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Harry was furious.
Not just because Malfoy had snatched his diary, but because Malfoy's mouth was unbearable as always.
And he'd made Ginny cry.
Even though Harry honestly felt the Weasleys' little daughter was impossible to understand sotis—every ti she saw him and Darren, she looked startled out of her mind—still…
That didn't matter.
Mr. and Mrs. Weasley had always been good to him, and to Darren. There was no way he could let their daughter be bullied.
And just now, Ginny's eyes were red, with tears still falling.
She had covered her mouth in fear, completely terrified by Malfoy.
"Malfoy, that's enough!"
Harry pulled out his wand.
He didn't care about the rule forbidding magic in the corridors—right now, he just wanted Malfoy to pay.
Darren's latest injury had left him irritable and on edge.
But Malfoy ignored his anger completely.
He happily opened the diary, trying to find sothing Harry had written—but after flipping through every page, he found nothing.
"Potter, this is it? What's the use of having this?
Let see—maybe if I throw it, Scarhead will surprise us…"
Malfoy pointed toward the nearby window.
He was ready to toss the diary out.
"Put it down! I'm warning you!"
Harry shouted, furious.
Malfoy glanced at him—and then…
"Expelliarmus!"
The diary flew out of Malfoy's hand, and Ron caught it.
"I'm going to tell Filch that Scarhead cast a spell in the corridor—"
Malfoy snapped, furious, glaring at Harry.
But another voice cut him off.
It was Mr. Filch.
His gloomy, sallow face appeared right beside Malfoy's, making Malfoy jump back in fright.
"You. What are you doing?"
"Ahem—weren't you going to tell sothing?"
Filch's expression turned even darker.
"Damn Death Eaters… always hiding… can never find them. If I catch one, I'll hand them straight to Dumbledore—let him expel the lot!"
Filch stared at Malfoy with a sharp, cold look.
Then suddenly:
"I heard your father used to be a Death Eater, didn't he?"
"No—he didn't—
Oh, don't you get smug! I'll have my father get you fired!"
Malfoy shouted, rattled by Filch, but still refusing to miss an opportunity to snarl at Harry and Filch.
"Thank you…"
Harry tried to thank Filch.
Even if Filch had helped, it was definitely only because of Darren.
But Filch cut him off.
"No—never mind that.
You just ca from seeing Darren—how is he?"
Filch's nervousness was clear.
Harry thought he was simply concerned about the injuries—until Filch spoke again, voice wavering:
"You tell him… he doesn't need to brew those stupid potions for people like us. We're not in a hurry… everyone has waited so many years… now we only want him safe…"
Harry rembered Darren's exhausted, sleepy expression just earlier, and his heart tightened.
Madam Pomfrey had said Darren hadn't rested in a long ti.
She'd scolded him not out of anger, but because he kept pushing his body to the limit.
Even with strong potions, healing still required ti.
"Ti seems to pass too fast in him… it's like he's forcefully speeding up his own body… just to finish those potions…"
Pomfrey had said helplessly.
Her expression had been full of exasperation and worry. She could never be truly harsh with him—his kindness made it impossible.
All she could do was force him to rest.
Harry's chest ached at the mory.
He nodded silently and headed toward the Gryffindor common room.
Only when he reached his dormitory did he finally breathe out.
Why were Death Eaters always targeting Darren?
Why did they keep hurting him?
If they had the ability, they should co after him, not Darren!
He was the Boy Who Lived. Darren wasn't. So why was Darren carrying so much pain?
He clenched his fists in anger and slamd them into his bed.
The impact jolted sothing beneath his hand.
Huh?
Right—the diary.
The black diary that had always felt strangely important.
And the na Tom Riddle… it tugged at sothing buried deep in Harry's mory.
He felt as if he'd known the na for years.
But even so, he still had no idea what secrets the diary held.
Maybe… he should try writing in it?
Thinking so, Harry pulled out his quill and began writing about what had happened today.
But sothing strange happened.
The ink vanished the mont it touched the page—absorbed by the diary.
Then a line of writing appeared on its own:
"Hello. I am Tom Riddle. Are you looking for ?"
Harry froze.
This diary was definitely not normal.
And just like in the original story, Tom Riddle pulled Harry into a mory—showing him what happened fifty years ago.
Harry ran out of the dormitory in shock.
He found Hermione and Ron.
"Co here—I have to tell you sothing.
Fifty years ago… it was Hagrid who opened the Chamber of Secrets!"
Harry explained everything Riddle had shown him, voice trembling with disbelief.
"Hagrid?"
"Impossible. You think Hagrid is Slytherin's heir?"
Hermione and Ron were stunned—but the mories were right there.
And Hagrid had been expelled.
And Hagrid really did like keeping dangerous creatures.
Back in first year, he'd even raised a dragon—though Charlie eventually took it away.
But it still proved Hagrid had raised creatures capable of causing harm.
Maybe one of them really could petrify people.
"Harry—do you rember before school started?
You accidentally wandered into Knockturn Alley…
Hagrid found you there. Darren nearly fainted when you told him."
Hermione suddenly rembered, her voice sharp with realization.
"Yeah. Hagrid was in Knockturn Alley too—he said he was buying sothing to get rid of carnivorous slugs."
The three fell silent at the sa mont.
Could it really… be Hagrid?
Thinking of everything that had happened recently, they didn't dare tell Darren.
If Darren found out Hagrid was involved in the petrifications, he would be devastated.
He would stare at them in shock—then run straight to Hagrid.
And the truth might break him.
Whether Hagrid had opened the Chamber or one of his pets had done it…
Either way, it would shatter Darren.
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