The Hospital Wing had gradually grown quieter as the initial crisis passed. Colin Creevey rested comfortably in one of the beds, already looking far healthier than he had an hour earlier. Madam Pomfrey remained nearby, occasionally checking his condition with practiced efficiency. The rest of the castle remained unaware of the full details of what had happened, though rumors would undoubtedly begin spreading by morning. For now, however, a smaller group occupied a private side room connected to the Hospital Wing. Dumbledore had gathered the professors along with Mira, Draco, Theo, Blaise, and Daphne to discuss the situation. The atmosphere felt heavy despite the warmth of the room. Shadows danced across the walls from several floating lanterns. Outside the windows, darkness pressed against the glass. The castle seemed unusually quiet, as though Hogwarts itself were listening.
Dumbledore stood near the fireplace with his hands folded before him. McGonagall sat nearby, her expression troubled. Snape leaned against the wall with his arms crossed. Flitwick occupied a cushioned chair, his normally cheerful demeanor subdued. Even Professor Sprout appeared deeply concerned. The attack on Colin had transformed the Chamber of Secrets from an alarming possibility into an undeniable reality. Everyone present understood that. Nobody could dismiss it anymore. The school had been attacked twice. Students were no longer merely discussing a legend. They were living through one.
Daphne spoke first, unable to hold back her question any longer, “Headmaster… how is this happening again?”
Her voice was quiet but firm, carrying the disbelief shared by all of them. Theo shifted uneasily beside her, clearly trying to process everything without jumping to conclusions. Blaise said nothing, but his expression was unusually serious. Draco stood slightly closer to Mira, as if instinctively preparing for whatever truth might come next. Mira herself remained still, her thoughts already moving ahead of the conversation. The Whispering Balm Jade beneath her robes had gone silent again, but that silence felt less like peace and more like waiting. Dumbledore did not answer immediately. Instead, he looked towards the fire once more, as if grounding himself in the reality of what had already happened.
Finally, he spoke, “This is not the first time the Chamber of Secrets has been opened.”
The words landed heavily in the room.
McGonagall closed her eyes briefly.
Snape’s jaw tightened.
Daphne frowned.
Theo straightened.
Even Draco looked unsettled.
Dumbledore continued in a lower voice, carefully measured, “Fifty years ago, a similar series of attacks occurred within Hogwarts.”
The number alone seemed to make the situation feel more distant and yet more ominous at the same time. Mira listened carefully, her mind already trying to align timelines, identities, and possibilities. Fifty years. That placed the original incident firmly within a different generation. One that still had living consequences now. She felt Draco shift slightly beside her, clearly processing the same realization.
Daphne asked the question that followed naturally, “What happened then?”
Dumbledore hesitated.
That hesitation alone was enough to make the room feel colder.
“The then-Headmaster, Armando Dippet, seriously considered closing Hogwarts.” A pause, “The attacks caused panic throughout the school, "Another pause, “There was no clear understanding of who—or what—was responsible at the time.”
Theo frowned slightly, “So they didn’t catch whoever opened it?”
Dumbledore’s expression darkened faintly, “Eventually, someone was held responsible.”
The way he said it made several students exchange uneasy glances.
Mira felt a subtle shift in the room.
Something unspoken.
Something unfinished.
Daphne asked quietly, “Who?”
Dumbledore’s gaze lowered slightly, “Hagrid.”
The name struck the room like a dropped stone.
Draco blinked.
Theo froze.
Blaise’s expression tightened.
Daphne looked genuinely shocked.
Mira’s reaction, however, was different.
It wasn’t disbelief.
It was immediate analysis.
That didn’t fit.
Not with what she knew.
Not with what she had seen of Hagrid.
McGonagall spoke softly, her voice carrying restrained frustration, “Rubeus was a student at the time.”
Dumbledore nodded, “He was accused of opening the Chamber and unleashing the creature within.”
Silence followed.
A heavy, uncomfortable silence.
Dumbledore continued carefully, “As a result, his wand was snapped, and he was expelled.”
Draco’s expression darkened, “Expelled?”
Theo looked stunned.
Blaise frowned deeply.
Dumbledore exhaled slowly before continuing, and this time his gaze drifted toward the window, where the darkness pressed faintly against the glass. “I did what I could,” he said, and there was something quietly burdened in his tone. “I argued against full condemnation. I insisted that Hagrid remain within Hogwarts grounds in some capacity.” A faint pause followed, one that felt like a reluctant admission. “The decision that followed was… unconventional.”
McGonagall turned slightly toward him, already understanding where this was going.
