0294 Denizens of the Crater

Finally, they reached the top of the long hillside. Now, before them lay a vast crater-like depression.

'Ron is really lucky!'

Upon seeing what was in the pit, a nonsensical thought popped into Harry's head.

Spiders—not the small ones the size of fingernails found in cupboards, but massive ones as big as carriage horses, with eight legs, eight green eyes, and bodies covered in black, bristly hair.

In the crater, there were at least hundreds of such spiders, constantly moving their eight legs, making a click-clack noise. The ground was littered with animal carcasses and white cocoons, some of which were still violently shaking, indicating that the creatures inside had not yet died.

Gulp— Harry swallowed hard, and within a few breaths, his forehead was beaded with sweat, and he felt Hermione's hand in his palm suddenly become damp.

Click-clack-click-clack!

The two young wizards instinctively took a step back, and at that moment, the giant spiders in the pit seemed to receive some signal and viciously snapped their pincers together. Harry no longer hoped to find even a finger of Peter; now, his priority was how to keep Hermione and himself alive.

But as they turned to flee, their bodies stiffened, and goosebumps covered their skin.

Five or six giant spiders had somehow sneaked up behind them, blocking their retreat.

Dozens of green compound eyes looked down on Harry and Hermione from above. The giant spiders waved their pincers in the air, making a high-frequency click-clack sound. Hermione suddenly realized that this noise seemed to be a special language —a language of darkness spoken only by the forest's most fearsome denizens.

"Do you think Dumbledore's magic might work again, Harry?"

Harry's face was ashen. He drew his wand and held it in front of him, but he couldn't figure out how to use the stick in his hand against these behemoths.

"Oh, little wizards from the castle?"

Suddenly, from the bottom of the pit, behind a veil of web-like mist, came a tired, old voice, accompanied by a heavy, metallic click-clack sound.

"Besides them, no other wizards have followed, right?"

The old voice asked warily, and the giant spiders in front of Harry and Hermione moved their pincers, answering the question.

"Bring them here!"

The voice from the pit said suddenly, filled with anger.

Harry was about to resist, but in a moment of distraction, his and Hermione's view spun, and they were pinched up by a spider's two large pincers. The spider moved very fast, blocking their mouths, preventing them from even screaming.

The path ahead cleared, the lurking spiders parting to allow passage to their captives. In mere seconds, Harry and Hermione were presented before the arachnid overlord, a behemoth perched upon a throne of webs, its girth rivaling that of an elephant. The spider's body and eight legs were dark gray, and it seemed to be blind, as each of its eyes was covered with a white film.

"Look there, Harry—"

As Harry stared dumbfounded at the spider, Hermione pointed out in despair.

It was Peter! He was hanging upside down not far to the left of the hemispherical web, with a slightly smaller spider crawling around him, rapidly weaving a web.

Peter's mouth was gagged with a web, unable to make a sound, and his lower body was trapped in a white cocoon that was about to form. His arms seemed to be bleeding, and the bright red blood had stained a large area of the white cocoon.

Seeing Harry and Hermione so close, Peter's small green eyes were filled with pleading and fear, and his eyes kept falling to the ground with a clattering sound. 

'You brought this upon yourself!' Harry expressed his inner satisfaction with his eyes.

In the shadowy depths of the Forbidden Forest, a scene of quiet horror unfolded. The eight-eyed spider, a master of its craft, worked with a precision that belied its monstrous size. Its pincers, delicate as a weaver's tools yet formidable in their strength, danced in the dim light, spinning a cocoon of white threads. These threads, finer than the finest silk yet stronger than steel, cascaded downwards in a relentless tide, enveloping Peter in a shroud of white. The cocoon spread with a speed that was mesmerizing, yet terrifying, as it crept over his mouth, sealing his fate with each passing second.

Harry, his heart pounding in his chest, could only watch in frozen horror as Peter's struggles grew weaker, his eyes—a mirror to his soul—flashing with the rawest of fears before they were obscured by the spider's handiwork. The satisfaction that had once warmed Harry's heart now dissipated, leaving in its wake a sorrow so profound it threatened to consume him.

