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Everywhere was covered in a vast expanse of white spider silk. Countless spiders crawled along the ground, up trees, and across the webbed canopy. Spiders the size of human heads were considered mere hatchlings here, while car-sized ones were a common sight.
Occasionally, eight-eyed giant spiders would dangle in front of Ethan, flaunting their presence or brushing against him, but he dodged them all with ease.
Hagrid's expulsion truly seemed justified.
Back when he watched the movies, these spiders had looked manageable. But now, seeing them up close, Ethan fully agreed with their XXXXX classification. They bred like crazy! If these spiders ever attacked Hogwarts without professors to fend them off, they could easily annihilate all seven years of students.
"Hagrid, are you sure the Forbidden Forest can sustain this many spiders?"
Ethan doubted that the ecosystem could handle an unchecked spider population. If left alone, the eight-eyed giant spiders might very well dominate the forest and wipe out other species.
Invasive species were never a good sign.
"What's wrong with that?" Hagrid looked genuinely puzzled. He had been raising them for decades. Why not continue?
"Have you considered how much these big spiders eat every day? If they keep multiplying, the entire Forbidden Forest might not be enough to sustain them."
"The forest is massive. I think it'll be fine," Hagrid responded confidently.
Alright, Ethan thought. That settled it. Hagrid loved magical creatures but had zero understanding of ecology or biology.
"Aragog! I've come to see you!"
Standing at the mouth of a large cave formed by intertwining tree roots, Hagrid called out loudly.
A rustling came from deep within. Eventually, a spider the size of a small truck appeared. It was clearly very old—its eyes dull and grey, lacking their former luster.
But when it saw Hagrid, it became visibly excited, waving its front legs.
"Hagrid, you haven't visited in so long!"
Ethan had never seen another magical creature capable of speech.
However, Aragog didn't seem to care much about him. Whether it was poor eyesight, high intelligence dulling its responses, or something else, it only had eyes for Hagrid.
"…Sorry, I came to ask for your help. There are poachers in the Forbidden Forest, and I hope you and your kin can help me find them."
Hagrid looked apologetically at Aragog. He'd been busy patrolling with Ethan and hadn't had time for a nighttime visit.
"I will have my offspring keep watch," Aragog replied. As a friend—or perhaps a father figure—of Hagrid, it naturally wouldn't refuse.
"Thank you, Aragog."
"Just visit me more often. I don't think I have many days left. Being with you makes me happiest."
Hagrid froze, overcome by emotion. He stepped forward and gently embraced Aragog's long, bristled leg, his eyes filled with sorrow.
He knew Aragog had aged, but he hadn't expected this end to approach so quickly.
Ethan didn't interrupt the emotional exchange between man and spider. Instead, he wandered off and approached a nearby eight-eyed giant spider about the size of a car.
Patting its smooth head, he took out a clear glass jar. "Hey buddy, mind giving me some venom?"
The spider was stunned at first, then nodded. This human felt friendly. Besides, it wasn't like venom was in short supply—it could easily spare some.
The spider extended its mouthparts and began injecting venom into the jar.
Ethan smiled and gave its head another gentle pat. He'd initially thought the spiders were ugly, but now he found them rather cute.
A pint of eight-eyed giant spider venom was worth 100 Galleons. Even Horace Slughorn, the Potions Master, would jump at the chance to get his hands on it. It was practically priceless.
And now, Ethan was getting it for free—and in bulk.
Thanks to his animal affinity skill, he continued coaxing one spider after another, eventually filling two jars. That amounted to about seven or eight pints. (One pint equals 568.26 milliliters.)
Don't underestimate this venom. Given the spiders' size, each one produced enough in a single secretion to wash someone's face.
But since he took just a portion from each, it posed no harm to them at all.
"Ethan, time to go!" Hagrid called.
It had taken them ages to search the territories of various magical creatures for clues. Add to that the long conversation with Aragog, and dawn was approaching.
Hagrid himself didn't mind staying longer. He could spend all day with Aragog. But Ethan was still a student—he had classes today.
"Got it!" Ethan called back, collecting some spider silk as he replied.
