28. Aragog
Summer was slowly creeping over the grounds around the castle. The sky and lake had turned a soft periwinkle blue, and flowers as large as cabbages had bloomed in the greenhouses. But the sight felt wrong. There was no sign of Hagrid striding across the grounds with Fang at his heels, and without him, the scene seemed empty and unfamiliar. Inside the castle, it felt just as off-balance. Everything was horribly wrong.
Hope, Harry, and Ron had tried to visit Hermione, but visitors were no longer allowed in the hospital wing.
"We're taking no more chances," Madam Pomfrey had told them severely through a crack in the door. "Sorry, but there's every chance the attacker might come back to finish these people off."
With Dumbledore gone, fear spread faster than ever before. The sunlight warming the castle walls outside seemed to stop at the mullioned windows, leaving the school in a strange, shadowed gloom. There wasn't a face in the school that didn't look worried or tense, and laughter sounded forced and unnatural, quickly stifled when it rang out.
Dumbledore's final words echoed in their minds.
"I will only truly have left this school when none here are loyal to me... Help will always be given at Hogwarts to those who ask for it." But who were they supposed to ask for help when everyone was just as confused and scared as they were?
Hagrid's hint about the spiders was much easier to understand, but there didn't seem to be a single spider left in the castle to follow. Harry, Hope, and Ron looked everywhere, though it was quite difficult as they were no longer allowed to wander off alone. They had to stick together, moving in a pack with the other Gryffindors. Most of the students didn't seem to mind being corralled from class to class, but Hope found it irritating. She didn't like the feeling of the teachers practically breathing down her neck.
One person, however, seemed to be thriving in the atmosphere of terror and suspicion: Draco Malfoy. He strutted around the school as if he had just been made Head Boy. In their Potions lesson about a fortnight after Dumbledore and Hagrid's departure, Malfoy was gloating to Crabbe and Goyle.
"I always thought Father might be the one to get rid of Dumbledore," he said, making no effort to keep his voice low. "I told you he thinks Dumbledore's the worst Headmaster the school's ever had. Maybe we'll get a decent one now. Someone who won't want the Chamber of Secrets closed. McGonagall won't last long; she's only filling in..."
Snape swept past them without acknowledging Hermione's empty seat.
"Sir," Malfoy said loudly. "Sir, why don't you apply for the Headmaster's job?"
"Now, now, Malfoy," Snape said, though a thin-lipped smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. "Professor Dumbledore has only been suspended by the governors. I dare say he'll be back with us soon enough."
"Yeah, right," Malfoy smirked. "I expect you'd have Father's vote, sir, if you wanted to apply for the job. I'll tell Father you're the best teacher here, sir..."
Hope rolled her eyes. She had half a mind to tell Malfoy where he could shove his comment, but instead, she let her breath out in a huff.
Snape's smirk deepened as he swept away, fortunately not spotting Seamus Finnigan, who was pretending to vomit into his cauldron.
"I'm quite surprised the Mudbloods haven't all packed their bags by now," Malfoy continued. "Bet you five Galleons the next one dies. Pity it wasn't Granger..."
At that moment, the bell rang, and Ron leapt off his stool, furious. In the scramble to collect their bags and books, his attempt to reach Malfoy went unnoticed.
"Let me at him," Ron growled, struggling as Harry and Dean held him back. "I don't care, I don't need my wand; I'm going to kill him with my bare hands!"
Hope, watching the scene unfold, couldn't help but feel that, they should let Ron loose. Malfoy deserved everything that was coming to him.
"Hurry up, I've got to take you all to Herbology," Snape barked. As the class shuffled out, Hope, Harry, Ron, and Dean fell to the back, Ron still squirming in Harry and Dean's grip. Only once they were out of the castle and making their way across the vegetable patch toward the greenhouses did they let go of him.
Herbology class was subdued. There were now two empty spots: Justin and Hermione.