“He was permitted to remain,” Dumbledore continued, “as gamekeeper and caretaker under my supervision.”
The room shifted again, the revelation reframing everything they thought they knew about Hagrid’s presence at Hogwarts. It had never been a simple job or act of charity. It had been containment and protection layered together in uneasy balance. A way to keep him close, to prevent complete exile, and perhaps—though Dumbledore did not say it aloud—to keep an eye on what remained of a boy the system had already decided to discard.
Mira absorbed this in silence, her mind reassembling the past in a new configuration. The kindness she had always associated with Hagrid’s role at Hogwarts now carried a deeper, more complicated weight. Not rejection, but survival through compromise. Not freedom, but a second existence shaped by someone else’s intervention. She glanced briefly toward Draco, then Theo, then the professors, seeing the same recalculation reflected in their expressions. Even Snape’s gaze had shifted slightly, no longer analytical in a detached sense, but focused with a sharper, colder understanding of institutional failure. The idea that Hagrid had been expelled, stripped of his wand, and still remained within Hogwarts walls only reinforced what Mira had already begun to suspect about the nature of justice fifty years ago. It had not been clean. It had not been fair. And it had not been complete. Somewhere beneath all of it, a frightened orphan named Tom Riddle had found opportunity in chaos—and a boy named Hagrid had carried the consequences ever since.
Daphne whispered, “That doesn’t sound right…”
Mira’s mind sharpened further.
Hagrid.
The half-giant groundskeeper.
The man who treated magical creatures like family rather than tools.
The man who would risk his life for a Hippogriff or a dragon hatchling without hesitation.
It didn’t align.
Not even slightly.
She spoke quietly, but firmly, “It couldn’t have been him.”
All eyes turned to her.
Mira remained calm, “Hagrid doesn’t speak Parseltongue.” A pause, “And he would never willingly release a creature dangerous enough to attack students inside Hogwarts.”
Her voice remained steady.
Analytical.
Certain.
Draco nodded immediately beside her, “Exactly.”
Dumbledore studied her for a long moment.
Snape’s eyes narrowed slightly, as though intrigued by her reasoning.
Mira continued, “There’s no logical consistency.”
Her thoughts moved quickly now.
Faster.
Fitting pieces together.
Patterns forming.
Then something clicked.
Her gaze shifted slightly, focusing inward rather than outward.
A memory.
A detail.
A gap in the narrative.
Slowly, she looked back at Dumbledore.
“Tom Riddle.”
The name immediately changed the atmosphere.
Dumbledore’s expression tightened ever so slightly.
Mira continued, “What was his reaction when he heard that Hogwarts was going to be closed?”
The question hung in the air.
McGonagall looked toward Dumbledore.
Snape did as well.
Dumbledore sighed quietly, “Sixteen-year-old Tom Riddle was… deeply concerned.” A pause, “He did not wish to return to the orphanage he came from during the summers.”
Theo frowned slightly, “That’s it?”
Dumbledore nodded, “That was his primary concern at the time. To Tom, Hogwarts was home."
Silence again.
But this time, Mira’s thoughts were already fully formed.
The pieces aligned cleanly now.
Too cleanly.
She spoke slowly.
Measured.
“It makes sense.”
Everyone turned toward her again.
Mira continued, her voice steady but certain, “If the Chamber was opened by Tom Riddle himself…” A pause, “And someone needed to be blamed…” Her eyes narrowed slightly. “Then Hagrid becomes the perfect scapegoat.”
Draco immediately understood.
His expression shifted.
Theo slowly began to follow.
Blaise’s eyes widened slightly.
Mira continued, “Riddle would have had motive.” A pause, “He wouldn’t want to be sent back to the orphanage.” Another pause, “And he wouldn’t want suspicion falling on him.” Her voice lowered slightly, “So he threatens Hagrid.”
The conclusion formed clearly now.
“Frames him.” A final pause, “And ensures he can continue operating without being suspected. But I assume that he had to close the Chamber after Hagrid was expelled or else he would be the next suspect.”
The room went silent.
Dumbledore watched her carefully now.
McGonagall’s expression turned grave.
Snape’s eyes narrowed further, but not in disagreement.
In calculation.
Theo exhaled slowly, “So… Hagrid was innocent.”
Dumbledore did not answer immediately.
That silence was answer enough.
Mira’s thoughts settled, but her expression remained focused.
Because now the implications extended beyond history.
If Tom Riddle had done it once…
And his Horcrux was active now…
Then the pattern was repeating.
Only this time—
There was no guarantee they would stop it before it escalated further.
ns216.73.217.14da2
and then Add to home screen.