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Chapter 192 — This Man Has a Vendetta Against Dumbledore!!
Darren really had written that note in the dormitory.
At first, Snape assumed Darren was merely upset and had gone out to cool off.
But when he didn't appear at the Slytherin table at breakfast, Snape realized something was wrong.
Harry felt his anger rise again.
Was there anything these people wouldn't do to him?
Why was Darren always the one being bullied?
"... Darren Potter really came to the Black Lake that night," the boy continued, trembling. "The Death Eaters surrounded the area. They tried to force Darren Potter to help them, but he said he'd rather die."
Harry's nails dug into his palms.
"They cast the Imperius Curse on him, told him to fetch Harry Potter… but Darren Potter broke free. Then they said they would kill him, and they ordered us to do it. They said they'd make sure none of us were blamed."
He swallowed hard.
"We… we were terrified. We hated him, sure, but killing him? No. We couldn't do it. Soren started crying and couldn't lift his wand, so they just—killed him. Right in front of us. Then… then…"
The boy looked too terrified to continue.
Snape lifted his wand, voice icy. "Perhaps you require encouragement?"
"Yes! Yes, I'll speak!"
He rushed on, words tumbling:
"After Soren was killed, Darren Potter was shocked. He'd never seen anyone die. He must've thought he was the only one who would die that night… not us."
Harry's jaw clenched so tightly it hurt.
"Darren Potter suddenly stood in front of us, trying to protect us. All his injuries came from the Death Eaters. They realized he wouldn't fight back, so they threatened him using us. They kept killing people to force him to cooperate…"
The boy's voice cracked.
"Darren Potter begged them—he knelt and begged them—to spare us. They only became more cruel. They tortured Darren Potter with Dark Magic… horrible spells…"
Harry's vision blurred with fury.
"They were enjoying it. They told Darren Potter to choose which one of us would live. He refused, so they tortured us instead, forcing him to choose. Darren Potter blocked the curses with his own body… again and again. But people kept dying. One by one."
Harry felt sick.
"Then Darren Potter finally fought back. They wanted him to—were waiting for it. But Darren Potter suddenly became stronger, far stronger than before. He pushed them back and almost captured them."
The boy hesitated.
"But Flint secretly freed the Death Eaters behind him. They turned on all of us. Almost killed everyone. Flint too. They didn't care about him at all—they just killed him. Darren Potter tried to save him and was hurt again."
The room fell dead silent.
"Finally, Darren Potter released some kind of large spell… I don't know what it was. The Death Eaters weren't injured—they just vanished. Then some of us accused Darren Potter of letting them escape on purpose. Darren Potter didn't answer. His eyes were red."
Harry's fists trembled.
"They were going to grab Darren Potter and hand him over when he fought us. The wounds we have now—Darren Potter caused them. He's not completely innocent!"
The boy ended with a burst of anger, completely blind to the absurdity of blaming the person who saved their lives.
Snape's expression turned dangerously cold.
"I find it shameful," he said softly, "that Slytherin houses students like you. Dumbledore—these children should be expelled. And I believe I have the right to recommend it."
Harry almost—almost—felt respect for Snape.
"Severus," Dumbledore said, "we will address that later. For now… we must deal with the Ministry."
He rose abruptly.
Harry blinked—why so suddenly?
At that moment, the office door burst open.
A short, round man stumbled in, red-faced and flustered. His hair was a mess, his expression panicked. His clothes looked like they came from different wardrobes: a pinstriped suit, a bright red tie, a long black cloak, and purple pointed boots. A vivid green hat was tucked under his arm.
"That's my dad's boss," Ron whispered. "Cornelius Fudge. Minister of Magic."
Fudge glanced at Ron, then plastered on a strained smile before turning to Dumbledore.
"Oh, Dumbledore—this is dreadful! Simply dreadful!"
His voice was falsely bright with concern.
"So much happening at Hogwarts—one student petrified, nine students dead, seven injured! There are nearly a thousand witches and wizards outside the Ministry demanding answers!"
He fiddled with his green hat, then stared pointedly at Dumbledore.
"I will of course provide answers… And here we have the six surviving injured students. The truth can come directly from them."
Dumbledore nodded gravely.
But Fudge's expression suddenly shifted into something sharp and sly.
"Before I arrived, I heard you brought them here… Why? Are you hiding something?" He raised his hands innocently. "Oh no, no—nothing against you, Dumbledore! Purely business, of course."
His eyes glinted.
"Such an important matter should not be questioned behind closed doors. And Lucius—ah, yes, I heard he was here too. Why hasn't he come out? Don't tell me you are imprisoning him?"
He laughed nervously.
"Haha—just kidding, Albus. You wouldn't joke about something like that… would you?"
Harry didn't understand everything the Minister was implying, but he understood enough:
Fudge had a personal grudge against Dumbledore.
Or worse… he feared him.
"And Lucius," Fudge repeated.
Harry glanced at Malfoy Sr.
Yes—Dumbledore had used a Tongue-Tying Curse on him and dragged him along.
Would Malfoy try to accuse Dumbledore?
Harry worried—but only a little. He trusted Dumbledore to handle it.
"Mr. Minister. I am here."
Lucius stepped gracefully into view.
He was still wrapped in a heavy black travel cloak. His cold grey eyes swept the room, severe enough to make the temperature drop.
Harry watched Dumbledore nervously, worried that Lucius might lash out or accuse him.
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