A dark red mark, tinged with black and slightly larger than an adult wizard's palm, was branded on the leg of the Acromantula. The pattern depicted a skull with a serpent slithering from its mouth.
Melvin casually rested his wand on the giant spider's head, unconcerned by its reaction. He crouched down, examining the mark under the glow of floating blue flames. His dark eyes gleamed, occasionally betraying a thoughtful expression.
Aragog, the Acromantula bearing the mark, lay sprawled on the ground, its black-gray bristles standing on end. Its seven other legs trembled, and its mandibles clacked rhythmically.
Melvin gently traced the mark on its foreleg. The surrounding chitin was smooth, but the mark felt rough, like sandpaper, as if it had been ground into the surface. The green glow in the skull and serpent's eyes had faded, no longer as vivid as when it was first applied.
The Dark Mark wasn't just a surface tattoo—it was a magical imprint bound to the soul of its bearer. It served as a communication system between Voldemort and his Death Eaters, used for marking locations, sending warnings, and verifying identities.
The Dark Mark created by Voldemort carried his unique soul and dark magic signature, which Melvin couldn't replicate. The mark on Aragog was merely a simplified version with basic functions.
Headmaster Dippet had been right to deny Riddle a teaching post—he wasn't cut out to be a professor.
Melvin studied the mark, murmuring, "The foundation of this tattoo is complete, but the core is still empty. It can easily be filled once Voldemort returns. But don't worry—he wouldn't bother branding beasts like you."
Aragog shakily raised a foreleg, its other seven legs collapsing beneath it, too afraid to respond.
"When Hagrid was young," Melvin continued, "he told me he'd share what he learned in class with you every day. Dumbledore, his Transfiguration professor, loved to lecture on life and morality. Hagrid even read his father's letters to you…"
Lowering Aragog's leg, Melvin stowed his wand. "You must've learned *something*, right?"
At the wizard's words, the elderly Acromantula recalled its early days in the castle, hidden in a cupboard.
To Aragog, Hagrid was a devoted caretaker. Fresh from the egg, it could survive on table scraps—breadcrumbs at first, then meat pies, chops, and eventually bloody raw meat. Hagrid, risking discovery, would claim he was hungry due to his size and smuggle food in his pockets.
Raising a young Acromantula consumed nearly all of Hagrid's free time. He treated it as a friend, and since Acromantulas could speak, their conversations often drifted to classroom lessons. Aragog had indeed learned much of what wizards called knowledge.
How to handle dangerous creatures in the Forbidden Forest, communicate with gentler magical beasts, store food, or build a winter nest…
In its early years in the Forest, this knowledge had greatly benefited its colony.
Hagrid sometimes spoke of his parents—his giantess mother who abandoned them, and his short wizard father who leapt onto a cabinet in joy when Hagrid got his Hogwarts letter.
His father died during Hagrid's second year, the same year Aragog hatched.
Hagrid would cry and laugh when talking about it, which Aragog found tiresome.
Later, when Hagrid was expelled, he said it was a blessing his father hadn't lived to see it.
For a time, Aragog had longed for that kind of bond. Then Hagrid found it a mate, and it produced over a hundred eggs, hatching a nestful in three months.
To feed them, Aragog roamed the Forest's depths, fighting dangerous creatures and deceiving gentler ones. It once nearly provoked a unicorn, getting chased by two herds until Hagrid intervened to smooth things over.
When winter came, half the nest froze to death. Aragog felt no grief or tears like Hagrid—it felt relieved, even learning not to breed in autumn.
That was about all it had learned from humans.
Aragog pressed its head to the ground, blind but signaling submission to avoid angering this young, slightly sinister professor.
"Compared to the centaurs and unicorns, who've built their own civilizations in the Forest, you Acromantulas are just savage beasts," Melvin said, shaking his head. He didn't expect a profound response, merely tapping Aragog's foreleg with his wand.
*Crack…*
The hard chitin snapped, and Aragog convulsed in pain but remained prostrate, not daring to react.
The severed leg hit the ground, erupting in orange-black flames. The chitin and flesh burned to ash in the silent Fiendfyre, the dark red mark flickering before dissolving into gray-black smoke.
"From now on, keep your colony from harming any human children, or you and your descendants will burn in this pit. Understood?"
Aragog, enduring the agony, replied respectfully, "I obey your command."
After a moment of silence, with no sound or vibration in its web, Aragog knew the professor had left. Its legs slowly propped it up, and it began to move.
…
*Incendio!*
*Ventus!*
The sunken nest echoed with the young witch's spellcasting.
Flames sparked by magic hit the Acromantula's body, igniting its dry, bristly hairs. Bright orange fire flowed along the gaps in its chitin, searing its soft head and abdomen. The smell of roasted protein filled the air as the beast's flesh charred.
The scent of meat mingled with screams and roars, drowned by the clatter of colliding legs. Thick webs surged from all sides of the steep slope. The giant spiders, seasoned Forest hunters, lurked behind their webs, poised to strike once the three young wizards were ensnared.
But no webs reached them. Still a distance away, the webs caught fire.
A whirlwind carried the flames, engulfing more webs and spiders, forming a circular fire wall. It wasn't large or loud, but reckless spiders that charged it burned like moths, retreating in agony.
Some lucky spiders broke through, only to be repelled by spells, some dazed, others with cracked chitin.
