"...A deal?" Aragog said irritably. "Whatever the deal, put that thing away first!"
Marcel nodded, re-corked the bottle in his hand, and put it back in the pocket inside his outer robe.
"Aragog. In fact, you don't have to be so nervous—"
"How can I not be nervous! How can I not be nervous! That is the ancient creature we spiders fear most! How can I not be nervous!" Aragog said irritably, clicking his pincers.
"Obviously, that thing is not here," Marcel said calmly. "What's in that little bottle is its scale—I got it myself."
"So what!" said Aragog. "Even if you can deal with... that thing—"
"Basilisk," Marcel added.
"Oh, damn it! Don't say it! We don't speak its name!"
Hearing the word "basilisk," the crowd of Acromantulas stirred restlessly. Clearly, it was like Voldemort among wizards, representing terror and death.
"I just want you to get used to it," Marcel said. "This deal is obviously beneficial to you and all your kin."
"What deal?"
"I have carefully verified that both the basilisk—" Marcel drawled, ignoring the renewed commotion among the large spiders, and continued, "—and you Acromantulas are magical creatures bred by wizards."
"Perhaps you are right. And then?"
"That is to say, you shouldn't have natural enemies at all," Marcel said matter-of-factly. "The reason the basilisk became the natural enemy of your Acromantula race is simply because you have broken away from wizard breeding."
"You mean—" Aragog said hesitantly, "we still have a chance to become stronger?"
"That's why I said the wisdom of you Acromantulas is merely concealed by your ferocity," Marcel said, his eyes shining as he looked directly at Aragog. "What if I said I could use the basilisk's bloodline to further strengthen you Acromantulas?"
"Do you like having others tamper with your body!" Aragog shouted irritably.
But Marcel suddenly changed the subject.
"Aragog, why do you think I chose to make a deal with you?"
"What?"
Aragog didn't react for a moment, then after a pause, picked up Marcel's new topic.
"Um... is it because we are both friends of Hagrid?"
"To be precise, it's because of 'wisdom'," said Marcel. "If I remember correctly, your favorite food is human flesh, right?"
"Yes, it is the most delicious food!"
"But you have never eaten it," Marcel added.
"No," Aragog clicked his legs. "I have the instinct, but out of respect for Hagrid, I have never harmed a single person."
"Have you ever thought about why?"
"Didn't I say? Because of Hagrid! At that time, Hagrid was just a child, but he took care of me, hid me in a cupboard in the castle, and fed me crumbs from the table—Hagrid is my good friend, he is a good man! When they found me and wanted me to take responsibility for a girl's death, it was he who protected me."
Aragog paused, then continued, "Since then, I have lived in this forest, and Hagrid often comes to see me. He even found me a wife—Mosag. You see how our family has prospered, it's all thanks to Hagrid..."
"Listen, Aragog," Marcel said, raising his head slightly. "Everything you've said is correct. And this is precisely because of wisdom!"
"You have enough brains, you have reason and emotion. If you want, you can suppress your instincts and control your actions," Marcel struck while the iron was hot. "This is something the basilisk can never have. They only know how to obey orders and kill."
"So..."
"So, I chose to make this deal with you, instead of trying to control the basilisk," Marcel said faintly. "...Believe me, there are always ways, but I don't want to do that."
"What I want is a friend," he said softly. "This is a deal between friends. If you feel anything is inappropriate, you can give up the deal at any time."
"A deal between friends..." Aragog chewed on this sentence. After a good while, he continued, "I can understand the meaning in this, but my children will not."
"Of course I understand that," Marcel said calmly. "So, can I talk to you about this deal between friends?"
"Of course," said Aragog. "But I only want to live quietly in the deep forest. This is an absolutely unchanged premise."
Aragog's meaning was clear: he did not want to be involved in any form of conflict.
"Yes, that's right. My request is simple—after your bloodline transformation is successful, can I adopt some of the first clutch of children?"
"Mosag will not agree!" Aragog said decisively. "Although I don't care too much, my wife sees every child as her treasure! It's the nature of spiders!"
"It's also the nature of every creature, I understand that... I will take good care of your children, just like Hagrid," Marcel managed a sincere expression, but Aragog clearly couldn't understand it.
