's only three."
"How could the case be over—"
Hermione trembled as she held out a letter.
"Darren…"
"Fudge lied."
"The trial was at two."
"This is Hagrid's message."
Darren took the parchment.
His hands shook as he read:
> You are no longer needed.
The appeal has failed.
The execution will take place at sunset.
I didn't want you to see this.
"No…"
His breath hitched.
"No—no—that's impossible."
"He told me three-thirty."
"Why would he say—why would he lie—why—"
[Ding, Holy Father Value +100]
[Ding, Holy Father Value +100]
[Ding, Holy Father Value +100]
Darren looked at Harry in disbelief.
Harry opened his mouth—
Then closed it again.
He knew.
But he couldn't say it.
Because if he did—
Darren would blame himself.
So Harry swallowed the truth and whispered:
"…Maybe the Minister… just remembered wrong."