Despite her best efforts, Hazel didn't get a chance to revisit the gremlin corridor until the end of the week.

There were other things to worry about the next day, as Neville managed to drop all his potions ingredients in the main hall. They formed a huge cloud that smelt like old socks and turned everyone's hair pink. Romilda had been in hysterics and by the time Professor McGonagall had performed the counter-spell on everyone, it was time to go back to class.

The second time she tried to get back to the Defence Against the Dark Arts corridor, she was stopped by Professor Flitwick, as a student had managed to flood the entire floor, and they had to wait for the castle to drain itself. That was frustrating, but it was pretty cool that the castle could just do that magically. She could only imagine Filch's face if he'd needed to mop it all up by hand.

She didn't get another chance to check. With the classes starting back up again, their evenings were spent in the Gryffindor Common Room, nose buried in books.

"I still can't believe Snape wants a full roll of parchment on bezoars," Ginny scowled that Thursday morning at breakfast, "What's there to write? Its literally just a goat stomach."

How could Ginny say that? There was so much behind bezoars, how it was prepared, stored, used, refined, "It's not just a goat stomach!"

"It is though."

"It's not! There's loads to write about!"

"Is not!"

"Is too!"

"Miss Potter," Professor McGonagall had come down from the staff table and Hazel stopped at once, "We will begin our private tutoring this evening, 7pm sharp in my classroom if you please."

"Yes, Professor."

"Very good, I shall see you then," She strode off.

Ginny grimaced sympathetically, "Well, it could be worse. Do you think Snape would give me private lessons on bezoars?"

Hazel laughed.

Her nerves grew throughout the day though and by dinner she could barely eat. Why was 7 o'clock coming so quickly? Why didn't the clock move so quickly in History of Magic?

At last, she stood and threw her bag over her shoulder.

"Good luck," Ginny said as she left.

It was weird going to the transfiguration corridor by herself and the hairs stood on her arms like they had after Lockhart's detention.

Please don't run into Filch now…

She knocked on the door of the Transfiguration classroom with butterflies fluttering furiously in her stomach.

"Enter," said Professor McGonagall from inside.

She was sitting behind her desk with a pile of parchment rolls to one side and a stack of books to the other. The candlelight reflected off her glasses as she looked up.

"You can place your bag at your desk, Miss Potter. You will only need your wand this evening."

Hazel pulled out her wand and the butterflies fluttered all the more madly. The dreaded toothpicks were lined up neatly.

"You know why you are here, Miss Potter," Professor McGonagall stood with a sigh, "This is not a punishment, but to help you reach the level I would expect someone of your understanding to occupy. Now, please attempt to turn these matchsticks into pins. You can take your time."

Hazel pointed her wand at the first matchstick with that familiar feeling of dread. She knew exactly what was going to happen, because it always did. Sure enough, the matchstick didn't so much as twitch.

"You need to be decisive," Professor McGonagall said, "Magic is an extension of yourself and transfiguration in particular. You have no words to concentrate on, no spells to learn. Try again."

Hazel jabbed her wand, but nothing happened. She could feel herself blushing. How long was she going to have to keep embarrassing herself? Why wasn't the clock moving fast anymore?

"And again."

Nothing. Time and again she tried and each time there was no result. She may as well have been waving a twig from the Whomping Willow.

"I think that's enough for this evening," Professor McGonagall said at long last, "I shall see you at the same time next week."

What had been the point of that? An entire hour and she was no closer to performing magic than she had been in Privet Drive. Useless. Absolutely useless.

Just like Uncle Vernon had always said.

The Common Room was particularly crammed when she got back. Partly this was because of the homework everyone had to do but mostly it was because the gobstones club were practising in the corner and everyone was giving their disgusting smell a wide berth. There was no sign of the quidditch team, Wood was insisting on training every night for the match against Hufflepuff, homework or no homework.

Ginny and Atia were sitting in the corner with their homework spread out across the table. Ginny was frowning at her parchment and massaging her temple with both hands.

"But nothing happened," She was saying to Atia, "That's what the book says. 'The Vaduz Conference of 1562 is famous in the historical community for the lack of anything to report.' Seriously, how many times can you write 'nothing happened'?"

"You're not supposed to write about the conference itself," Atia said condescendingly, "You're supposed to write about the context of the conference, the attendees and it's greater legacy."

