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Ron's words were blunt, but they made Hagrid hesitate. Without Tom around, he never would've let Harry and the others walk into danger. But after experiencing Tom's teleport firsthand, he had to admit that as long as the cat was with them, their safety was basically guaranteed.
Plus, he really didn't want to go down in history as the guy who helped You-Know-Who come back. His rock-solid resolve started to crack.
"And Hagrid, look—Voldemort's already so weak he couldn't even fire off a proper Killing Curse earlier. We drove him off in the forest, remember? We're not trying to kill him. We just need to make sure he doesn't get his hands on the Sorcerer's Stone."
Harry pressed the advantage.
"Fine… you've convinced me," Hagrid muttered, shoulders slumping. "But you kids be careful. That door's too small for me—I can't follow you in there. Otherwise I'd never let you go alone!"
"Of course. Thanks, Hagrid," Harry said with a grin.
[We done talking? If we're done, let's move.]
Tom yawned, looking bored as hell at the whole scene.
He didn't tell Hagrid he could've teleported the half-giant inside if he really wanted to. He also didn't mention that Dumbledore was probably lurking nearby, watching their every move.
Honestly, Tom had zero interest in playing along with a script someone else had written. The only reason he was sticking around was to see what would happen if he just straight-up deleted Voldemort's soul fragment.
"Of course. Oh, right, Tom—those invisibility bedsheets of yours—"
Tom gave Harry a slow question-mark look. He could teleport them anywhere. Why the hell was Harry still thinking about sneaking around? Just pop straight to the objective.
"Well… there might be more spots later where we'll need your help, so the less magic you burn, the better," Harry explained.
Tom stayed quiet. If that's what Harry wanted, fine. He pulled out two more white sheets and tossed one to Harry's group and the other to Hagrid.
[You guys walk. I'll meet you there~]
Before Harry could reply, Tom vanished.
The rest of them exchanged glances, then started trudging up the stairs toward the fourth-floor restricted area like good little students.
When Harry and the others finally reached the fourth-floor corridor and met up with Tom, they could already hear Fluffy's deep, rumbling growls echoing down the hall.
Sure enough, the heavy wooden door that was usually sealed shut was wide open. The three-headed dog was twisting and snarling inside the room.
"You lot go on ahead," Hagrid said. "I'll stay here and keep an eye on Fluffy. Watch yourselves."
He pulled out a battered flute, put it to his lips, and started playing. The tune was awful and completely off-key, but the moment the notes hit the air, Fluffy swayed for a second, then dropped to the floor with a heavy thud and started snoring.
Harry and the others nodded, pulled open the trapdoor, and stared down into the pitch-black drop.
Ron swallowed hard. "You can't see anything down there. No ladder, no nothing. If we're going down, we're gonna have to jump."
"But the problem is—"
"I'll go first!"
[I'll go first.]
Tom's sign and Harry's voice overlapped. Before Harry could finish, Tom waved a paw.
[What are you jumping for? You trying to die? What if there's nothing at the bottom? What if Quirrell set up some trap?]
"But we can't just—"
[I just said there's no need to jump.]
Without waiting, Tom reached behind him and yanked George—the owl—straight out of thin air into his paws.
(Be a good boy, George. Fly us down.)
The owl stared at him with those big, adorable eyes, clearly done with his cat owner's nonsense. Most days Tom didn't even need him. The one time he did, it was always some rule-breaking stunt.
First he made George deliver him like a package, then he used him to hunt down pets—now he wasn't even bothering with the packaging anymore?
Still, what could George do? He was stuck with this lunatic for an owner. So he clamped his talons onto Tom's shoulder and dove straight down the hole.
Harry and the others watched with their jaws on the floor. "Can you even use an owl like that?!"
"Probably… not?"
They thought about their own owls—either too small or too old—and quietly dropped the idea.
A moment later George flew back up, grabbed Harry and Ron in his talons, and carried them down too.
Down below, Tom—now standing on solid ground—winced and rubbed his shoulder. He was positive George had done that on purpose. The bird was learning bad habits!
I only keep him around so he can carry me—
Tom grumbled to himself. But feeling the cold stone under his paws, he was actually glad he'd gone first. If Harry had jumped, he might've ended up as Harry-pancake.
"Still pretty dark down here."
Tom fished a lightbulb out of his fur, paused, then put it away and pulled out a glowing green stick instead.
(Magic world. Better to light it with magic.)
He nodded, satisfied, at the green "lighting charm" in his paw.
---
"Thanks, Tom. If it weren't for you, I really would've jumped," Harry said once his feet were on solid ground. He wiped the cold sweat off his forehead, looking relieved. He really had been about to leap.
[No problem. Once everyone's down, we'll head out.]
Tom waved it off.
"Sounds good—wait, what the hell is that in your hand?"
Only now did Harry notice what Tom was using for light. The thing looked way too familiar.
[This? It's the lighting charm Voldemort left behind earlier. Seemed like a waste to just leave it lying around, so I picked it up.]
He gave the green stick a little shake, looking proud of his resourcefulness.
Harry's face went through about five different emotions at once.
Voldemort's lighting charm? When the hell did that guy ever use a lighting charm? He only cast two spells back there—one Stunning Spell and one—
"Merlin's smelly socks… what the hell is that thing?!"
Harry's eyes widened in horror as the realization hit.
"That's not a lighting charm at all—that's the Killing Curse Voldemort fired earlier!"