Chapter 592: Darren's Innocence!!
Darren felt extremely innocent.
Because it wasn't that he wanted Dumbledore to see those cruel scenes—it was the system that kept jumping out, forcing him to falsify his memories.
Dumbledore's inner struggle and the pain he felt had nothing to do with him.
At least, that was what Darren believed.
So once again, he fabricated a series of memories.
The boy begged everyone to save Harry when he fell from his broom.
The boy stood in front of Hermione, facing the troll alone.
The boy raised his wand and cast the Patronus Charm—not by recalling happy memories, but simply because he wanted to protect everyone.
The boy discovered that he had been thrown into the Triwizard Tournament by Cedric, and instead of anger, he looked at Cedric with concern, afraid that Cedric would be used as a pawn.
The boy stood at Mr. Diggory's funeral, crushed by guilt. For a moment, he even lost the will to live.
The boy…
Dumbledore once again withdrew from the Legilimency on his own initiative.
He said solemnly, "Darren, you didn't block me deliberately. I ran freely through your memories—you didn't intend to stop me."
Darren covered his face.
He whispered, "I can't be on guard against you at all…"
[Ding, Father +100]
Dumbledore fell silent, his voice turning hoarse.
"That you can't guard yourself against anyone, my child, is not a good thing. With such a temperament, you may very well die because of it. Perhaps I must teach you a lesson."
Dumbledore spoke gently. Darren looked at him suspiciously.
A lesson?
Did he really need to be taught a lesson, as some so-called little Holy Father? Surely not.
Seeing the doubt in his eyes, Dumbledore smiled slyly.
"I can't tell you that. Well—lessons often come from the unknown. Perhaps I might even die because I trusted the wrong person."
Dumbledore said this with a smile, but Darren froze.
Did Dumbledore mean that next year he intended to let Snape kill him?
But… that didn't seem right.
Dumbledore now had a wife, and his sister's soul was still there. There was no need for him to walk straight into death, was there?
Darren felt that Dumbledore wasn't at an age where dying was inevitable.
Yet at the same time, he also felt that if Dumbledore didn't die, there would be no way to stop Harry at King's Cross Station and let him walk on.
So… did Dumbledore still have to die?
Darren thought so.
But he always felt that this time, Dumbledore shouldn't die so easily. Hopefully, Dumbledore had found a better solution.
After all, ever since learning that Ariana was all right, Dumbledore's spirits had noticeably improved. He even seemed more motivated.
To have him actively choose death now would be foolish—and Dumbledore was anything but foolish.
In the end, that was something Dumbledore and Grindelwald would have to figure out themselves.
As for Darren, he had no intention of interfering. Of course, he would still honestly follow the overall flow of events.
"Darren?"
Dumbledore's call pulled him back to reality.
"Did I scare you? There will always be a lesson waiting for you. I think you still haven't truly learned from that betrayal in your second year."
Dumbledore said sternly.
Darren smiled awkwardly.
That smile dissolved much of Dumbledore's anger.
"Enough of that. Let's try again. Gather your thoughts and prepare to defend your mind."
[Ding, sensing that the host is being subjected to Legilimency. Should the memories be falsified?]
Darren frowned.
He felt that this time, he shouldn't let Dumbledore see everything. He needed to block part of it.
Otherwise, Dumbledore might start to suspect something.
So he recalled how, in the original story, Harry had desperately tried to prevent Snape from seeing certain memories—and deliberately set those memories aside.
Then—
The boy watched as a green light struck Mr. Diggory. He cried out in agony.
The boy saw the members of the DA improving faster and faster. He stayed up late into the night, forging enchanted Galleons for communication.
The boy saw the words carved clearly on the back of Harry's raised hand: I must not tell lies.
The boy was stunned, and was kissed by cho—Cho's damp lips brushing against his own…
Darren's expression turned panicked.
He collapsed to the floor, gasping for breath. Dumbledore quickly helped him sit in the headmaster's chair.
With a hint of interest, he said, "So… you're in love?"
"No, no," Darren said hurriedly. "I can't waste someone else's feelings. I don't have the heart to think about such things now. I could die at any time—why make others suffer?"
"I watched Mr. Diggory die right in front of me. I couldn't sleep for a long time after that. If it were the death of someone I loved… for them, it would be unbearable."
[Ding, Holy Father value +100]
Dumbledore's voice softened.
In the end, he took out some chocolate.
"Eat this. You'll feel better."
Darren accepted the chocolate and ate it slowly.
After that, Dumbledore handed him a glass of lemon water. Darren raised it and took a sip.
He frowned slightly.
Because the cup contained Snape's Draught of Living Death—an improved version.
One sip was enough, and…
Darren narrowed his eyes. Just before consciousness slipped away, he heard Dumbledore say gently, "Sleep, child. You're exhausted. Everything will be fine here."
While Darren rested in warmth and safety, things were chaos on the other side.
Snape despised Harry.
Harry despised Snape even more.
What angered Harry the most was that Snape kept intruding into his memories, replaying everything from his confrontation with Voldemort onward, calling him reckless, arrogant, and cowardly.
Yet Harry gained something from their Occlumency practice.
He suddenly realized that the corridor he dreamed of every night was the very path he had taken with Mr. Weasley to the Ministry of Magic.
It led to the Department of Mysteries.
It was also where Mr. Weasley had been bitten by the snake.
He told Snape about it, wanting to see his reaction.
But Snape only warned him not to inquire about the Department of Mysteries—and not to speak Voldemort's name.
He even sneered that Harry and his foolish brother were idiots.
Harry glared at Snape furiously, but there was nothing he could do.
As he slammed the door and stormed out, he heard Snape say mockingly, "I expect you here again at the same time on Wednesday afternoon."
"Understood!"
Harry snapped back.
The moment he rushed out of Snape's office, he suddenly paused and looked back.
Snape was staring at him with undisguised disgust.
Snape hated him.
Or perhaps he hated him because of his father.
Harry thought so instinctively.
After all, that expression had been there from the moment he first entered Hogwarts—and it had never changed.
Fine. Let it stay that way.