"What legacy?" Ginny scowled, tapping her quill on the desk, "Nothing. Happened."

Hazel pulled out her own essay. It was a lot closer to Ginny's in length than Atia's because, like Ginny, she had concluded that if the entire wizarding world forgot about the Vaduz Conference tomorrow, they would lose exactly nothing.

"How'd it go?" Ginny asked.

"Not great."

"I'm not surprised," said Atia without looking up, "You are rather poor at wand-work."

Hazel felt herself deflating.

"Really?" The whole desk rattled as Ginny slammed her history of magic book, "Really? Of all the things you could have said, you chose that?"

Atia sneered a little, "I was only telling the truth."

"No Atia, you were being a cow, like always."

"Don't you call me a cow!" Atia jumped to her feet with her cheeks going pink.

"Then stop acting like one all the time!" Ginny jumped to her feet as well.

"Ginny!" Percy came striding over, "Malfoy! This is totally inappropriate behaviour! If you don't stop right now, I'm going to have to report you both."

"Me?" Ginny faced her brother, "She's the one acting like a prat! Just like her prat of a brother!"

Atia drew her wand, "Don't you dare insult my family!"

"Stop it!" Hazel jumped between them, "Both of you, just stop!"

There was a long silence before Atia threw her things into her bag and stormed off.

Ginny sat down, breathing heavily. It was remarkable how much like Mrs Weasley she looked. As the rest of the Common Room started chatting again, their table was entirely quiet. What were you supposed to say after something like that?

It was later in the evening that the portrait of the Fat Lady swung open and the quidditch team climbed in, still in their scarlet robes. Harry came straight over to their table.

"How'd your class go?" He asked.

"Not bad," If she was so terrible at magic then the class had gone exactly how it should.

"Ginny!" Fred and George joined them, "Is it true you called Atia a cow earlier?"

"How did you hear about that so quickly?" Ginny asked suspiciously.

"Ah," Fred tapped his nose, "We have our sources."

"What happened?" asked George.

"She insulted Hazel."

"It wasn't a big deal," Hazel said hurriedly at Harry's glare. She knew that expression all too well.

"Did she indeed?" George frowned.

"She's been doing that a lot recently," Fred said, "I thought she was alright for a Malfoy, but I guess there's always a prat there."

That wasn't entirely fair, but she didn't want another argument.

"George, Fred," the thought suddenly occurred to her, "Can I ask you something?"

"Sure," said Fred.

"Go ahead," said George.

"You know all the secret tunnels in the school, right?"

"Well, not all," Fred said smugly.

"But we know a lot," said George.

"Is there a tunnel behind the gremlin statues on the Defence Against the Dark Arts corridor?"

"Gremlin statue?" Fred frowned, "I've not heard that one before."

"How'd you find it?"

Hazel told them what had happened and Fred whistled.

"Nice one! Dodging Filch like that, very nice work."

"There's not a tunnel there that we've heard of," George said, "But Hogwarts has loads of these weird quirks, hiding spots, stuff that changes depending on the day, even the month sometimes."

"Lucky for you it was in a good mood though," Fred clapped her on the back and laughed.

"Yeah," Harry was glaring at her this time. She busied herself with her homework.

"Come on Harry," Fred said, "Or Wood'll beat us to death with our own broomsticks!"

Things did not improve in the next few weeks. Atia had gone back to spending her time away from Gryffindor Common Room and sitting on her own in every class. Any time Hazel tried to talk to her, she just walked away. Even when she expected it, the sight of that silver-blonde hair slip into the crowds hurt every time. What had she done wrong? Surely the argument with Ginny hadn't been that bad?

Her lessons with Professor McGonagall weren't improving either. If anything, they were even worse than the normal classes. At least Professor McGonagall had other students to watch then. When it was just Hazel and her, then all eyes were entirely on her pathetic attempts to do magic.

"Try again."

She shook her head. They had been here for half an hour already, every second of which had been torture. The toothpicks sat in a neat pile, taunting her.

She waved her wand. Nothing happened.

"One more time, please."

The frustration was growing inside her like a fire. The embarrassment of the failure, the humiliation of standing in front of her Head of House and failing over and over and over again. There was no improvement. There was never going to be any improvement.

"Miss Potter," Professor McGonagall said, "One more time, please."

"I don't think it's going to work, Professor."