Professor Sprout set them to work pruning the Abyssinian Shrivelfigs. Harry went to dump a pile of withered stalks onto the compost heap when he came face-to-face with Ernie Macmillan. Ernie paused, took a deep breath, and said in a very formal tone, "I just want to say, Harry, that I'm sorry I ever suspected you. I know you'd never attack Hermione Granger, and I apologize for all the things I said. We're all in the same boat now, and, well..."
He held out a pudgy hand, and Harry shook it.
Hope frowned as she trimmed the Shrivelfig in front of her. She didn't trust Ernie's apology. It hadn't taken Hermione being petrified to realize Harry wasn't the heir of Slytherin. It only took common sense, something Ernie clearly didn't have.
Ernie and his friend Hannah worked at the same Shrivelfig as Hope, Harry, and Ron.
"That Draco Malfoy character," Ernie said, breaking off dead twigs. "He seems very pleased about all this, doesn't he? D'you know, I think he might be Slytherin's heir."
"That's clever of you," Ron muttered, who just as Hope didn't seem to have forgiven Ernie as readily as Harry.
"Do you think it's Malfoy, Harry?" Ernie asked.
"No," Harry answered firmly, causing Ernie and Hannah to stare at him in surprise. A few moments later, Harry suddenly hit Ron's hand with his pruning shears.
"Ouch! What're you—" Ron yelped, Hope turned to him at the sound of his yelp, her attention shifting to Harry who was pointing at the ground a few feet away.
Several large spiders scuttled across the earth.
"Oh, yeah," Ron said, trying but failing to look pleased. "But we can't follow them now..."
Ernie and Hannah were listening curiously while Harry watched the spiders running away.
"Looks like they're heading for the Forbidden Forest..." Harry said.
Ron's face grew even paler. "Of course they are," Hope sighed, exasperated.
The bell rang, and Professor Sprout led the class to their next lesson, Defence Against the Dark Arts. The trio lagged behind, out of earshot, to talk.
"We'll have to use the Invisibility Cloak again," Harry told them. "We can take Fang with us. He's used to going into the Forest with Hagrid. He might help."
"Right," Ron said, nervously twirling his wand. "Er—aren't there... aren't there supposed to be werewolves in the Forest?"
"For the last time," Hope said, "there are no werewolves in the Forest." But even as she spoke, she knew there were other dangers in the depths of the Forest, things far darker than werewolves.
"There are good things in there too. The centaurs are all right, and the unicorns," Harry added, though his voice didn't sound quite as confident as it had before.
None of them was eager to return to the Forbidden Forest. Ron had never been and Harry and Ron had entered it only once, and they were more than happy to avoid it forever, though she knew they had no choice.
Lockhart bounded into the room and the class stared at him. Every other teacher in the place was looking grimmer than usual, but Lockhart appeared nothing short of cheerful.
"Come now," he cried, beaming at the class. "Why all these long faces?"
People exchanged exasperated glances, but no one answered.
"Don't you realize," Lockhart said, speaking slowly, as though they were all a bit dim, "the danger has passed! The culprit has been taken away!"
"Says who?" Dean Thomas said loudly.
"My dear young man," Lockhart said, in his usual condescending tone, "the Minister of Magic wouldn't have taken Hagrid if he hadn't been one hundred percent sure that he was guilty."
"Oh, yes he would," Ron retorted loudly.
"I flatter myself I know a touch more about Hagrid's arrest than you do, Mr. Weasley," Lockhart said smugly.
"He doesn't know a touch more about anything," Hope muttered under her breath, crossing her arms irritably.
Ron started to argue, but Harry kicked him under the desk.
"We weren't there, remember?" Harry muttered.
But Lockhart's disgusting cheeriness, his hints that he had always thought Hagrid was no good, his confidence that the whole business was now at an end, irritated Harry so much that he yearned to throw Gadding with Ghouls right in Lockhart's stupid face. Instead he contented himself with scrawling a note to Ron "Let's do it tonight."
Ron read the message, before passing it to Hope, he swallowed hard and looked sideways at the empty seat usually filled by Hermione. The sight seemed to stiffen his resolve, and he nodded.
Hope looked over the note and gave an equally nervous but firm nod. She didn't want to go back into the Forbidden Forest. But they had no choice. They had to figure out who was behind opening the Chamber of Secrets—for Hermione and for Hagrid.
