Chapter 313: The Acromantula
Verifying Godelot's words wasn't difficult. The dark wizard had noted in his texts:
"Dark creatures possess a cruel instinct, an instinct birthed from a wizard's extreme conviction. A wizard wielding the Elder Wand can more easily read the malice hidden in the depths of their souls... and master it."
This implied that Sean could use the path of the Void Rune to sense and verify this malice, much like Tom Riddle had...
Walking down the corridor, Sean paused.
Malice... Voldemort...
If the malice found in dark creatures was the product of a wizard's perverted faith, then what did that say about Voldemort?
"He has very little humanity left in him..." Sean whispered to himself.
He recalled the words of the Centaur teacher. The evidence was quietly beginning to support Godelot's theories.
Sean had taken to the night corridors once more. Mrs. Norris had accompanied him for a portion of the way, perched on his shoulder, before giving the back of his neck a parting nuzzle and vanishing into the shadows of a stairwell.
Sean stepped out onto the grass and made his way toward the Forbidden Forest.
By the light of his wand, he walked for nearly twenty minutes. Aside from the occasional snap of a twig and the rustling of leaves in the cool breeze, the forest was silent. As he moved deeper, the trees grew denser, their canopy knitting together until the stars were no longer visible. Sean's wand was a lone, flickering spark in a vast sea of pitch-black.
Regardless of whether Godelot's theory was correct, the Dark Arts offered an obvious shortcut. But a voice deep within Sean told him:
The hardest, most winding path is often the shortest way home.
Inside the forest, low-hanging branches and thorny vines frequently snagged on robed figures—it was why Hagrid's clothes were always in tatters. But as Sean approached, the vegetation seemed to shrink away, as if reacting to an unspoken magic.
Suddenly, Sean realized he wasn't alone.
To his right, something massive was carving a path through the undergrowth, the sound of snapping timber echoing through the trees.
"Lumos!" Sean commanded.
He raised his wand, and a sphere of brilliant light flooded the area.
He saw them: spiders.
They weren't like the tiny arachnids that scurried across the dungeon floors. These were each the size of a Thestral—eight-eyed, eight-legged monsters covered in coarse, black hair.
One giant spider descended a steep slope toward a misty, dome-shaped web in the center of a hollow. Its kin surrounded it immediately, their massive pincers clicking and clacking in a rhythmic, unsettling chorus.
Acromantulas?
What were they doing here? Since when had they built a nest in this part of the woods? Sean frowned; this wouldn't do. Every creature in the Forbidden Forest had its territory, and he knew for a fact that this hollow belonged to the Centaurs.
"You shouldn't be here," Sean said, holding his wand high.
It was his first time seeing so many Acromantulas in one place, yet his face remained calm, his voice as steady as a still lake.
"Aragog!" one of the spiders called out. "Aragog!"
From the center of the misty web, a spider the size of a small elephant crawled slowly into view. Its body and legs were a mottled grey-black. On its hideous, pincer-clad head, each of its eight eyes was milky-white with cataracts.
The creature was blind.
"What is it?" the monster clicked, its pincers moving with lightning speed.
"A man from the castle," the first spider replied.
"Is it Hagrid?" Aragog asked, leaning forward, his milky eyes staring blankly into the light.
"It is Sean Green," Sean replied.
Hagrid had told Sean that he'd mentioned the boy's name to every creature in the forest.
"Kill him," Aragog clicked irritably. "I was sleeping... no, wait. Are you a friend of Hagrid's?"
Aragog hesitated.
Sean watched the swarm of spiders. Through the Void Rune, he could sense the absolute malice radiating from them—a cold, calculating hunger identical to the aura Tom Riddle had projected.
He sighed. It seemed Godelot was right: these dark creatures were the byproduct of a wizard's twisted conviction. This was why they possessed such crude, cruel magical abilities—like a Dementor's power to drain joy, or a Basilisk's killing gaze. These were magical traits, plain and simple.
"Hagrid never used to send people to our hollow," the spider said slowly.
"This is Centaur territory," Sean countered, fixing his gaze on the blind king.
"A monster from your castle has appeared near our home..." Aragog clicked. "We had no choice but to flee."
Sean went silent. It seemed his relocation of the Basilisk had disrupted the forest's delicate ecosystem. He needed to handle this quickly.
"You are leaving?" Aragog asked, the clicking of his pincers growing louder. The rustling from the surrounding trees intensified as the swarm began to close in.
"I think not... My sons and daughters obey my command not to harm Hagrid. But when fresh human meat delivers itself to our door, I cannot deny them the pleasure. Farewell, friend of Hagrid..."
Sean looked around. A few paces away and high above him, the spiders had formed a solid wall of clicking legs and gleaming eyes. They were everywhere.
"Snowy," Sean called.
Within seconds, a streak of silver-white cut through the ink-black sky. The owl landed firmly on Sean's shoulder.
It looks like I'll be preparing Acromantula Biscuits ahead of schedule, Sean thought.
A torrent of flame erupted from the tip of Sean's wand. The fire swirled around him, forming a protective ring that quickly expanded into a miniature inferno.
Belief, then... Sean mused.
Ritual magic reinforced a wizard's intent; it was the physical manifestation of their magic. But conviction—that was the soul of the wizard. It was the line that separated the Light from the Dark.
As he purged his mind of doubt and focused his will, the sea of fire surged outward. Sean flicked his wand, the dancing flames reflected in his emerald eyes.
[Alert: You have practiced Magical Transfiguration at the standard of a Master within the Master Realm. Master-level Proficiency +300]
The flames roared and galloped, carrying Sean's unstoppable will through the trees.
"It is you! It is you!" Aragog shrieked, his legs trembling. "The wizard of the earthquakes!"
A large portion of his brood had already been scorched to cinders, and the wall of fire seemed even more inexhaustible than the spider swarm.
The spiders turned to flee in blind panic, only to find their path blocked. Lurking in the shadows behind them was a colossal, serpentine shape—wearing a pair of goggles and keeping its eyes tightly shut.
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