Not only the venom—Ethan had found the silk extremely durable. Though it had a weakness to fire, it was an excellent material for alchemy.
On the way back, Hagrid remained silent and gloomy. Even though Ethan tried to console him, Hagrid responded with only nods and didn't say much.
Ethan understood that Hagrid would need to work through this himself.
He just wondered whether his energy cubes might extend the lifespan of eight-eyed giant spiders.
As for Aragog, Ethan didn't have high hopes. After all, it was just a magical creature.
But to Hagrid, it had been a loyal companion. Despite their fearsome nature and hunger for human flesh—something the eight-eyed spiders were infamous for—Aragog had never eaten a human. He had restrained his offspring for a lifetime. Only in his old age did he lose control, and after his death, the spiders fully let loose and even sided with the Death Eaters.
Chapter 55: Quirrell's Flirtation
"Adrien… Mr. Adrien, please… stay behind for a moment. The teacher has… something to say to you!"
As Ethan was about to leave the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom, he heard Quirrell's voice behind him.
What was he up to now? Ethan couldn't recall having much interaction with him.
"Students, you may go. The teacher has something to discuss with Mr. Adrien alone," Quirrell repeated, noticing some students hesitating.
"I'll catch up. You guys go ahead," Ethan told his classmates.
He wasn't worried. As long as Dumbledore was around, Quirrell wouldn't dare act out.
Besides, this version of Voldemort—weak and barely holding on—might not be able to exert much strength. If it came to a fight, Ethan wasn't backing down.
"Professor Quirrell, why did you ask me to stay behind?" Ethan asked, activating Occlumency as he fixed his eyes on the professor.
He might look down on Quirrell and the weakened Voldemort, but underestimating them would be foolish.
"Adrien… don't be nervous," Quirrell stammered.
"I'm not nervous, Professor. If you've got something to say, please hurry—I have another class soon."
"I also graduated from Ravenclaw… You've done what I never dared back then. The teacher wants to reward you."
Ethan gave him a blank look. He knew these tropes. But Quirrell wasn't exactly a blonde, long-legged bombshell of a teacher offering a tempting reward.
If he really wanted a reward, he'd rather go back to his senior for one.
Voldemort, meanwhile, was growing impatient inside Quirrell's head.
"Idiot! Just give him the stuff already!" the Dark Lord snapped mentally.
"Yes, Master," Quirrell replied, trembling.
"This is a trophy I obtained during my travels… It contains powerful magical knowledge. And this is a pass to the Restricted Section. I'm giving them to you—I hope they'll be of use."
He handed over a notebook and a signed slip of paper.
These were bait, carefully prepared by Voldemort. If you want to fish, you have to use the right bait.
And for Ravenclaws, what could be more tempting than forbidden knowledge?
The notebook contained black magic—not Unforgivable Curses or anything like Fiendfyre, but still dark and powerful. Combined with the restricted section pass, it was a setup meant to lure Ethan down a darker path.
"Thank you, Professor. I've been needing a pass," Ethan replied, accepting the items.
Though Quirrell was shady, he was still a professor. His signed pass would be valid.
Ethan hadn't visited the restricted section before. Dumbledore had moved many books out of reach, and he still had plenty to study in the Ravenclaw library.
But now that he had the pass, he could explore the restricted section at his leisure.
On the way back to class, he flipped through the notebook.
It was packed with black magic, yet none of the really extreme spells. Interestingly, the handwriting looked recent—especially the last few pages, which seemed to have been written just last night.
So much for it being a "trophy from the past."
Charms Classroom
"Ethan, what did Professor Quirrell want?" Terry asked eagerly.
"He gave me a notebook and a restricted section pass. Interested?"
Ethan saw no need to hide it—Quirrell hadn't been discreet, after all. And with Snape monitoring Quirrell, Dumbledore would know soon anyway.
"What's in the notebook?" Michael asked, intrigued.
"It's all black magic. Want to read it?"
"…Forget it. Since it came from Quirrell, I'd rather not. Be careful, though."
After a pause, Michael declined.
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