"Why is that?"

"Because I can't do it," Anger and shame swirled around inside her, beating against the guilt.

"I think that you can."

"I can't!"

"Miss Potter," Professor McGonagall said sharply, "You can. Now give it another try."

"I can't!" She shouted. There was a flash like a gust of wind that scattered the toothpicks and blew Professor McGonagall's parchment across the room.

Professor McGonagall didn't move as she was pelted by toothpicks. There was a long and painful silence.

Oh no. What had she done? It was just like Snape; she had just been so angry. She had shouted at her Head of House. She was in so much trouble.

Professor McGonagall pulled out her wand. Hazel flinched and waited for the punishment she deserved but the teacher just waved her wand and returned everything to its position.

Another awkward silence.

"I think," Professor McGonagall said at last, "We have tried enough for tonight."

So, the Professor had finally realised it was a waste of time. What would she pack first? Would they break mum's wand? The thought broke her heart.

"Shortbread?"

"What?" She must be going mad, "Professor?"

Professor McGonagall waved her wand, and a tartan biscuit tin rose out of her desk.

"Take one, if you wish."

She didn't feel like eating, but it felt rude to refuse. Aunt Petunia had taught her that much at least. She took one and just held it.

"Please sit."

Hazel sat. Professor McGonagall did the same.

"There is nothing wrong with your magic, Miss Potter," She said in a surprisingly soft tone, "You have just proven that."

That was definitely a lie, but Professor McGonagall wouldn't be so understanding if she lost her temper again.

"Then why can't I do…anything?"

"That's quite simple. Because you have already accepted you won't."

"I don't understand, Professor."

"Magic does not come from waving a wand. It doesn't come from saying words or making gestures. Magic flows from within us, it is an extension of our soul."

"Then how do I get better?" Was there something wrong with her soul?

"Believe in yourself, Miss Potter. You belong at Hogwarts."

Hazel glanced out of the dark window as an owl fluttered by. Why should she believe in herself? No one else had?

No one but Harry.

"You belong at Hogwarts…"

Tears were tickling in the corner of her eyes, and she wiped them away quickly.

"I want to try again."

Professor McGonagall nodded and they returned to the matchsticks.

Hazel took a deep breath. Those thoughts came flooding back, the doubts and the fears but something else came with them. Harry smiling at her, Professor McGonagall's words echoed in her ear.

I belong here.

She waved her wand. Nothing happened.

"It's late," Professor McGonagall said, "We have a double period tomorrow where we can try-"

"No," Hazel said firmly, "I want to try again."

"Miss Potter-"

"I can do this."

Professor McGonagall nodded.

She steadied her breath, eyes fixed on the matchsticks. She thought of her mum, smiling proudly at her.

I belong here.

She flicked her wrist.

Wait! Was something different? The matchstick still looked like a matchstick, but it was definitely shinier, right? Maybe it was a trick of the light?

I did it…

"Congratulations, Miss Potter," Professor McGonagall smiled, "You have made some great progress tonight."

"Thank you, Professor!" She had done it! She was really a witch after all!

Professor McGonagall waited until Hazel had thrown everything into her bag and reached the door before calling, "And Miss Potter. You are very much like your mother. She would be proud of you."

Hazel nodded and closed the door as she felt the tears stinging in her eyes once more.

The next few days proved that her progress hadn't been a fluke. She hadn't turned into Hermione overnight but at least things sometimes happened on command. She could make her feather hover a little in Charms and her matchsticks looked more like needles with each transfiguration class.

"You're getting way better," Ginny said after their last class of the week, "Your matchstick even had a point on it!"
Hazel mumbled in agreement without taking her finger out of her mouth. She had only discovered the point when she'd tried to pick it up!

"Hey, seeing as it's Saturday tomorrow, do you fancy watching the quidditch team practise tonight?" Ginny said eagerly, "We can go to Hagrid's afterwards for hot chocolate!"

The clouds outside were swirling thick and black and the wind was whipping against the windows. It was still January after all. Hazel sighed and nodded. How many coats could she wear and still be able to walk?

A figure shoved painfully past her and there was a glimpse of silver hair before she disappeared around the corner.

Hazel bit her lip, "Will I ask Atia if she wants to come?"

Ginny's face darkened, "No? She'll just tell Malfoy everything the Gryffindors are working on. She might even tell Hufflepuff!"

