"...What's wrong?"
Even though Harry was still in a state of headache, he noticed Hagrid's unusual behavior. This eleven-foot-tall, usually carefree half-giant, now showed fear and a hint of annoyance in his eyes, making him look like...like a five-hundred-pound child.
Upon hearing the question, Hagrid instinctively began to look around. He even stood up and went to the window to check, and even when he saw no one around, he still appeared uneasy. Only when he drew the curtains tightly shut to block out even a sliver of light did he finally breathe a sigh of relief, pull out a chair, and sit back down.
He stammered for a long time, his gaze shifting several times between the perplexed faces of Harry and Hermione, before finally hesitantly speaking, "You, you...where did you hear that name from?"
"..."
The two exchanged a glance, and in the end, it was Harry who spoke. He covered the lightning-shaped scar on his forehead, "I received a package on Christmas, and inside was a blank diary signed Tom M. Riddle. Yesterday..."
Harry's words were cut off by Hagrid's sharp intake of breath. The half-giant nearly jumped out of his seat, pressing his massive hands on Harry's shoulders, saliva spraying from his thick beard, "Tom...that person's diary, where is it?"
Saying this, he reached out to check Harry's pockets, but of course, Harry wouldn't carry a dictionary or "Hogwarts: A History," so even though Hagrid swiftly turned the boy inside out, he only found a few Wizard Chess pieces, a handful of Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans, and a Chocolate Frog crawling all over the table.
"..."
Looking at the Chocolate Frog tangled in a ball of yarn, it was evident the little creature had been with Harry for an indeterminate amount of time.
"Hagrid, it's not on me, because I've been feeling strange recently—"
Harry blushes as he wriggles free from Hagrid's grip—not blushing wasn't an option, as Hagrid, in his anxiety, seemed to have nearly forgotten his own strength, leaving Harry unsure whether his head hurt more or his shoulders.
"Strange?"
"I mentioned it to you, Hermione," Harry nods, "I don't trust it; I can feel an awareness inside the diary that seems to hate something—"
"Of course it hates, Harry; everyone knows what it hates—" Hagrid's demeanor was strange. He trembled as he picked up his large cup and poured hot water from the kettle into it, "It hates you..."
"Me?"
Harry looked puzzled, "No, impossible, I haven't even heard that name..."
"But you've heard its other name..."
As he said this, Hagrid's hand shook even more, and Harry could feel the fear in his eyes replaced by...anger?
"What?"
"You-Know-Who."
"Voldemort?"
"Ahem..."
Hagrid choked, startled, about to say something, but after glancing around the room and realizing he was the only living being in the room reacting to the forbidden name, he resignedly wiped his beard with his hand, "Yes, Harry, I've told you, Vol-Vol..."
Hagrid tried, but couldn't smoothly say the name, so he had to wave his arm helplessly, "Alright, You-Know-Who, he also graduated from Hogwarts, two years ahead of me—though I was expelled in my third year—"
Harry stood on tiptoe to pat the giant's shoulder in consolation, sensing Hagrid's pain and regret as he recounted it.
"Was it because of that attack?" Harry pressed on.
"Yes, a witch died in the castle, and they thought I did it—"
Hagrid spoke while looking at the iron tub on the table. Aragog just happened to poke its head out, fluttering its claws in protest at Hagrid's statement, "But it wasn't me," Hagrid continued, "Aragog never harmed a human...at least not fifty years ago."
Aragog fluttered its forelegs again, having long lost its ability to speak with its fangs and venom glands removed.
"So Voldemort accused you?"
"...Harry, how do you know about this?"
"It was the diary. It showed me a memory—I saw you, saw Dumbledore, saw Voldemort, and even saw Aragog in the memory—it was Voldemort who accused you. In hindsight, it seems like a frame-up."
Harry nods. At this moment, he finally feels the pain on his forehead subside.
"Alright," Hagrid said, his mouth agape, the horror in his eyes yet unfaded, "If that's the case, you must be very careful with that diary...it's best to give it to Professor Dumbledore. Anything related to Voldemort is very dangerous—"
"But now the issue is different," Hermione, who'd been silent for most of this chapter, takes a deep breath, a hint of fear in her tone, "Now that we know there's a problem with that diary, who exactly sent it to Harry?"
