Chapter 766: Surrender to Me!!
Darren had expected something different.
For a moment, he had even thought he might end up like Harry—standing in that strange King's Cross, somewhere between life and death.
But that didn't happen.
Because when he intercepted a fragment of Voldemort's main soul, he had also blocked Voldemort's attack from truly reaching him.
What Voldemort destroyed… was only the piece of soul inside him.
Not Darren himself.
Voldemort, on the other hand, seemed to suffer a backlash. After losing part of his main soul, he lost consciousness for a brief moment.
Which meant—
Darren had no choice but to pretend.
If he didn't lie here like this, Voldemort would never relax enough to give others the chance to kill Nagini.
And without that, everything would fall apart.
So Darren lay there, completely still.
No breathing.
No movement.
Even his heartbeat… gone.
At times like this, magic really was useful.
---
"Master!"
The Death Eaters' anxious voices rose one after another.
"It's nothing."
Lord Voldemort spoke again, his voice steady, as if nothing had happened.
He stood up slowly and looked in Darren's direction.
The Death Eaters instinctively spread out, leaving Darren's body exposed in the firelight.
"Master, are you alright?"
Bellatrix Lestrange stepped forward, her voice trembling with concern.
Voldemort didn't even glance at her.
"I'm not that weak."
His eyes narrowed slightly.
"That boy… is he dead?"
Even he didn't sound completely certain.
---
No one moved.
No one dared to approach.
They only stared.
After everything that had happened, after all the times Harry had escaped death—no one wanted to be the one to check.
Darren lay there, unmoving.
To anyone watching, he was nothing more than a corpse.
---
A dull sound rang out.
Someone had been struck.
Voldemort's voice followed immediately.
"You. Go check if he's dead."
Darren adjusted his expression ever so slightly, then stilled again.
Footsteps approached.
Through the faint light, he recognized her.
Narcissa Malfoy.
Just like before.
---
As she reached him, Darren quietly shifted his appearance back to his own.
If Voldemort realized too soon what he had done… things might get troublesome.
Narcissa knelt beside him and gently turned him over.
The moment she saw his face, her pupils shrank.
A small, broken sound escaped her throat.
But in this chaos, no one paid attention.
They only thought she was overwhelmed.
Her hands trembled as she checked him—his pulse, his breathing.
Nothing.
Cold.
Still.
For a moment, despair filled her eyes.
---
"Is he dead?"
Voldemort's voice came again.
Narcissa lifted her head slowly.
Her face was pale, her eyes hollow.
There was grief there.
And something else.
Something sharp.
"He's dead."
Her voice was quiet.
But it carried.
---
For a second—
silence.
Then the forest erupted.
Cheers.
Spells fired wildly into the air, red and white flashes lighting up the darkness.
Voldemort raised his voice above it all.
"Do you see?"
"Harry Potter is dead—killed by my own hand!"
"This time, no one will stop me!"
---
Narcissa gave a soft, almost inaudible laugh.
Then she added, her voice low:
"Master… and Darren Potter."
Voldemort laughed again, louder this time.
"Yes."
"It is time to make this known."
"Darren Potter… is my bloodline."
"When the wizarding world hears this, they will understand—he belongs to me."
The Death Eaters roared in approval.
Only Narcissa remained silent.
She stumbled back toward Lucius Malfoy, who caught her in his arms.
"Don't be afraid," Lucius whispered.
But she said nothing.
---
"Now—"
Voldemort's voice rang out again.
"It's time to deal with this child."
---
Darren suddenly felt his body lifted—
then thrown.
He hit the ground hard.
Again.
And again.
Each time, laughter echoed through the clearing.
Narcissa let out a quiet, choked sound.
But she didn't move.
---
"Master…"
Her voice was barely above a whisper.
"Wouldn't you like to look at him yourself?"
Voldemort ignored her.
Even now—even believing Harry Potter was dead—
he still didn't step closer.
The firelight flickered weakly, and Darren's glasses—still part of his disguise—hid his face well enough.
---
He was thrown once more.
This time, his glasses shifted slightly.
Crooked.
Still—
Voldemort didn't notice.
---
"Enough."
Voldemort finally said.
"Take him."
"Let them see what has become of their hero."
He paused, then pointed lazily.
"You."
His wand indicated Rubeus Hagrid.
"You'll carry him."
"You're close, aren't you?"
"That will make it more convincing."
"And fix his glasses—let them recognize him properly."
---
Hagrid stepped forward.
His hands shook as he lifted Darren.
He tried to adjust the glasses—
but suddenly stopped.
Tears fell, one after another, landing on Darren's face.
---
"Move."
A Death Eater barked.
Hagrid didn't respond.
Until Voldemort flicked his wand.
A force pulled him upright.
With a broken sob, Hagrid tightened his grip around Darren.
He didn't say a word.
Not even when he must have realized—
who Voldemort had truly killed.
---
"Faster!"
Voldemort shouted impatiently.
"Don't waste time!"
"Let them see properly!"
---
Hagrid carried Darren out of the forest.
Step by step.
When the light began to change—when the castle came into view—Darren guessed Voldemort would finally notice.
But still—
Voldemort didn't look closely.
Perhaps… even now, he avoided looking directly.
Even in victory, there was still that shadow.
---
"Stop."
Voldemort's voice rang out.
Hagrid halted immediately.
Still holding Darren firmly.
---
Footsteps approached.
Slow.
Measured.
Voldemort stopped in front of him.
Then raised his voice so it would carry across the grounds.
"Harry Potter is dead."
"He died fleeing."
"When you gave everything for him… he chose to run."
"To prove it—"
"I bring you his body."
He spread his arms slightly.
"We have won."
"We have crushed your resistance."
"We have killed Harry Potter."
---
His voice grew colder.
Sharper.
"Now—come out."
"Kneel before me."
"Surrender."
---
Then, almost as an afterthought—
he added, with a faint smile:
"As for Darren Potter…"
"If you are still alive—"
"I will give you a chance."
"Face me."
"Fight me fairly."
"And if you lose—"
"Then, like them…"
"You will kneel."
"And surrender to me."