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The Gryffindor common room was packed as usual, buzzing with energy long past midnight. With nowhere else to go after six o'clock, the students filled the space, chatting about everything and nothing, making it difficult for anyone to leave early.
Harry retrieved the Invisibility Cloak from his trunk after dinner and spent the evening sitting on it, waiting for the room to clear. Fred and George roped him and Ron into a few rounds of Exploding Snap, while Hope and Ginny sat nearby, occasionally chatting about Ginny's classes.
Harry and Ron, eager to be on their way, kept losing on purpose, but even so, it was well past midnight when Fred, George, and Ginny finally headed to bed.
The moment they heard the distant clicks of dormitory doors closing, Harry, Hope, and Ron sprang into action. Grabbing the Cloak, they threw it over themselves and slipped out through the portrait hole.
Navigating the castle was nerve-wracking. Every shadow felt like it held a lurking teacher, every sound made them freeze in place. At last, they reached the Entrance Hall, carefully slid back the lock on the oak front doors, and squeezed outside into the cool night air.
"Of course," Ron muttered as they strode across the dew-damp grass, "we might get to the Forest and find there's nothing to follow. The spiders might not've been going there at all. I mean, it looked like they were, but..."
His voice trailed off, hopeful.
Hagrid's hut loomed ahead, dark and desolate. Its windows, usually glowing with warmth, were now empty and lifeless. As soon as Harry pushed the door open, Fang erupted in a fit of joyful barking.
"Shh!" Harry hissed, scrambling to find something to quiet him.
Hope knelt and scratched behind Fang's ears as Ron rummaged through a tin on the mantelpiece, fishing out a sticky chunk of treacle fudge. He tossed it to Fang, whose mouth promptly glued shut as he chewed.
Hope gave the now-silent, tail-wagging boarhound a final pat as Harry tossed the Cloak onto Hagrid's table. "No need for this in the Forest," he murmured.
"C'mon, Fang, we're going for a walk," Harry called. The dog bounded happily ahead, dashing to the edge of the trees and lifting his leg against a sycamore.
Harry drew his wand. "Lumos." A small glow flared at its tip, illuminating the path just enough to watch for spiders.
Hope followed suit. "Lumos."
"Good thinking," Ron muttered. "I'd light mine too, but knowing my luck, it'd explode."
Harry tapped Ron's shoulder and pointed at the grass. Two spiders skittered away from the light, vanishing into the undergrowth.
Ron sighed, resigned. "Alright. Let's go."
With Fang trotting beside them, sniffing at roots and leaves, they stepped into the Forest. The glow of their wands cast long, eerie shadows as they followed the thin trickle of spiders. They walked in silence for nearly twenty minutes, every crack of a twig making Hope's heart leap. The trees thickened around them, blotting out the stars until only their wandlight pierced the darkness.
Hope swallowed hard, nerves tightening in her chest. They had never been this deep into the Forest before. She could still hear Hagrid's warning in her mind: Stick to the path. But Hagrid wasn't here. Hagrid was miles away—locked in a cell at Azkaban. And he had said to follow the spiders.
Something wet touched Harry's hand. He jerked back, slamming into Hope and crushing Ron's foot.
"Bloody hell, Harry!" Ron hissed, hopping on one leg.
Hope let out a breathless laugh as she steadied herself. "Relax, it's just Fang."
Harry grimaced. "Sorry."
They pressed on. The deeper they went, the rougher the terrain became. Tree roots clawed at their ankles, branches snagged their robes. Hope could feel Fang's hot breath on her hand, his presence a small comfort in the suffocating darkness.
Then, out of nowhere, Fang let out a deep, echoing bark that sent them all reeling.
"What was that?" Ron yelped, clutching Harry's arm.
Harry stiffened. "Something's moving."
Hope's grip tightened on her wand as she strained to listen. Something heavy was crashing through the trees to their right, snapping branches in its path.
Ron groaned. "Oh no. Oh no, oh no, oh—"
"Shut up," Harry whispered urgently. "It'll hear you."
