Chapter 596: Doubts About Snape!!
Harry complained bitterly after another Occlumency lesson, before Dumbledore had even returned.
"I can feel Voldemort's emotions even more clearly than before," he said irritably. "I keep dreaming about that door. I even… look forward to opening it."
His words made Hermione snap.
"You must work harder," she said sharply. "Dumbledore and Darren both expect you to close your mind. You can't go on feeling the emotions of the Dark Lord!"
"I have tried," Harry shot back angrily. "But it feels like Snape's making me even more sensitive!"
Ron and Hermione frowned and fell silent.
After a moment, Ron spoke hesitantly.
"Is it possible… that Snape's actually messing with Harry's head?"
Harry and Hermione stared at him in shock.
Ron hurried on, "Think about it. Darren learned Occlumency from Dumbledore. Even if it wasn't perfect, it never caused this kind of problem. Every time Darren came back, he looked more energetic.
"But Harry—you know how it is. Darren hardly ever wants to go to Snape's office anymore. You've heard what he said. He used to talk about doing homework there, but now he barely mentions anything.
"He even thinks he's exhausted because he isn't sleeping well—but Dumbledore made sure he rested properly. And yet he still doesn't want to go. And let's not forget—Snape was a Death Eater."
"That's enough, Ron," Hermione interrupted quickly. "You're just guessing. Dumbledore clearly knows far more than we do."
"He must have his own arrangements with Snape. It's normal that he doesn't tell us everything. Don't jump to conclusions."
Even so, her expression was clearly tense. She was just forcing herself to stay calm.
January passed quickly.
Partly because of the overwhelming amount of fifth-year homework.
Partly because Dumbledore devoted a great deal of attention to Darren, giving him a stable environment to recover and train.
And partly because of the DA.
Time slipped by almost unnoticed.
Soon, it was Valentine's Day—February 14—and the second Hogsmeade visit of the year.
None of them asked anyone else.
Darren, in fact, had been asked out by several girls.
But there were simply too many. If he agreed to even one, rumors would immediately spread that he was in a relationship, damaging his reputation.
So he declined them all, saying he already had plans with Harry and Hermione—which was true.
On February 14, Hermione received a letter, a single piece of parchment.
She was visibly delighted and insisted on taking Harry and Darren to the Three Broomsticks, saying it was good news.
Because Darren was with her, Harry noticed several girls frown and start eyeing Hermione strangely.
Some of them were clearly recalling Rita Skeeter's fourth-year article—the one claiming Hermione was playing with both of their feelings.
None of them cared.
Ron, however, was annoyed.
He wanted to come along too, but Angelina had scheduled Quidditch training that day, so he couldn't go to Hogsmeade.
He complained nonstop, until Harry—already irritated—finally snapped.
"Goodbye!"
When Harry left the castle, he said it coldly to Ron.
Honestly, he'd rather be at Quidditch practice than wandering around Hogsmeade with Darren and Hermione, feeling like a giant third wheel.
Unfortunately, his Firebolt had been confiscated.
That only made him angrier.
---
Inside the Three Broomsticks, they spotted Hagrid.
His face was covered in scars—old ones, and new ones. He was drunk.
When he saw Darren and Harry, he forced a crooked smile.
"Darren… Harry… You've got good parents," he muttered. "Me, I've got a good dad… my mum wasn't a good person. She's gone…"
"Blood matters. We're all orphans, anyway…" He rambled on incoherently.
Harry noticed the fresh scars on Hagrid's face.
He finally couldn't hold back.
"What happened to your face?"
Hagrid froze.
The alcohol seemed to drain from him instantly.
He shook his head and stood up.
"Nothing. I'm a rough sort—easy to get hurt. Take care, Darren. Harry."
He staggered away.
Harry felt uneasy watching his retreating figure.
"He's hiding something," he muttered to Darren.
"Maybe a giant," Darren said lightly. "I'm joking."
Harry stared at him in surprise, clearly not expecting Darren to crack a joke.
Darren very nearly rolled his eyes. He wasn't a machine.
But Hermione was already tugging them toward another table.
Luna Lovegood was sitting there.
And across from her sat another woman.
Rita Skeeter.
Those were the two people Hermione hated most. Harry realized it instantly.
Yet today, Hermione had deliberately arranged for them to meet. She looked a little stiff.
She shot Harry a warning look.
Harry understood—she didn't want him mentioning that he'd seen Rita Skeeter at St. Mungo's before.
Rita Skeeter glared at Hermione and said irritably,
"What do you want from me? I've already been fired. They won't even let me write for the Daily Prophet under my real name anymore."
"My last article—I had to publish it under someone else…"
Then she noticed Darren.
She gasped and immediately turned to Hermione.
"What, you want me to write a glowing hymn about Darren Potter now?"
Her quill was already scribbling furiously across the parchment.
Darren glanced at it—
Red hair, green eyes, like a stranger fallen into the wizarding world—
He snatched the quill straight out of her hand, nearly snapping it in two.
Rita screamed in horror.
"Don't break it! If you break it, you might as well kill me!"
After all—
That quill was Rita Skeeter's lifeblood.