To a spider, all humans looked the same. Even Hagrid was, at best, just a bit sturdier than ordinary people. In this regard, he was just wasting his effort.
"I can only help you ask."
With this sentence, Aragog ended the "man and spider" trade negotiation.
Unlike when he arrived, on the way back, Marcel enjoyed the luxury of an Acromantula mount, a grand courtesy that even Hagrid had never experienced.
The benefits of eight legs were demonstrated here; the shock absorption was simply top-notch!
Aragog's child took Marcel to the edge of the Forbidden Forest. After Marcel slid off its back, it scurried away on its eight legs.
On the way back to the castle, Marcel walked while carefully thinking about what to do next.
To be frank, if it weren't for the fact that this trial was really a bit difficult, he would have done this long ago.
After the series of changes last term became a foregone conclusion, Marcel had already decided not to act passively anymore. Although he just wanted to be a research-oriented wizard quietly, many things couldn't be achieved just by thinking. It was never a bad thing to prepare for a rainy day.
The growth rate of Acromantulas was very fast, and their reproductive ability was quite strong. If cultivated properly, their cost-effectiveness was much higher than that of a basilisk.
It was just that bloodline modification was easy to say, but very complicated to do. Fortunately, there was Merlin's Book of Jests in the library to refer to, which contained quite in-depth research on bloodlines. And Marcel himself had extracted a lot of experimental data from Rowena's secret chamber.
"It's still the same old saying, there's really not enough time..." Marcel shook his head and walked quickly towards the dormitory.
…
In the days that followed, trivial matters came one after another.
First, the exam date was approaching. Amidst the sighs of the students, what was to come still arrived as scheduled.
Then there were the Mandrakes. They were about to mature. This meant that the petrified students could be saved.
And then, there was the matter between Marcel and Ron.
Occasionally, Marcel would also go to the hospital wing to see Hermione, but if he ran into Ron, it would always turn into a scene where Ron glared at him angrily.
Even though Marcel didn't care about this at all, Harry would become very embarrassed.
One day, Harry and Ron ran into Marcel in the hospital wing again.
While Ron was glaring at Marcel angrily, Harry noticed that Hermione seemed to be clutching something in her hand. He leaned closer to take a look, and then, while Madam Pomfrey was busy dealing with Marcel and Ron, he took the thing from Hermione's hand.
Marcel naturally noticed this, because the reason he had come so frequently was just to witness this event.
Since Harry had already taken the note, he could leave.
Marcel glanced at Ron with an expressionless face, then decisively turned and walked out the door, quickly disappearing from Ron's angry sight.
A short while later, Harry pulled Ron out of the hospital wing.
"Look at this!" Harry whispered. "I found it in Hermione's hand."
It was a page torn from a very old library book.
Harry eagerly unfolded it, and Ron leaned over. The two of them read together:
Of the many fearsome beasts and monsters that roam our land, there is none more curious or more deadly than the Basilisk, known also as the King of Serpents. This snake, which may reach gigantic size and live many hundreds of years, is born from a chicken's egg, hatched beneath a toad. Its methods of killing are most wondrous, for aside from its deadly and venomous fangs, the Basilisk has a murderous stare, and all who are fixed with the beam of its eye shall suffer instant death. Spiders flee before the Basilisk, for it is their mortal enemy, and the Basilisk flees only from the crowing of the rooster, which is fatal to it.
Below this paragraph, two words were written: "Pipes."
"This is Hermione's handwriting," Harry said excitedly. "I think I understand!"
This crumpled page became a guiding light in Harry's mind, directing all the lost ships to find the right course.
Clearly, Marcel's remedial action was undoubtedly a success. This was exactly the outcome he wanted.
"Ron," he said, so excited he could barely breathe. "This is it. The answer. The monster in the Chamber is a basilisk—a giant serpent! That's why I've been hearing that voice all over the place, and nobody else has. It's because I understand Parseltongue..."
"Oh, yes," Ron turned his head and looked at the stiff Hermione in the hospital wing. "She left us the most important information..."
"...And not to Marcel, whom she had always trusted," Ron added to himself.
For some reason, a trace of satisfaction flowed through Ron's heart.
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