"I don't think she would."

"Of course she would. Anything to sink Gryffindor."

"Why is she being so mean now?"

"Because she's a Malfoy," Ginny scoffed as they entered the common room, "It's what they do. Cows go moo, ducks go quack, Malfoys act like snakes."

Hazel thought of the book Atia had bought her, how her face had lit up at getting her own present. Surely that hadn't been fake? What had happened to make her so unhappy?

She had to find out. But what if Atia just sneered at her? What if she just made things worse? She had to be sure. There had to be someone she could ask.

Oh! Of course!

"Ginny, could I borrow your diary for a minute? I just want to ask Tom something."

Ginny went very pale, "I don't have it anymore."

"Oh no, what happened?"

"I lost it over the holidays."

"I'm sorry, I know you really liked writing to Tom."

"It's okay," Ginny shrugged, "I was probably writing to him too much. I wasn't feeling great afterwards."

So much for that idea.

Quidditch practise went exactly how she expected. Ginny enjoyed herself immensely and Hazel sat wrapped up in her Christmas cloak and her Weasley jumper plus her school cloak and two t-shirts. It was chilly enough anyway but when the sun went down and the wind picked up, it came truly freezing. It was only a matter of time before her nose fell off!

Hagrid seemed to be expecting them later that night, and he opened the door with a chuckle.

"'Ello ya two! I though' I saw ya headin' for tha pitch. Is tha' Hazel in there?" He peered under her hood. Hazel couldn't speak through chattering teeth.

"Come in," The hut was wonderfully warm with a roaring fire in the hearth. Fang leapt up on Ginny first, then on Hazel, drenching her shoulders in slobbers as his tail wagged eagerly.

They talked a little about the quidditch training, with Hagrid sure Gryffindor would win the cup this year ("With yer brother as seeker, how can they no'?") and how the mandrakes were doing ("Bloomin' house parties. Can barely 'ear myself think at nigh'").

"I've not seen you around the grounds as much Hagrid," Ginny said as she held a mug of hot chocolate the size of a small barrel in both arms, "Have you been ill?"
"Nah," Hagrid suddenly looked very shifty, "Jus' been busy in the fores' is all. Some of the creatures are a bi'…unsettled."

"What creatures?" Hazel answered though she had a horrible idea.

"Jus' the same as before. All the stuff happenin' at the castle's…annoyed 'em." He clapped his hands together, "Bu' enough abou' tha'! How's your charm's comin' along, Hazel? I 'ear yer gettin' fairly good at hoverin' charms now."

January faded to February with no more attacks. It had been months now, so maybe the attacker really had decided enough was enough? Hazel had rather given up on trying to find the Chamber, the gremlin statue remained frustratingly solid anytime she went near it and there was no hope of finding any other clues after all this time. Atia still wasn't talking to her, that was her most pressing concern right now.

She and Ginny came down the stairs on the 14th of February and stopped dead in the entrance of the Great Hall. They must surely have taken a wrong turn.

The entire Hall had been decorated pink, bows and ribbons hung from every candle and hearted floated in midair. Harps played themselves along the edge of the hall and pink cloths lay on every table.

"This is different," Ginny had gone a little pink.

"It looks amazing!" Hazel said.

"No, it bloody does not!" Ron had come in behind her and looked like he'd just been hit by a train.

"It's lovely!" Hermione had gone as giggly as Hazel felt, "It's romantic."

"I'm going to be sick," Harry said.

Lockhart, he was the only teacher who looked happy with the decoration, had other ideas in mind. The worst of which, though it was close between that and the idea of asking Snape for a love potion, was the gang of dwarves he'd hired. They stormed around the school all day like hooligans, kicking open doors and shoving letters into people's faces.

They were certainly keen, as she watched three of them chase Oliver Wood down the Charms Corridor and rugby-tackle him to the ground to deliver his letter.

She was so distracted watching him struggle that she didn't notice the dwarf approaching, right up until he kicked her painfully on the shin.

"Ow!"

"Potter, Hazel?" He said grumpily, like a postman who'd just had his lunch stolen.

"Yes?" Her heart skipped a beat.

"Letter for you." He shoved it in her face and stormed off, kicking his way through the rest of the class.

"You got a card?" Ginny had been distracted since breakfast but was suddenly very excited.