The giant spider, Aragog, remained a silent sentinel throughout this macabre display. Its many eyes gleamed with a cold intelligence, and one might imagine it took a perverse pleasure in the fear it wrought upon the young wizards who had dared to trespass into its domain.

"This place has always been off-limits to humans," 

Click-clack, click-clack— Aragog's voice was a whisper of death, each word punctuated by the sinister click-clack of its pincers. The sound echoed through the forest, a chilling reminder of the spider's power and the fate that awaited those who trespassed.

Hermione's sobs were soft, yet they carried a weight of despair that filled the air. "We're terribly sorry," she wept, her voice barely a whisper against the cacophony of the forest's nocturnal chorus. "We didn't mean to offend you, Mr. Spider. We…we are here to track down Scabbers. He is a criminal, and we need to take him back to the castle."

Aragog's response was as cold as the moonlight that filtered through the trees. "We don't care about wizards' affairs," it hissed, its mouthparts quivering with disdain. "We've always lived here, not disturbing those in the castle, nor wishing to be disturbed. But you always break the truce, disrupting our peaceful life. I'm sorry, young human wizards, but you can only die here."

The plea that escaped Harry's lips was born of desperation. "Wait!" he cried, but it was too late. The giant spider's command had been given, and Harry felt the crushing embrace of its pincers around his waist. A wave of nausea swept over him, choking him into a fit of coughing. "Cough, don't, please don't do this, Mr. Spider. If we have offended you, I am willing to stay here, but please let go—"

"I am not called Mr. Spider!" The forest was restless tonight, and now several humans had trespassed into its territory. Aragog, irritated, waved his large pincers, creating a gust of evil wind, "I have a name—Aragog—and you would do well to remember it!"

The revelation struck Harry and Hermione like a bolt of lightning. 

'Aragog?!' Harry and Hermione simultaneously stopped struggling, their eyes meeting in mid-air, both seeing the astonishment in each other's eyes. 

They had heard this name before, from Hagrid's mouth.

'Could it be that this spider had a connection with Hagrid?' they wondered in unison.

"Hold on, Mr. Aragog!" Hermione's voice was a choked whisper, her eyes brimming with tears. "You know Hagrid, don't you, Mr. Aragog? We are his friends, he sent us to catch Peter!"

Harry and Hermione thought that by claiming to be Hagrid's friends, the terrifying giant spider would calm down a bit, but unexpectedly, it had the opposite effect and their hopes were dashed as swiftly as they had risen. Aragog's reaction was not one of recognition or calm, but of fury.

"Hagrid's friends? liars!" Aragog's eight milky eyes spun wildly in their sockets, and his large pincers cast shadows in the air. He was no longer the sleepy, weary figure but was now moving furiously within the dome-shaped web, his steel-needle-like body hair standing on end with rage.

Hermione's face was a mask of terror, her whispered question barely audible. "Did I say something wrong?"

"Perhaps this spider has a grudge against Hagrid!" Harry clenched his teeth, the pain making it difficult for him to breathe.

"Hagrid never brings people here!" Aragog's roar was a strange and hoarse sound, devoid of humor and filled with a venomous anger. It's strange for a spider to roar in a hoarse voice, but Harry and Hermione couldn't find it funny because In its wrath, the spider raised its massive torso, supported by several legs, eclipsing the moonlight with its shadow—a dark omen that seemed to swallow the very light of the moon.

"There is one exception!" Aragog's voice thundered with indignation. "Last year, Hagrid brought a friend here, asking about some matters. I didn't tell anything, and that wizard nearly killed me!"

Cough, cough— Seeing the two small figures below in a daze, Bryan, floating above, scratched the back of his head, looking somewhat embarrassed.

Hmm. After a moment of contemplation, Bryan raised his head, his piercing gaze searching the dark forest for something useful. Then, his gaze paused, and he raised his eyebrows in surprise.

"We're so unlucky, Harry," Hermione lamented, her voice tinged with sadness.

"We can only rely on ourselves, Hermione!"

Harry gasped for breath, turning to look at the eight-eyed spider waiting for Aragog to finish his tantrum, and shouted, "Petrificus Totalus!"

Creak, creak!

A fresh breeze hit them, and the spider's limbs made a chilling rustling noise. Then, Harry and Hermione felt the strong force around their waists dissipate.

