Chapter 441: You Are Angry!!
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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 something 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 blame him at all.
He felt no anger toward him, not even a trace of resentment.
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 time, 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 me these memories 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 memories."
"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—something terrible, yes—but within what his mind could bear.
I wanted to use his memory to find clues… to identify the crimes of those people."
He sighed.
"Harry, I am not a god. I am not Merlin."
"I'm just an ordinary… albeit slightly magical old man.
You may think I see everything, know everything—but I don't.
And this time… 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 memories 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 me 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 memories.
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 treatment 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 semester.
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 summer, he had even believed someone 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 came here at Dumbledore's request to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts for one year."
"During the summer, Remus Lupin wrote to me."
"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."
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"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 me a great deal this summer—"
Malfoy snorted.
Moody's magical eye snapped toward him.
"So… the little Death Eater dares to laugh?"
"Very well."
"I don't welcome your kind in my classroom, Malfoy."