The question left the small cabin in silence.
"Ahem, anyway, finding the Secret Chamber is no longer the key." Hermione shakes her head, saying, "We need to find out who wants to frame Harry..."
"Malfoy!"
Harry slapped the table suddenly, letting out a shocked exclamation.
"?"
Hermione blinked, why him again?
"If there's anyone in this school who hates me the most, Malfoy is definitely one of them—" Harry stated earnestly, "And William had mentioned that it was Lucius Malfoy who sent the key to the Secret Chamber to the castle, so Draco Malfoy must know something too—"
"This is the most justified suspicion you've had about Malfoy so far."
After listening to Harry's explanation, Hermione finally nodded.
"...Is it?"
"By the way, Harry, where did you put the diary?"
"Uh, in the backpack..."
"..."
The two subconsciously glanced at each other, Hermione's eyes gradually widened.
"Are you saying?"
"Possibly... Hagrid," Hermione stood up, pulling Harry along, "We need to go back first—"
"Be careful, Harry," hearing their conversation, Hagrid also realized the seriousness of the situation, "If something goes wrong, you must go to Dumbledore, he'll definitely help you—"
Harry nodded, and the two agreed as they quickly left Hagrid's cabin.
...
On the way back to the castle, nothing unexpected happened. Stepping over feathers scattered in the corridor, they quickly returned to the common room and saw the intact backpack on the sofa. Harry finally breathed a sigh of relief, "See, I told you..." The next moment, his expression began to turn stiff.
"...Gone?"
Hermione wasn't even very surprised, looking as if she had expected it.
"Gone."
Harry incredulously rummaged through, "Standard Book of Spells, Grade 1," "Magic History," "Thousand Magical Herbs and Mushrooms," "Wanderings with Werewolves"... even his unfinished paper was there, but the black blank diary had just disappeared.
In the bustling common room, Harry looked around in a daze.
"Stop looking, it might already be out of the common room."
Hermione pulled Harry to sit on the sofa, she subconsciously put her thumb into her mouth, frowning.
"...You're not surprised at all." Harry was a little puzzled.
"If you could notice your changes in the past few days, you wouldn't be surprised either."
"What do you mean?"
"Ever since Christmas until now, you've been acting somewhat out of it, often staring blankly at something, even your appetite has decreased, and every time I asked you, you kept saying it's nothing, but the most important thing is—"
"The most important?"
"You actually wrote the Potions Class paper yourself."
"D-Did I?" The boy was a bit surprised, instinctively touching his scar.
"I couldn't figure out the reason, but now I roughly understand," the girl said softly, "it might be Voldemort influencing you."
"Isn't that a bit far-fetched, I don't seem to have..." Harry was a bit bewildered, apparently not expecting this, although he indeed found himself easily distracted these days, he thought it was because Wood dragged the team for snowy day practice all the time... and the relationship between Cho Chang and that Hufflepuff jerk.
"You really didn't notice." Hermione sighed, "But it's too similar—"
"...Similar to what?"
"Remember last year, the month before Ron was petrified?" Hermione's eyes flashed continuously.
"!"
At this moment, Harry seemed to understand something, he suddenly stood up.
"Yes, I never connected you until today when I learned Voldemort's true name." Hermione nodded, exhaling slowly, "That diary was influencing you, it likely influenced Ron the same way before—"
"Then, what do we do now?"
With the diary gone, does that mean... Voldemort has already escaped?
The boy appeared a bit anxious, pacing back and forth on the carpet for a moment, "Perhaps, like Hagrid said, we should go to... Dumbledore?"
"Maybe there's another option..."
"Who?"
...
"...That's what happened."
Hermione relaxed slightly, recounting so much in one breath was indeed a challenge.
"So, this is your... story?"
Looking at the two little wizards clustered at the Hufflepuff long table in front of him, William leisurely added pepper to his French onion soup.