*Repello!*
Harry and Ron's faces glowed in the firelight—one resolute, the other pale, his eyes twitching.
"Insects fear fire, and these spiders are no different!" Harry shouted, repelling two charging beasts. "Hermione, their hairs burn easily, so they're scared of flames. Let's move the fire circle and break out!"
"Spiders are arachnids," Hermione corrected, steering the whirlwind to control the fire's spread.
"Now's not the time for that!" Harry groaned.
"Breaking out won't work. This nest's slope is hundreds of meters—we'd need half an hour to climb, and they'd chase us outside," Hermione said, struggling to stay calm. "We need to push deeper, save Professor Levent. Only he can get us out."
"But his wand's broken!"
"Professor Levent can cast wandlessly!"
The nest echoed with their chants as mist cleared, replaced by dry, acrid smoke. The Acromantulas regrouped, no longer charging recklessly into the flames.
The rhythmic clacking of their legs signaled a growing unease, and the trio felt the mounting pressure.
"Watch out! They're digging!" Harry and Hermione shouted in unison.
The fire barrier was breached.
Like a sudden summer storm, clods of earth and stones rained down from all sides, pelting the pit's center and breaking the fiery circle. The flames couldn't ignite the soil, which smothered the burning webs, extinguishing the barrier.
After a few uneven barrages, the pit's floor thickened by several feet, forming a flat platform.
The three young wizards stood exposed, like lambs before a swarm of Acromantulas.
Despite the lingering warmth of the flames, Hermione felt a chill envelop her. She stared, frozen, as the spiders closed in, acutely aware of their weakness and powerlessness.
They'd thought they could do what even Dumbledore couldn't—uncover the truth behind Myrtle's death, clear Hagrid's name. But reality showed they could do nothing without a professor's help. They were just prey for beasts.
"We dragged Professor Levent into this," Hermione whispered.
Harry and Ron didn't hear, their ears filled with their pounding heartbeats, syncing with the spiders' clacking, making it hard to breathe.
"Our wands aren't broken yet—we can't give up!" Harry roared. "Hermione, handle that side. Ron, take this one. One direction each—we'll break through!"
Hermione's lips tightened, and she gripped her wand again.
Ron, stunned, opened his mouth but swallowed his despair.
The spiders neared the platform, slow but relentless, their eight eyes cruel, mandibles glinting coldly.
*Repello!*
A green glow erupted.
A full-force spell whistled through the air, flipping a nearby spider. But more surged forward, dense and unending.
The first half of the fight had drained them. Casting with such intensity burned through their remaining magic. The trio soon faltered, vision darkening.
Harry held out longest, vaguely hearing his friends collapse. He fell back, his vision blank, casting Repelling Charms on instinct.
The spiders closed in, their mandibles and chelicerae clacking loudly.
Harry's consciousness faded, his pupils dilating.
An Acromantula lunged at his tender neck, aiming to slaughter and drain—learned from humans.
*Clack.*
It hit an unbreakable barrier.
Confusion flickered in its eyes. Hesitating, it aimed for his abdomen to gut him, but its mandibles were blocked again.
An invisible shield!
The transparent barrier expanded, hurling the Acromantulas across the pit.
…
"Good heavens! What kind of ordeal did they endure? Every ounce of their magic drained dry—not a drop left."
"Poor children. Even in wartime, few wizards are pushed to such exhaustion."
"Look at them, frowning even in sleep. They'll have nightmares, tormented in their dreams."
Three pristine hospital beds stood in the infirmary, surrounded by the Headmaster and a young professor. Dumbledore, in blue pajamas with his beard tied in a pink cloth, had just come from his quarters.
Melvin stood by the beds, giving Madam Pomfrey space to work. She administered several foul-looking potions and healed their scrapes. Seeing their furrowed brows and nightmares, she gave them a dose of Cheering Potion.
The young wizards' faces relaxed, slipping into peaceful sleep.
"This afternoon, I was with Professor Sprout in the greenhouse when I saw them heading to Hagrid's. I followed and overheard their plan to question Aragog about the past…" Melvin recounted, omitting minor details. "I didn't intervene much, letting them face real danger and warning the Acromantula colony."
"Face real danger? Is that something a professor should say?" Madam Pomfrey grumbled, glaring at him.
"A bit of adversity helps them grow. Pain teaches them to protect themselves, and healed wounds teach them to cherish life," Dumbledore said, unperturbed. The trio was merely exhausted, with no serious harm.
He sighed softly. "When Hagrid released Aragog into the Forest, the centaurs strongly objected. I couldn't find a better place for it, so it stayed. Their breeding rate is fast, and by the time we noticed, the colony was too large to relocate. The centaur elders complain every time they see me."
"…"
Melvin didn't comment. He doubted the Headmaster couldn't relocate a spider colony if he wanted to. Who knew what the old man was thinking?
Dumbledore stroked his beard, glancing at Melvin. "Let's hope they don't miss tomorrow's Quidditch match, or this lesson will sting even more. What do you think, Melvin?"
"Quidditch?" Melvin blinked. "If we lose, Professor McGonagall won't blame me, will she?"
Dumbledore spread his hands, indicating he didn't know.
Melvin fell into thought.
On one hand, he'd encouraged Draco to try out for Slytherin's Seeker, earning the spot on merit.
On the other, he'd led Gryffindor's star players into danger, leaving them exhausted and possibly sidelined.
Surely McGonagall wouldn't hold it against him… right?