"Hear me?" Ron's voice cracked. "It's already heard Fang!"
They stood frozen, the darkness pressing in, suffocating. Then—
A strange, rumbling noise. Silence.
"What do you think it's doing?" Harry murmured.
"Probably getting ready to pounce," Ron choked out.
They barely breathed.
"D'you think it's gone?" Hope whispered, voice tight with fear.
"Dunno—" Harry began.
A sudden blaze of light erupted ahead, so bright that they threw up their hands to shield their eyes. Fang yelped, trying to bolt, only to get tangled in a thorn bush.
"Harry, Hope!" Ron's voice cracked with relief. "It's our car!"
"What?" Harry squinted.
Hope exhaled sharply as the blinding headlights crept closer, illuminating the clearing.
"Come on!" Ron shouted, running forward.
Harry and Hope stumbled after him, tripping over roots in their haste. As they entered the clearing, Mr. Weasley's old Ford Anglia sat waiting, its headlights beaming through the trees like a faithful hound greeting its master.
"It's been here all this time?" Ron gaped, running a hand over the battered hood. "Look at it! The Forest's turned it wild."
The car was scratched and dirtied, but it purred contentedly, nudging forward slightly as Ron approached.
Hope glanced down at Fang, who pressed against her legs, trembling violently. "And we thought it was going to attack us," she muttered.
Harry scanned the ground, searching for more spiders, but the creatures had fled from the light.
"We've lost the trail," he muttered. "C'mon, let's—"
His words died in his throat.
Ron's face had gone deathly pale. His eyes were locked on something behind Harry—about ten feet up.
Hope turned, her breath hitching. Her stomach dropped. Her face paled as she let out a tiny, strangled shriek.
Harry didn't even have time to turn around. A loud clicking noise cut through the air, and before he could react, something long and hairy seized him around the middle, lifting him clean off the ground. He was dangling, face down, his heart slamming against his ribs.
Struggling, panic clawing at his throat, he heard more clicking and saw Ron's and Hope's legs being yanked into the air too. Fang's terrified howls echoed through the trees—then they were moving, sweeping deeper into the dark forest.
Harry hung helplessly, head swinging, and caught a glimpse of his captor. The thing that held him marched forward on six immense, hairy legs, the front two gripping him tightly below a pair of glistening black pincers. Behind him, he could hear another creature carrying Ron—another, Hope. Fang was still fighting somewhere in the distance, whining frantically as a fourth monster dragged him along.
Harry wanted to scream, but his voice was gone, abandoned somewhere back in the clearing.
Hope, however, had no such issue.
She yelped as she twisted and struggled in the hairy creature's grip, every inch of her body screaming to get away. She didn't know how long she was trapped like that, only that the oppressive darkness around them gradually thinned. The stars overhead came back into view, casting an eerie glow over the leaf-littered forest floor—except the ground was moving.
Spiders.
Not the tiny kind she was used to seeing darting over tree trunks. These were enormous, monstrous things, their glossy black bodies shifting restlessly, legs twitching in anticipation.
Her captor carried her downward into a vast hollow, cleared of trees, where an enormous, mist-covered web loomed at the center. All around them, more spiders closed in, their pincers clicking excitedly at the sight of their prize. Hope's stomach twisted.
Then, suddenly, she was falling.
Harry hit the ground first, landing on all fours as the spider released him. Hope, Ron, and Fang thudded down beside him. Fang whimpered but stayed frozen in place, too terrified to make another sound.
Hope barely breathed.
Ron's face was frozen in a silent scream, his wide eyes almost cartoonish in their horror. Hope imagined she looked much the same.
She had never been particularly afraid of spiders—until now.
Now, surrounded by their glistening black eyes, their bristly legs twitching, she felt her entire body tense with revulsion, as her skin crawled.
One of the spiders—the one that had carried Harry—moved forward, clicking its pincers with every word it spoke.
"Aragog!" it called. "Aragog!"
From the center of the misty, domed web, a spider the size of a small elephant emerged, moving slowly. The black of his body and legs was streaked with gray, his ugly, pincered head crowned with milky white eyes. He was blind.
