Chapter 768: Harry, Let Me Take Him Back!!
"Darren…"
Harry dropped to his knees beside him, his hands trembling as tears kept falling, one after another, onto Darren's clothes.
He remembered everything Darren had said about bloodlines… and now it all came crashing down on him at once. The pain in his chest was so sharp he couldn't even breathe properly, let alone speak.
His throat felt locked.
His mind empty.
All he knew was one thing—
His brother was dead.
---
And worse…
Dumbledore had known.
He had calculated everything.
He had known what Darren would do… and still let it happen.
He had watched Darren take Voldemort's soul… watched him walk toward death…
…and did nothing to stop it.
---
Harry's chest burned with anger.
For a moment, he even wanted to grab his wand and tear that calm, composed expression off Dumbledore's face.
---
"Harry… don't be like this. Let me take Darren back…"
It was Hermione.
Her voice was soft, trembling.
She reached out and gently brushed Darren's face. There was still a faint smile on his lips, as if he had simply fallen asleep.
---
Harry slowly let go.
He knew…
Hermione, Ron… all of them—
They were hurting just as much.
Maybe even more.
They hadn't even gotten the chance to say goodbye.
---
Harry turned his head and looked at Voldemort.
In the distance, Dumbledore and Gellert Grindelwald were already fighting him together.
---
"The true master of the Elder Wand is Darren!"
Dumbledore's voice rang out suddenly.
---
Harry froze.
He almost spoke.
Almost said that Darren had already passed the wand's allegiance to him.
But Dumbledore continued, even as he fought—
"No… the Elder Wand has always belonged to Darren. It chose him."
"In first year, I let him use it… and from that moment, it acknowledged him. It never wanted another master again."
"It changed hands several times… but its true owner never changed."
"It has always been Darren!"
---
Another spell shot from Dumbledore's wand.
Voldemort sneered coldly.
"What are you trying to say?"
---
Dumbledore stopped.
His voice was calm.
"It means… the Elder Wand will not go against its true master's will."
---
Then—
"Expelliarmus!"
"Avada Kedavra!"
---
Two spells collided.
Everything slowed.
The green light twisted—
reversed—
and flew back.
---
It struck Voldemort.
---
He staggered.
Just for a second.
Then, like any ordinary mortal struck by death—
he fell.
---
Voldemort was dead.
---
His pale, snake-like face froze in blank disbelief.
Dumbledore stepped forward and picked up the Elder Wand.
---
A roar erupted across the castle grounds.
Some cried.
Some laughed.
Some collapsed where they stood.
---
But Dumbledore didn't smile.
He quietly tucked the Elder Wand into his robes.
He exchanged a brief glance with Grindelwald, who gave a small nod.
Then Dumbledore turned—
and walked toward Darren.
---
Hermione was still holding him tightly.
She didn't want to let go.
---
"Give him to me," Dumbledore said softly. "There may still be something I can do."
---
Everyone froze.
Hermione's head snapped up.
"You mean… he can still be saved?"
Her voice shook.
---
Dumbledore hesitated.
"…Yes. There is a chance. His soul… shouldn't have gone far yet."
"But… it may require your help."
"And I don't know if… you would be willing. Or if he would."
---
For a moment, no one moved.
Then Hermione grabbed his sleeve.
Tears finally slipped down her face.
"I'll do anything. As long as he can wake up… I'll do anything."
---
"I will too!"
"Me too!"
"Same here!"
"I don't care what it is!"
---
Voices overlapped, one after another.
Messy.
Desperate.
---
This time—
Dumbledore truly smiled.
He shook his head slightly.
"Let me try first. Perhaps I won't need your help."
Then he looked at Harry.
"And you… come with me."
---
Harry stood there, unmoving.
His mind hadn't caught up yet.
Saved?
Darren… could still be saved?
---
He clenched his hand hard.
Pain shot through his palm—
but it grounded him.
His eyes snapped up.
"Is he really… alive?"
---
"Harry," Dumbledore said gently, "this is only a possibility."
---
The fragile hope in Harry's chest flickered—
then dimmed.
---
He looked down at Darren's still face.
That peaceful, unmoving expression.
And the hope faded again.
---
Maybe…
This was just Dumbledore trying to avoid trouble.
Trying to soften the aftermath.
---
Harry let out a quiet, bitter laugh.
To others…
Darren was just trouble.
---
He wanted to tell Dumbledore to stop.
To leave Darren alone.
He was already… resting.
Let him rest properly.
---
But he knew Darren.
If Dumbledore asked for help—
Darren would never refuse.
---
Harry covered his eyes.
Trying to stop the tears from falling.
---
"Come, Harry," Dumbledore said gently.
---
He walked quickly toward the Headmaster's office.
---
Inside—
Dumbledore flicked his wand.
The chair transformed into a bed.
He carefully laid Darren down.
---
For a brief moment—
Harry thought Darren would open his eyes.
Look confused.
Then smile, like always—
and call him "brother."
---
But nothing happened.
---
Darren lay there, still and silent.
Harry's glasses still sat crooked on his face.
---
And when Harry noticed that—
his nose stung sharply.
---
"Harry, I'm sorry you had to see me like this," Dumbledore said lightly. "It must have ruined my image a bit."
---
Harry didn't respond.
He didn't even look at him.
---
He only stared at Darren.
"If you can't save him… send him back."
"He should be with Hermione and the others."
"They miss him."
---
And Remus… the others…
They had already broken down earlier.
Even Voldemort's death hadn't eased that grief.
---
"Oh, Harry," Dumbledore said softly, "I do have an idea. A real one."
"But you'll need to understand everything first."
---
Harry shook his head.
A tired, hollow smile on his face.
"I don't want to know."
---
"You should."
Dumbledore paused, thinking.
"…Let's begin with the moment I told you to go to your death."
---
Harry finally looked at him.
His expression cracked.
---
"That wasn't me."
His voice trembled.
"It wasn't me who died…"
---
He couldn't continue.
---
Tears slipped down his face—
fell—
hit the table—
then the floor—
leaving small, dark marks.
---
Dumbledore watched him quietly.
Then spoke.
"Harry… I needed you to go to Voldemort."
"Because I knew…"
"You wouldn't die."
---
Harry didn't want to think.
But the answer was already there.
Waiting.
---
He whispered it out.
"…Because he took my blood… when he was reborn."