There must have been a mistake. Who would send a valentine's day card to her?

"Well, open it!" Ginny said eagerly, "Did they write a name?"

It was a simple card, blank but for a heart on the front. Inside was equally a simple;

Keep your chin up, never forget how amazing you are.

Her heart skipped a beat as she read it over and over again.

"That's so romantic," Ginny swooned, "I wonder who sent it?"

"I don't know," She couldn't even think of anyone who would send one.

They were only safe from the attentions of the dwarves that night when they reached the common room. Even then, Wood stood guard over the portrait with a beaters bat in case any tried their luck.

"So," Fred said, clapping his hands together, "Did anyone get a visit from our mini-cupids?"

"Harry did," Ron snorted, "It sang him a song. It was absolutely dreadful."

Harry punched him in the arm while Fred and George laughed. Hazel glanced at Ginny, who was not laughing.

"Hazel got one too," she said but she looked like she was trying not to cry, "But there was no name on it."

"Maybe it was Slytherin's monster," Fred laughed.

"Yeah," said George, "Maybe it's feeling lonely."

"That's really not funny," said Hermione.

"Well, it sort of is," said Fred as he and George headed for the dormitories.

Harry shook his head and reached into his bag. He pulled out his History of Magic book and groaned.

"Oh no, I mustn't have put the lid back on my ink bottle properly. Look at it."

The book was ruined, every page coated with ink.

"Is there a spell to fix them?" He asked Hermione hopefully.

"Maybe. I'd need to check."

He emptied his bag. Every book was the same, soaked through and useless, all except one.

Ginny's Diary.

It had to be. How many other black, leatherbound books were there like this one in Hogwarts? That, and Ginny had gone a deathly pale.

"Is it ruined?" Ron asked, oblivious to Ginny's reaction.

Harry flicked through the pages, "Hey, there's no ink on any of the pages! Look!"

He held it up so they could all see. Sure enough, it was the only book not to be completely black with ink.

"Ginny, are you okay?" Hermione asked.

"I don't feel very well," Ginny said as she turned and ran for the dormitory.

"Do you want to check on her?" Hermione turned to Hazel.

Hazel followed Ginny without a word. How had Harry gotten Ginny's diary?

Ginny was sitting on her four-poster bed, pale as a sheet and rocking backwards and forwards.

"What's wrong?" Hazel asked.

"He has my diary," Ginny said numbly.

"Maybe he found it?" There was no way he would have stolen it, no way Harry would do something like that.

"You don't understand," Ginny's eyes were watering, "He has the diary. If he finds out how to work it…"

"But Tom wouldn't tell him anything, would he?"

"I don't know," she buried her head in her hands, "I don't know."

"Why don't you ask him for it back?"

"No!" Hazel jumped at the force of the word, "I can't! I need to get it back, but he can't know it's mine! Please!"

"Ginny," This was starting to get scary now, "Is everything okay?"

"Fine," She took a deep breath, "He just…he can't know it's mine."

"Okay," Hazel said, mind working furiously, "It's okay. I'll get it back for you."

"Thank you!" Ginny hugged her so tightly that she choked, "Thank you! It would mean so much to me!"

Hazel worried about how to get the diary all the next day. Could she sneak up to his room and steal it? That was a properly stupid idea, even if Harry kept it in the dormitory rather than in his bag, how was she supposed to steal it without anyone noticing? Besides, she wasn't going to steal from her brother. No way.

That left only one option really.

And somehow it felt even stupider.

She needed him to be on his own, which took a few days. Eventually she found him in the library behind a pile of books.

"Hey," He looked up with a smile.

"Hey," She tried to smile back but her heart was thumping furiously, "Where are Ron and Hermione?"

"Ron's in the Great Hall listening to the Chudley Cannons getting battered and I think Hermione's in the Common Room reading. Hey, wait until you hear about this!"
He gestured for her to sit down, which she did, before her legs collapsed.

"That diary from the other night? I found out how to work it!"
"You did?" Oh no…

"Yeah! It belonged to Tom Riddle! He was the Head Boy here when the Chamber of Secrets was last opened!"

Hazel felt like she'd been slapped.

"He showed me a flashback, I guess, to him catching the person who opened the Chamber!"

"No way," she was starting to shake, "Who was it?"

Harry's mouth snapped shut like a mousetrap.

