Chapter 555 — Scars Hurt!!
A thought suddenly struck Harry.
He finally understood why Ron was holding a broomstick.
Wood had graduated last year, which meant the Gryffindor team had lost its Keeper. And that afternoon, Angelina had been testing students who wanted to try out for the position.
So…
"Yes… just like you're thinking," Ron said awkwardly. "I want to try. It's… it's kind of embarrassing. I probably won't make it…"
"Nope!"
Harry looked straight at Ron and patted him firmly on the shoulder.
"I believe in you. You'll definitely be able to do it."
"I've always said your broom control is excellent. And all three of your brothers are great Quidditch players!"
Harry was genuinely happy.
When Ron saw Harry's reaction, the tension on his face finally eased.
Harry wasn't the only one clearly hiding things from everyone…
Another Friday arrived.
Harry glanced at the spot where Hagrid usually sat, his heart heavy with worry. Hagrid still hadn't returned.
Harry didn't even know whether Hagrid was safe.
That evening, Harry entered Umbridge's office once again.
Through the office window, he glanced toward the Quidditch pitch.
He wanted to see Ron.
But there were too many figures moving around, and he couldn't tell which one was Ron.
Even so, it was still better than sitting here doing nothing, watching himself bleed.
Harry wondered how Ron's tryout was going.
Then his thoughts drifted to Darren.
Something had been off with Darren lately.
Darren had been leaving Snape's office earlier and earlier, yet the exhaustion on his face had only deepened. His self-doubt had grown more obvious.
Several times, Harry had even heard Darren murmuring to himself, as if convincing himself that Snape wasn't that kind of person.
Thinking about it now, Harry felt he might understand part of it.
Darren had told him before that Snape spoke badly about Dumbledore.
But didn't Harry think that was normal?
Snape had always disliked him. Saying unpleasant things was practically routine. And Snape had once openly opposed Dumbledore in front of Fudge.
Complaining about Dumbledore giving others special privileges wasn't strange either.
Hadn't Darren always thought this sort of thing was normal before?
So why was he suddenly troubled by it?
Harry didn't understand, but he knew this was something he needed to ask Darren about sooner rather than later.
No matter what, letting Darren continue like this made Harry uneasy.
As these thoughts ran through his mind, Harry continued writing with the quill:
I will not lie again.
I will not lie again.
I will not lie again.
The parchment was stained red with the blood seeping from the back of his hand.
Half an hour later, Umbridge finally walked up behind him.
"Let me see… have you truly understood the meaning of this sentence?"
She pressed Harry's hand down onto the wound.
Then she deliberately tugged at the fresh scratches.
"Hiss—"
Harry couldn't help making a sound.
It wasn't that Umbridge's touch alone hurt.
It was the sudden surge of searing pain after her hand lifted away.
Just like every time Voldemort drew near.
"It hurts?" Umbridge said smugly. "It seems this lesson has been quite profound!"
She laughed, clearly believing Harry had finally given in.
"Very good. Mr. Potter, it seems today's punishment can come to an end. I believe I've taught you a very valuable lesson."
Laughing, Umbridge stepped aside and cleared a path.
Harry walked past her without a word.
He pretended nothing was wrong.
In truth, his nerves were stretched tight.
Umbridge… could she be a Death Eater in disguise?
Keeping his face stiff, he walked all the way to the Fat Lady's portrait.
"Mimbulus mimbletonia."
The portrait swung open, and he entered the common room.
The room was lively and noisy.
Harry immediately saw Ron, laughing and holding up a glass of butterbeer. The moment Ron spotted him, he shoved a bottle into Harry's hands.
"I made it! I really made it, Harry! I'm the Gryffindor Keeper!"
Ron shouted.
Harry suppressed the tension in his chest and congratulated him.
Then he asked anxiously, "Where are Darren and Hermione?"
"Over there!"
Fred pointed toward the fireplace.
Darren was slumped over the table, a cup of butterbeer still in his hand, completely asleep.
Hermione was carefully easing the cup from his fingers and draping a robe over his shoulders.
She whispered, "When Ron said he'd passed the tryouts, everyone got too excited. Fred and the others brought out butterbeer, and Darren ended up drinking too much…"
"But he's really exhausted."
"Yeah," Fred said quietly. "The dark circles under his eyes are terrible. We don't even know how long it's been since he slept properly."
George nodded in agreement.
Hermione sighed.
"So I didn't stop it. I thought letting him fall asleep like this was better than forcing him to stay awake."
"But he doesn't drink anything else!"
"We even offered him Skiving Snackboxes," Fred said defensively. "He took one look and exposed it!"
Fred and George sounded frustrated.
"I told you not to give those tricks of yours to other people," Hermione snapped. "What if someone gets hurt?"
"We've tested them on ourselves loads of times—there's absolutely no problem!" George protested. "And we just wanted Darren's opinion!"
"Exactly! Darren said our ideas were great, but he didn't want to pass out, so he refused the sweets," Fred added.
Hermione glared at them.
"If you don't listen to me, I'm telling Mrs. Weasley."
That threat worked immediately.
"Alright, alright…"
Fred and George quickly pushed Hermione toward Darren.
"Stop staring at us. Look after your Darren—there are already girls eyeing him!"
Hermione stiffened and turned around.
Sure enough, a few girls had started drifting toward Darren, clearly hoping to sit with him.
Hermione walked over at once, face expressionless, and sat down beside Darren.
The girls left in embarrassment.
Harry watched the whole thing while rubbing his temples.
He grabbed Ron and whispered, "When Darren wakes up, I need to tell you both something—something important."