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Chapter 698 Waste, a Bunch of Waste!!
Darren had already noticed it.
But he didn't think surrender was necessary.
Because he still had a way to get back.
So he carefully observed those small creatures.
They were pressing in on him from every direction.
At this point, he could barely move his wand.
They clung to him tightly, and if he tried to Apparate now, there was a very real chance he would bring them all with him.
He knew very well—
he had already changed many things from the original course of events.
After all, in the original story, Voldemort had never done anything like this.
"It would be easy for me to leave," Darren said calmly.
"At any moment, I could use a Portkey and go back."
He looked straight at Voldemort as he spoke.
Voldemort froze for a moment.
He clearly didn't understand what Darren was planning.
But Darren was already laughing.
"It's been forty minutes now. I think my brother should have already arrived safely."
"Harry Potter!"
Voldemort's eyes turned bloodshot, as if they might burst from rage.
"So you dragged this out just to buy Harry Potter time?
Then what now?
Are you planning to surrender?
Or are you going to let these creatures eat you alive?"
Voldemort asked coldly.
Darren met his gaze.
"Of course not," he said calmly.
"I was just asking whether I should die now."
Then—
"Thunderclap!"
Darren shouted.
Almost half of his body exploded into a spray of blood.
The creatures immediately pounced on the drifting blood droplets.
Voldemort was furious.
He laughed in rage.
"You're destroying your own bloodline like this."
"Then—goodbye."
Darren raised his wand.
He vanished on the spot.
Voldemort stared at the empty space coldly.
Then he waved his wand.
The creatures disappeared.
Only blood still floated in the air.
Voldemort waved his wand again, gathering the blood into a vial and slipping it into his robes.
Then he turned to his Death Eaters and roared,
"Waste. A bunch of useless trash!"
---
Harry had been waiting in the garden.
Half an hour later—
the Portkey burned hot in his hand.
He vanished from Privet Drive.
Moments later, he arrived at Grimmauld Place.
Sirius was pacing anxiously.
When he saw Harry, his face lit up.
"Good, good—come on, let's get you settled first!"
They stepped into the fireplace.
"Oh Merlin, Harry, you're finally here! Are you all right?"
Mrs. Weasley rushed forward and hugged him tightly.
Harry barely had time to react before asking,
"Darren—have they come back yet?"
"No… not yet," Mrs. Weasley said quietly.
Then—
a figure appeared out of thin air.
"Molly, I'm here."
Moody nodded.
Then he saw Harry and smiled faintly.
"Good. Good. Darren will be very glad to know you're safe."
Harry's face was full of worry.
"How is he?"
"Before I left, I saw him pretending to be overwhelmed and 'captured' by the Death Eaters," Moody said gravely.
"That was necessary.
He needed them to believe they'd caught you.
Otherwise, they'd suspect you were still nearby."
Soon after, Hermione and Ron returned.
Then Tonks, Fleur, and Lupin.
Fred and George stumbled in, looking dazed.
"Mom—get us some water quick—we might've swallowed fireworks!"
"You idiots!" Mrs. Weasley shrieked.
"How do you even swallow fireworks?!"
Moody slammed his staff against the floor.
"Molly, calm down. They did well.
They got an entire bottle of potion—enough for Darren to counter Snape's poison."
Darren had been right.
Snape did have a way to deal with him.
If Darren hadn't been prepared, he might truly have been incapacitated this time.
"What potion?" Harry asked.
Moody waved him off.
"I don't feel like explaining.
Wait for Darren to come back—he'll tell you himself.
He said he'd be back in a little over forty minutes.
That was the maximum delay he could guarantee."
Harry's heart clenched.
He began counting the time.
Forty minutes.
Only a few minutes remained.
The room fell silent.
No one spoke.
Harry's fear spread uncontrollably.
Facing Voldemort—
would Darren really come back?
Or would all that return be his body?
Just as Harry's thoughts spiraled—
Moody suddenly stood up.
"He's back."
Mrs. Weasley rushed forward again.
And then—
Harry froze in horror.
Darren walked in, drenched in blood.
Half of his upper body was gone, replaced by a shifting silhouette of crimson mist.
"Darren!"
Mrs. Weasley reached for him—
but stopped.
She didn't dare touch him.
She didn't even dare stand too close.
"I'm fine," Darren said with a smile.
"It just looks scary.
I avoided the vital points.
Give me two days—I'll be fine."
No one laughed.
Finally, Ginny forced a smile.
"Mom… you have to help him. Please… you have to heal him."
"Yes, it hurts," Darren admitted lightly.
"I held it in all the way here.
If you stun me now, it might actually help.
I've built resistance to most Draughts of Living Death—they don't knock me out anymore."
"Stupefy!"
Hermione cast the spell.
Darren collapsed into her arms.
Harry watched as they carried Darren deeper into the house.
The room fell silent.
Only Mrs. Weasley's hurried commands echoed from inside.
Harry forced a smile and asked quietly,
"Can he still go to St. Mungo's?"
"No—not right now," Lupin replied.
"Especially not after tonight.
The Death Eaters will definitely be watching it.
Trust Molly—she knows how to handle wounds like this."
Lupin smiled.
But Harry could see it.
The smile was forced.
His face was full of fear.
"At least… no one died tonight," Sirius said, trying to sound hopeful.
"The Death Eaters knew our plan.
There was a traitor on the outside—but not within the Order.
Darren dealt with every risk he could foresee."
Then Moody spoke again, grimly.
"Mundungus didn't come back.
He ran."
Harry stiffened.
"I don't know if he'll go to the Death Eaters," Moody continued.
"But knowing him, he's probably hiding.
When he fled, he shoved me—trying to push me toward the Death Eaters.
Fortunately, Darren warned me beforehand that Mundungus couldn't be trusted.
He deliberately had me take him along as a test.
If Mundungus betrayed us, killing him would've been a shame.
I hesitated.
And I let him go."
Moody slammed his fist onto the table.
Harry felt strangely awkward.
Because Darren would never have handled it so crudely—
but Mundungus had clearly been watching Darren closely.
Something about it felt… wrong.