Hagrid And The Chamber

                                    

                                          
As they walked in the courtyard, Harry's voice cut through the chilled air, his expression serious. "It was Hagrid. Hagrid opened the Chamber of Secrets fifty years ago."
"It can't be Hagrid," Hermione said, echoing Thomas's disbelief. Her voice was shaky, her mind already trying to piece together some kind of explanation. "It just can't be."
"Yeah, I'm with Hermione on this one," Thomas added, shaking his head. "Hagrid's the last person who'd open up something as dangerous as that."
Ron, however, remained more skeptical. "We don't even know this Tom Riddle. He sounds like a dirty rotten snitch to me," he said, crossing his arms defensively.
Harry, still serious, shot back, "The monster killed someone, Ron. What would any of us have done?"
Thomas blew out a breath, running a hand through his hair. "Okay, but we're talking about Hagrid here. I know he's a bit... rough around the edges, but setting a monster loose? That's a bit far, even for him."
Hermione, clearly still troubled, offered an idea. "Look, Hagrid's our friend. Why don't we just go and ask him about it?"
Ron snorted, "That'll be a cheerful visit. 'Hello, Hagrid. Tell us, have you been setting anything mad and hairy loose in the castle lately?'"
"Yeah. I'm sure he'd love that." Thomas muttered.
Just then, a shadow loomed over behind them. Hagrid had appeared, and the group froze.
"Mad and hairy?" Hagrid repeated, raising an eyebrow. "You wouldn't be talkin' about me now, would ya?"
Startled, the group quickly fumbled for a response, speaking in unison. "No!"
There was an awkward pause before Harry, trying to break the tension, pointed to what Hagrid was carrying. "What's that you've got, Hagrid?"
"Oh, this?" Hagrid lifted the container of Flesh-Eating Slug Repellent, his tone softening. "It's for the Mandrakes. Professor Sprout says they've still got a bit o' growin' up to do, but once their acne clears up, we'll be able to chop 'em up and stew 'em, get those folks unpetrified."
Hagrid's gaze lingered on them for a moment, a faint concern in his eyes. "But in the meantime, you four had better look after yourselves, all right?"
Thomas, still trying to process what Harry had told them, forced a smile. "Yeah, we'll be fine, Hagrid. Just, uh, trying not to set any hairy monsters loose."
Hagrid turned to leave, his heavy footsteps fading as he walked away. Just as the group began to relax, they were interrupted by the frantic arrival of Neville Longbottom, nearly out of breath as he rushed up to them.
"Hello, Neville," Hagrid greeted as he passed, but Neville barely registered it. His wide eyes locked on Harry.
"Harry, I don't know who did it," Neville panted, "but you'd better come! C'mon!"
Without a word, Harry shot a glance at Ron, Hermione, and Thomas, who exchanged confused looks. Whatever had Neville this worked up couldn't be good.
The group followed Neville, winding through the castle halls and up the stairs, before they finally arrived at the entrance to Gryffindor Tower. Neville led them straight into Harry's dormitory, where they stopped abruptly at the doorway.
The room was a mess. It looked like a tornado had swept through it—trunks overturned, books scattered, and blankets thrown onto the floor. Ron and Hermione stood at the entrance in shock as Harry quickly crossed the room, his eyes scanning the chaotic scene.
Thomas, walking in beside Harry, raised an eyebrow. "This is... bad. Really bad," he muttered under his breath, taking in the destruction.
"It had to be a Gryffindor," Hermione spoke up, still staring around. "Nobody else knows our password."