"I didn't expect—" Harry's words trailed off, his mind reeling from the unexpected turn of events.

The pair seized their newfound freedom, tumbling to the forest floor with a mixture of relief and disbelief. Harry's mind raced, recalling his previous attempt at the spell on a werewolf, which had failed miserably. Yet here, against all odds, it had worked. 

Harry voiced his thoughts to Hermione, "I thought it wouldn't work, I failed when I tried it on the werewolf before!"

"I remember now!" Hermione clutched her chest and spoke rapidly, "These creatures are Acromantulas. Professor Watson used them last year for a practical lesson with Fred and George's class. The professor told them that Acromantulas have low resistance to magic, even a first-year wizard's spell can defeat them if it hits!"

"That makes things much easier!" Harry exclaimed excitedly.

The mention of "Professor Watson" seemed to strike a chord with Aragog, whose formidable body tensed, his grotesque head bowing as if weighed down by the name. "Could it be Bryan Watson?" the spider murmured, its voice a soft, dangerous whisper that belied the chaos of its thoughts.

'Uh. Could it be that Professor Watson was the one who nearly killed Aragog last year..... He wouldn't want to capture Aragog for class, would he?'

Harry and Hermione exchanged a glance, a silent communication passing between them. The same question hung in the air, unspoken yet understood.

"You are that wizard's students—" Aragog's voice rose again, sharp and filled with venomous hatred. His movements were slow, deliberate, as he crawled along the intricate webbing of his domain. "I'm sorry, human children, I can't let you two die so easily—"

"Do it, Hermione!" Harry's patience had worn thin. Since there was no point in talking to this old spider, Seizing the moment while it rambled, Harry shouted decisively.

In the face of danger, Hermione's reliability shone like a beacon. Her wand became an extension of her will, casting spells with a fluid grace that belied the urgency of the situation. The silk that held Peter aloft was severed with surgical precision, and the giant eight-eyed spider next to Peter hasn't had time to react before the Petrification spell(Petrificus-Totalus) froze it in place!

"You dare!" Aragog's roar was a piercing shriek that echoed through the forest, a call to arms for his offspring. But before he could muster his forces, a chill ran down his spine, halting his command.

A sharp branch, quivering with potential, rested against Aragog's head—a silent threat that spoke louder than words.

Hermione rushed over, dragging the white cocoon that enveloped Peter, but the task was too strenuous for a young witch, and Peter, unable to see the commotion outside, struggled violently.

"Come and help me, Harry!"

Sweat soaked through the gauze wrapped around her forehead wound, and Hermione stamped her feet in frustration.

Sometimes Hermione was frighteningly clever, but occasionally, she could be as slow and clueless as Neville.

"Why don't you use magic, Hermione?"

Harry didn't dare to take his eyes off Aragog, but hearing the commotion, he knew Hermione was confused.

"Oh!"

With a start, Hermione smacked her forehead in annoyance realizing her oversight. A quick spell later, the cocoon floated effortlessly to Harry's side, guided by her deft magical touch.

"But how do we leave this place, Harry?" Hermione's question was tinged with fear.

But their predicament was far from over. Behind them, a legion of eight-eyed spiders, inhabitants of the vast meteorite crater, had encircled the young wizards. Their collective clicking was a menacing chorus that filled the night, a reminder of the peril that surrounded them.

"Order them to back off!" Harry demanded, his voice steady despite the danger. He knew that Aragog, the leader of this arachnid tribe, held sway over his kin. With a subtle movement of his wand, Harry applied pressure, the sharp point rotating against Aragog's head with a silent promise of violence.

"Impossible—" Aragog's response was bitter, his words a declaration of defiance. "You won't be able to leave this place tonight; you will become the nourishment for hatching my descendants."

Harry's frown deepened at the spider's stubbornness. He had not expected such resistance, even in the face of death.

"Don't kill it, Harry!" Hermione's urgent plea broke through his thoughts. "Have you forgotten? This spider knows Hagrid, it's Hagrid's friend."

"Yes, I haven't forgotten!" 

Harry's temples throbbed, feeling the situation was tricky. He had only intended to scare Aragog, never actually planning to kill it, but Hagrid's formidable friend was determined to keep him and Hermione there, putting them in a difficult predicament!

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