"What is it?" he asked, his pincers clicking rapidly.
"Men," answered the spider who had caught Harry.
"Is it Hagrid?" Aragog moved closer, his eight clouded eyes shifting vaguely.
"Strangers," replied the spider who had brought Ron.
Aragog clicked fretfully. "Kill them. I was sleeping..."
"We're friends of Hagrid's!" Harry shouted, his heart pounding in his throat.
Click, click, click—hundreds of pincers echoed through the hollow.
Aragog hesitated. "Hagrid has never sent men into our hollow before."
"Hagrid's in trouble," Harry said, his breath quick and shallow. "That's why we've come."
"In trouble?" The old spider's voice almost carried a note of concern, despite the ever-present clicking. "But why has he sent you?"
Harry swallowed hard, forcing himself to sound calm. "They think, up at the school, that Hagrid's been setting—something—on students. They've taken him to Azkaban."
A furious clicking erupted all around them. The noise was deafening, like applause, but instead of comfort, it sent a deep shiver of fear through Hope.
"But that was years ago," Aragog said, his voice uneasy. "Years and years. I remember it well. That's why they made him leave the school. They believed I was the monster that dwelled in what they call the Chamber of Secrets. They thought Hagrid opened it and set me free."
"And you... you didn't come from the Chamber of Secrets?" Harry's forehead was damp with cold sweat.
"I!" Aragog clicked angrily. "I was not born in the castle. I come from a distant land. A traveler gave me to Hagrid when I was an egg. Hagrid was only a boy, but he cared for me, hiding me in a cupboard, feeding me scraps. Hagrid is a good man. When I was discovered and blamed for a girl's death, he protected me. I have lived in this forest ever since, where Hagrid still visits me. He even found me a wife, Mosag. Look at how our family has grown—all through Hagrid's kindness."
Harry gathered his courage. "So you never—never attacked anyone?"
"Never," the old spider croaked. "It would have been my instinct, but out of respect for Hagrid, I never harmed a human. The girl's body was found in a bathroom. I never saw any part of the castle but the cupboard where I grew up. Our kind prefers the dark, the quiet..."
"Then... do you know what did kill that girl?" Harry pressed. "Because whatever it is, it's back. It's attacking people again—"
His words were swallowed by a loud outbreak of clicking and the rustling of many legs. The shadows around them shifted angrily.
Hope and Ron clung to each other, their breaths coming in short gasps, their fearful whimpers barely audible beneath the chittering cacophony.
"The creature in the castle," Aragog said, "is an ancient being that we spiders fear above all others. I remember how I pleaded with Hagrid to let me leave when I sensed it moving through the school."
"What is it?" Harry asked urgently.
The spiders rustled closer. More clicking. More movement.
Hope and Ron tugged at Harry's arm, panic rising, but he shrugged them off, eyes locked on Aragog.
"We do not speak of it!" Aragog snapped. "We do not name it! I never even told Hagrid its name, though he asked me many times."
Harry hesitated. The spiders were closing in. Aragog was retreating into his web, but his children continued to creep forward.
"We'll just go, then," Harry called, his voice edged with desperation.
"Go?" Aragog's voice was slow, deliberate. "I think not."
"But— but—"
"My sons and daughters do not harm Hagrid, on my command. But I cannot deny them fresh meat when it wanders so willingly into our midst. Goodbye, friend of Hagrid."
He disappeared into the shadows.
Harry spun around. The spiders loomed over them, a wall of clicking fangs and glistening black eyes.
Hope's trembling hand clutched her wand, but there were too many. Harry reached for his, refusing to go down without a fight.
Then, a loud, blaring note split the air, and a blaze of light flooded the hollow.
Mr. Weasley's car came roaring down the slope, headlamps glaring, horn screeching. Spiders tumbled aside, some flipping onto their backs, legs flailing. The car skidded to a halt in front of them, doors flying open.
"Get Fang!" Harry yelled, diving into the front seat.
Ron grabbed the boarhound and threw him, yelping, into the back before flinging himself inside next to Hope. The doors slammed shut. The car needed no encouragement; the engine roared, and they were off, smashing through the horde of spiders, tearing through the forest.
