Dumbledore stood at the door, watching Hagrid emerge from the office. His hand still rested on Hagrid's shoulder. It was not heavy, but once that hand pressed down on his shoulder, Hagrid felt his whole body stop swaying.
"Come on," Dumbledore said. "I'll go with you to build a hut by the edge of the Forbidden Forest. You'll live there from now on."
Hagrid lowered his head and looked at his boots. They were still caked with mud from the Forbidden Forest. The mud had dried and cracked into little brown, broken puzzle pieces that would fall away at the slightest touch. He did not wipe it off.
"Hagrid—Hagrid!"
It was not an illusion. Harry was calling him. Harry's hand still rested on his fist, his fingers clenched tightly around Hagrid's knuckles. Hagrid opened his eyes and saw only this narrow, windowless cell, lit by blue torches like the depths of the sea.
"You didn't go into that corridor, did you?" Harry's voice was low but steady. "When Moaning Myrtle died, you didn't see the killer?"
Hagrid shook his head. "No. By the time I learned that Moaning Myrtle had been killed, I was already in Headmaster Armando Dippet's office." His hands were shaking violently, like a machine about to fall apart while still desperately trying to run.
"You said you heard footsteps when you returned to the castle?" Harry asked.
Hagrid nodded. "There were lots of people. The footsteps were chaotic, hurried. I was afraid they'd think I did it. I was afraid—" His throat moved as he swallowed that word. "I ran back through the little door beside the Chamber of Secrets, but they blocked me. That Tom Riddle accused me. He said—I was the one who opened the Chamber of Secrets, that I killed Moaning Myrtle. He