Capítulo 78: Chapter 78: The Real Heir of Slytherin
The scene around them shifted, immediately immersing Sherlock into a rapid succession of events that unfolded before them. A highly perturbed Hagrid was taken away by an Auror from the Ministry of Magic. He glimpsed Headmaster Dippet addressing the press with the representatives from the Daily Prophet, swiftly dismissing the existence of the Chamber of Secrets and attributing the tragic student death to a maligned accident.
Suddenly Sherlock was being transported to the Wizengamot, where the stern face of the Chief Warlock was unmistakable. He watched as a young Hagrid was declared guilty, stripped off his magical privileges, his wand snapped cruelly before the audience in the courtroom. After this whirlwind of scenes had flashed past, a new poignant scene came into focus.
It was a stormy night, and Dumbledore stood immovable outside a rundown cottage in a rund-down village. He held a slick, black umbrella that reflected the silver moonlight, the wild rain thudding relentlessly on it. To both Sherlock and Dumbledore, the entire world seemed metaphysical, as the raindrops simply fell through them.
Inside the barely sheltered cottage, Hagrid, shrouded in rough, worn blankets was in the throes of despair, shivering as he pled his innocence to a considerably younger-looking Dumbledore. He huddled uncomfortably in the cold, damp shack, the heaving sobs reduced him to a despairing, abandoned hound. Observing the state of Hagrid, Dumbledore's austere face softened, inquiring in a quiet voice, "And your family, Hagrid?"
"Mum, she left many years ago... Me dad.. bless his soul, he couldn't last through this winter, he couldn't... Taken by sickness, he was, and I had to lay him to rest in the woods... I'm truly glad, I am, that... he didn't have to witness me getting expelled... it would've been too much for him..." Hagrid broke, the anguish surfacing through his sobs.
Witnessing the raw pain that Hagrid was experiencing, Dumbledore became resolute. "You need to trust me, Hagrid. What creature were you keeping at Hogwarts?"
Hagrid's eyes were a battleground of conflict, trembling with the fear that exposing Aragog could bring about its end. "You can trust me, Hagrid!" Dumbledore urged, the sincerity seeping into his voice, "I can help, but I need to know everything."
Hagrid, finally warmed in the light of Dumbledore's words, revealed the truth. "It's an Acromantula! Aragog is a giant Acromantula!"
Dumbledore, his eyes reflecting his knowledge and wisdom, was well informed about the characteristics of the creature. "And, where is Aragog now?"
Hagrid remained quiet for a moment, then called out into the rain-saturated darkness, "Aragog! Come here, Aragog!" From the misty night emerged a colossal spider, which Sherlock recognized as Aragog, moving to face Dumbledore; its massive form was as large as Hagrid himself. To the shock of everyone, except Hagrid, it spoke human language.
"I am no harm to the human kin. Hagrid is a friend. I have not, and will never harm humans!" Aragog protested.
Taking note of an injury Aragog bore at its rear, Dumbledore recognized it as one he had inflicted earlier at Hogwarts. Assessing the cause of the girl's death and the capacity of this giant spider, Dumbledore affirmed that Hagrid was indeed innocent.
In the cold downpour of the stormy night, Dumbledore drew his wand. As Hagrid's horror was mirrored on the spider as it braced itself for attack, Dumbledore surprised them by casting a Waterproof Charm on Hagrid instead.
"I will take you with me, Hagrid, and find the two of you a new home," Dumbledore reassured, extending his hand towards Hagrid. After some hesitation, the despairing Hagrid reached out and held Dumbledore's hand. The scene stilled momentarily.
The scene animated again, showing Dumbledore's laborious efforts to bring Hagrid back to Hogwarts, despite faculty opposition. Headmaster Dippet's silence on the matter helped Dumbledore advocate Hagrid for the role of Gamekeeper at Hogwarts.
All at once, everything fragmented and Sherlock found himself back in the familiar environment of Dumbledore's office at Hogwarts. Dumbledore had already resumed his place behind his desk, sipping on his warm tea.
"So, Hagrid isn't the Heir of Slytherin, but the student who reported him, this Prefect named Tom, is," Sherlock concluded, settling back in his seat situated right opposite Dumbledore.
Dumbledore put his teacup down slowly, revealing Tom's true identity. "The student's full name is Tom Riddle, though undoubtedly he is better known by another name - Voldemort."
Sherlock paused, recalling clear images of what Voldemort looked like. Who would've predicted that the handsome, poised boy would metamorphose into an abhorrent entity, half-man half-ghost.
"So, it was actually him! Voldemort is the Heir of Slytherin!" Sherlock deduced with sudden realization.
Dumbledore's face took on a grave look, "Yes, Tom's lineage does trace back to Slytherin blood. His father indeed was a Muggle, but through his maternal line, he descends from Slytherin."
"I only held my suspicions at first, but as Tom started posing a threat to the safety and security of the entire wizarding world, I investigated further, confirming that Tom Riddle was indeed the one responsible for opening the Chamber of Secrets. It's likely that he is the only one who knows the entrance to the Chamber."
Sherlock fervently pieced together the details, "But Tom himself couldn't possibly be within Hogwarts, so there must've been an agent that opened the chamber this time." He gave Dumbledore a piercing look, "It's the diary, isn't it? That's what he left behind! You initially thought Lucius Malfoy had planted the diary in Hogwarts, considering all the Death Eaters, he was the one closest to the Dark Lord."
Dumbledore rested his hands solemnly on his desk, his voice serious and low, "But even Lucius Malfoy is unsure of who the present holder of diary is..."
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