Hope clutched the dashboard, her breaths shallow and uneven, her face still stricken with terror. Ron sat beside her, mouth frozen mid-silent scream, his wide eyes fixed ahead.
"Are you okay?" Harry asked, voice still tight with adrenaline.
Ron gave no answer, staring ahead in shock. Hope shook her head rapidly, fingers gripping the seat as if letting go would send her hurtling back into the nightmare.
Branches whipped against the windows. Fang howled in the back. The car tore through the undergrowth for what felt like an eternity before the trees finally thinned, revealing patches of sky.
The car screeched to a sudden stop. They lurched forward, nearly hitting the windscreen.
They had reached the edge of the forest.
Fang flung himself at the door. The moment it opened, he shot off toward Hagrid's hut, tail between his legs.
Hope exhaled sharply and pushed the door open, stepping out with an unsteady huff. Harry followed. After a moment, Ron finally regained feeling in his limbs and climbed out, still stiff and staring.
Harry gave the car a grateful pat as it reversed and disappeared into the trees.
Inside Hagrid's cabin, Fang trembled under a blanket in his basket. Harry grabbed the Invisibility Cloak and stepped back outside.
Ron was violently sick in the pumpkin patch.
"Follow the spiders," he muttered weakly, wiping his mouth on his sleeve. "I'll never forgive Hagrid. We're lucky to be alive."
Hope paced, shaking her head as if trying to shake off the lingering terror. "My nightmares have nightmares," she muttered. "I'm never going back into that bloody forest. I don't care if it's to save the whole world—next time, I'm not doing it."
"I bet he thought Aragog wouldn't hurt friends of his," Harry reasoned.
"That's exactly Hagrid's problem!" Ron snapped, thumping the cabin wall. "He always thinks monsters aren't as bad as they seem, and look where it's got him! A cell in Azkaban!" He shivered violently. "If Hagrid ever gets out, I'll kill him myself."
Hope's fear turned to frustration. "What was the point of going in there? What did we even learn?"
"That Hagrid never opened the Chamber of Secrets," Harry said, throwing the Cloak over them and nudging Ron forward. "He was innocent."
Ron gave a loud snort. Evidently, hatching Aragog out in a cupboard wasn't his idea of being innocent.
As the castle loomed nearer, Harry tugged the Cloak to make sure their feet were hidden, then pushed the heavy front doors open just enough for them to slip inside. They moved cautiously across the Entrance Hall, up the marble staircase, and through the dim corridors, holding their breath whenever they passed the occasional patrol. At last, they reached the safety of the Gryffindor common room, where the fire had burned down to a soft glow. Shedding the Cloak, they climbed the winding staircase to their dormitory.
Hope collapsed onto her bed face-first, not even bothering to undress. Exhaustion weighed on her limbs, yet her mind refused to settle. Aragog's words churned in her thoughts, tangled up with the lingering memory of his children's skittering legs closing in on them.
The monster roaming the school was so terrifying that even Aragog, a creature most would consider monstrous himself, refused to name it. How were they supposed to do anything about that? She had no answers—just an overwhelming pile of questions. Who had opened the Chamber before? What was the creature? How did it petrify people? Her mind kept circling back to Aragog's words, searching for something—anything—she might have missed.
Across the room, Harry lay on his bed, staring at the ceiling. "We're at a dead end," he murmured. "Riddle caught the wrong person, the real heir of Slytherin got away, and now we don't even know if it's the same one who opened the Chamber this time." He let out a frustrated sigh. "There's no one else to ask."
His words barely registered. Hope was too deep in thought, repeating Aragog's last statements over and over.
"It would have been my instinct, but out of respect for Hagrid, I never harmed a human. The body of the girl who was killed was discovered in a bathroom. I never saw any part of the castle but the cupboard in which I grew up."
Wait—
Hope lifted her head as her eyes snapped open.
The girl had died in a bathroom.
Her breath caught as a piece finally fit into place.
What if she never left?
Moaning Myrtle.