"Harry," She pressed, "Who was it?"

"Promise not to tell anyone?"

"I promise."

"Hagrid."

Hazel went numb, "No."

"I saw it, Hazel. Tom showed me a memory from the diary. Hagrid was hiding the monster, trying to protect it."

"But Hagrid wouldn't hurt a fly. He could never attack a student."

"He didn't mean to, it was an accident! It was one of the monsters he was protecting got out of control. It's why he was expelled from Hogwarts."

"But that doesn't make sense."

Harry hesitated, "It sort of does. Hagrid has a thing for dangerous creatures."

"But he wouldn't let one of them attack a student. Never."

"I don't think he could stop it."

"It's not him," She shook her head, "I won't believe it."

"I don't think it's him either. I think whatever monster he let out went into hiding and now it's woken up again. Maybe someone else is controlling it now. Maybe…" He hesitated again, "Maybe he's protecting it."

She thought back to Hagrid's hut, when he had mentioned the creatures in the forest getting restless. Could it be because of the monster?

She would have to worry about that later. She had more important tasks right now.

"Do you still have the diary?"

He pulled it out of his bag.

"Did it tell you anything else?"

Harry looked incredulous, "Isn't that enough?"

"Yeah," She took a deep breath. How on earth was she supposed to say this without sounding like an idiot? "Harry, can I have the diary?"

"What? Why?"

"It's mine."

"Yours?" Harry frowned deeply, "When did you get it?"

"During the summer, in Diagon Alley. I thought I would buy a diary so I could write about my first year in Hogwarts."

"But I found this in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom."

"Yeah, someone took it out of my bag during the holidays," She was thinking very fast now, "I thought they'd just thrown it away on me."

Harry was quiet for a long time. His mind was racing, "Does it talk to you?"

"Yeah," She had to be very careful here. For Ginny's sake, "But I only ever wrote about school in it. I swear it didn't tell me about the Chamber or Hagrid, or anything!"

"Are you sure?"

"Promise," That part was true at least, but why hadn't Tom told Ginny about the Chamber of Secrets? Or Hagrid? Or was Ginny lying to her?

Focus on that later, just get the thing back now.

She stretched out her hands, "Please? I promise if he tells me anything else, I'll tell you first."

"He?"

"Sorry, habit."

Harry hesitated. Hazel forced herself to meet his eyes.

Please just give it back. For Ginny's sake, please give it back.

"Okay," He handed her the diary, "But if it tells you anything about the Chamber, or anything at all, you have to let me know."

"I promise," She let out a breath she hadn't realised she was holding. It felt like her heart had just started beating again.

She left the library as casually as she could. She barely registered where she was going, her thoughts were racing so much. As soon as she was in a corridor alone, she dropped to the ground and pulled a quill from her bag. Her hands were shaking as she opened the diary.

Why did you lie to us about the Chamber of Secrets?

The words melted away. She tapped her foot on the stone floor impatiently, hardly caring how cold or hard it was.

Tom took a frustratingly long time to answer. Eventually though, that familiar, swirling handwriting came to the page.

Hello Hazel. I did not lie, as I am incapable of doing so. I will not divulge what Ginny asked of me, but I was not able to answer her question about the Chamber of Secrets. I do not know it's location, or what monster lies within.

Hazel's handwriting was little more than a scrawl as she wrote back, digging deep into the paper in her temper.

But you said Hagrid opened the chamber. Why did you blame him?

Another long pause.

I cannot be sure that Rubeus opened the chamber. I only know that he had found the monster and made an ally of it. I do not believe he intended for people to get hurt and especially not to be killed, Hazel's blood ran cold, but he sheltered a dangerous, dark creature and he had to be stopped.

It made so much sense; Norbert, Fluffy…she hated it.

Why didn't you tell us all this earlier?

The letters faded away and Tom was much quicker to answer,

Hagrid was expelled from Hogwarts. He had his wand broken and he was made an outcast in wizarding society. He has been punished enough. I did not think his crimes needed to be brought up again, especially to someone who clearly holds him in high regards.

That anger surged within her again.

It's not him!

She didn't even wait for Tom to answer, and she slammed the diary closed.

She didn't care what Harry thought, she didn't care what Tom said. It wasn't Hagrid.

It just couldn't be.

AN: So sorry it's taken so long to get this chapter done, life's been super busy this weather!