Chapter 625: That's Enough, Harry!!
"Hugh!"
Harry was just about to hand the crystal ball to the wizard when he heard Darren shout.
In the next instant, Darren suddenly grabbed the Death Eater, lifted him up, and hurled him straight into the middle of the chaotic battle between the Order of the Phoenix and the Death Eaters.
Harry laughed out loud in relief.
He rushed forward and grabbed Darren, wanting to pull him toward Sirius and show him—
But when he turned his head, his smile froze.
Sirius Black had been struck by a red curse.
His body tilted backward and fell straight toward the Veil.
Harry ran toward Sirius in panic.
But he felt himself losing his grip.
The Veil seemed alive—pulling at them, dragging them all toward it.
"Brother!"
Darren suddenly seized Harry's hand.
The pressure instantly eased.
Harry had just managed to catch his breath when he heard the whispers again.
He saw shadows moving behind the Veil.
Instinctively, he turned his head away.
The pull suddenly intensified.
Harry looked back in horror.
Sirius was slipping.
"Darren—do something!"
Harry cried out desperately and looked back—
And then he felt himself and Sirius lift into the air.
It was Darren.
Darren threw them both away from the Veil, then used his own body to shove them even farther.
The pulling force vanished.
Harry was suspended in midair for a second, then fell heavily to the ground.
He laughed breathlessly.
"Darren, you're amazing—"
His words died in his throat.
Darren's head was tilted, as if he were smiling.
But his body was still, drifting sideways in slow motion.
Suddenly—
That smile froze.
Harry hit the ground.
And behind him, Darren fell straight through the Veil.
Everything seemed to slow down.
Harry heard Hermione scream, "No!"
He heard Ginny and Neville cry out.
Someone gasped sharply.
Then Lupin's broken voice rang out:
"Harry, don't—don't struggle, don't go there… he's dead!"
Dead?
Harry stared blankly at the Veil.
He lunged toward it.
Darren was there.
He could pull him back.
Darren couldn't see—he must have been terrified when he fell!
"Harry, calm down! He's already—let's go… no one can bring him back. He did this for you. Don't waste his life!"
Harry refused to listen.
"Darren! Darren!"
He could still see that smile.
Still feel the force of Darren throwing him away.
How could he be gone?
It was just the Veil—how could that mean death?
"Let me go! I'll pull him back, I'll bring him back!"
He roared, struggling violently.
He looked at Hermione, at the others, as if begging them to give him courage.
But he heard Hermione whisper, in the same calm tone Darren always used:
"You can't bring him back. He's gone. Professor Victor said it—if he fell into the Veil… I thought… anyway…"
Harry's head snapped up.
"Don't you like him? Don't you love him? Then why don't you go after him?"
The words burst out of him.
At that moment, he finally understood why he had always felt like an outsider between Darren and Hermione.
Hermione looked at him coldly.
"It was you," she said.
"You killed him."
"He said he didn't want to come. He said he felt uneasy. He said it was a trap—but did you listen?"
"You snapped at him again and again. If it weren't for Sirius Black, i would have knocked you out long ago."
Her voice was full of contempt.
Harry glared at her.
She didn't look away.
He did.
He stopped looking at anyone and suddenly rushed toward the Veil again.
"Lupin, let me go. I'm calm now," he said hoarsely.
"I know Darren might be angry with me, but I'll bring him back. He can't see—I can't just—"
His words stopped.
Because he saw Dumbledore.
Dumbledore had arrived.
In that instant, Harry felt as if warmth and safety flooded his entire body.
He staggered toward him and grabbed his robes.
Begging.
Dumbledore gently but firmly pushed him away.
"Harry," he said softly, "I can't."
Harry stared at him in disbelief and tried to grab him again.
"I'm sorry," Dumbledore repeated.
At that moment, Sirius struggled to his feet.
He looked around, still dazed, unable to understand what had happened.
"Get the prophecy!"
A Death Eater shouted.
"The Dark Lord wants the prophecy!"
Harry suddenly stopped.
He looked down at the crystal ball still clutched in his hand.
The one he had protected even when Darren threw him away.
Slowly, he raised it.
Then he smashed it onto the floor.
The crystal shattered.
Screams erupted—rage, despair, curses—but Harry didn't care.
He stared coldly at the shimmering figure rising from the broken prophecy, its voice drowned out by the chaos.
Then someone screamed a spell—
"Crucio!"
The curse shot toward Harry.
He didn't dodge.
He almost hoped the pain would erase everything.
But Dumbledore intercepted it.
Harry looked at him with hatred.
At that moment, he hated everyone.
Then his eyes locked onto Bellatrix Lestrange.
She was the one.
The one who had struck Sirius.
The one who made Darren fall.
Harry raised his wand and charged.
"Harry!"
Someone shouted.
He didn't hear them.
"Crucio!"
Bellatrix collapsed, screaming, writhing in agony.
Harry watched her without mercy.
"Enough, Harry," Sirius shouted desperately.
"Stop—Darren wouldn't want you to use that spell!"
"Then what spell did he want me to use?" Harry roared.
"You jumped out and scolded me—he didn't!"
The words tore out of him.
Hermione's accusations echoed in his mind.
He hadn't said a single kind word to Darren all day.
Every time Darren tried to speak, he cut him off.
Darren said he felt uneasy—but Harry thought he didn't care about Sirius.
Harry's entire body shook.
He broke free from Sirius's grip and looked at everyone as if they were strangers.
"All this time, I only had Darren," he said hoarsely.
"He said he wouldn't die. He said he wouldn't leave me."
His scar burned violently.
But he barely noticed.
Even if Voldemort appeared in front of him now—
He didn't care anymore.