The giant Acromantula fleeing at the vanguard of the panicked swarm was furious. Return obediently? To that monster? No! His enormous, hairy legs churned the soft earth, kicking up divots of soil and damp leaves. He who runs away dies—a fool's threat!
The spider's mind, consumed by primal survival, believed itself safe. They had already covered a substantial distance, and in this chaotic, multi-directional scramble, how could one wizard possibly target them all? The probability was ridiculously low. The further we run, the less effect his little spell will have!
Then, a line appeared.
It wasn't a physical obstruction, but a sudden, brilliant flash of pure, sterile white light that materialized on the forest floor directly ahead. The line seemed to pulse, a shimmering, razor-thin boundary of magic.
What is that? The spider thought, its eight eyes registering the phenomenon. I have never seen this! Never mind, charge through!
The Acromantula crossed the luminous white boundary without hesitation.
In that very instant, the feeling of absolute dread was replaced by a terrifying, total numbness.
Oddness…
Every joint, every muscle, every chitinous plate felt impossibly rigid. The spider could not move a single one of its eight legs, locked mid-stride. And its vision—why was the world suddenly blurry, hazy, as if viewed through thick, flawed glass?
Glass… ice…
The last, frozen thought was the chilling realization of what had happened to its brethren at the front lines. Then, the light in its eyes vanished, and its sprawling, monstrous mind plunged into the final, absolute cold darkness.
Behind him, the slower, more cautious spiders witnessed the horror unfold in gruesome, agonizing slow motion. Their fleeing sibling, moments after crossing the mystical white line, developed a thick, rapidly expanding layer of white rime and frost across its entire body. In the blink of an eye, it, too, was an enormous, glistening ice sculpture, the expression of panic and futile escape perfectly preserved beneath the newly filtered sunlight.
Sebastian, observing the phenomenon from his original position, gave a curt nod of satisfaction. It was a subtle, highly refined boundary charm—a magical tripwire layered with a delayed, terminal Glacius Maxima effect, activated only upon crossing the perimeter of the immediate battle zone. It was a perfect, silent demonstration: nowhere within range could they run.
The surviving spiders needed no further convincing. Their primal urge to flee was violently overwritten by the sheer terror of absolute, effortless power. In a wave of unsettling, jerky movements, every remaining Acromantula obediently turned its massive body around and scuttled back toward the silent wizard, forming a nervous, trembling semi-circle around their frozen, silenced kin.
Aragog, who still could not move or make a sound due to Sebastian's localized silencing charm, was vibrating with impotent fury. His blind gaze was fixed on the sound of Sebastian's approach.
"Who… who are you?!" the old spider rasped, the silencing charm finally lifted. "How dare you treat my children like this! Hagrid will never forgive you!"
Sebastian waved his hand dismissively. "Hagrid is a sentimental fool, and I have no interest in his forgiveness. For his sake, however, I will not terminate you. When my business here is concluded, I will personally escort you to his cabin. You will live out your remaining, blind days in comfortable retirement with your friend. You will not, however, return to the Forbidden Forest."
Sebastian surveyed the now-compliant swarm of hundreds of spiders, his expression one of a landlord whose tenants had finally decided to pay up.
"Now, is there anyone amongst you who wishes to officially serve the new administration?"
The question hung heavy in the air. The giant eight-eyed spiders exchanged anxious, darting glances. The memory of the swift, devastating ice spell was too fresh. No one dared to step forward or even click. The risk of being misinterpreted, of being the next marble statue, was too high.
Finally, after a painfully long silence, a slightly smaller, though still alarmingly large, Acromantula tentatively shuffled forward, its legs trembling.
"M-master Mage," the spider's voice stammered, its fear palpable. "What… what might your orders be?"
Sebastian instantly recognized the spider. Ah, the clever bastard. This was the one who had immediately spun the web to block the path behind him, demonstrating a quick, strategic mind.
"Excellent," Sebastian proclaimed, a genuine, warm smile replacing the coldness on his face. He waved his wand and cast an emotional spell—a simple, powerful charm of confidence and intense goodwill—directed solely at the frightened spider. "Those who understand their time are indeed wise!"
"What is your name, sir?" Sebastian asked, his voice shifting to a tone of polite, almost solicitous respect.
The spider visibly relaxed under the influence of the emotional spell, but its voice was still shaky. "I… I have no name. Only Aragog's bloodline matters here."
"Nonsense!" Sebastian declared, his voice decisive. "Names are power. From this day forward, your name is Junjie! It means 'hero' or 'outstanding talent' in an ancient tongue I know."
He then leaned in, his smile turning conspiratorial. "Now, Mr. Junjie, tell me: would you like to replace Aragog and become the uncontested, new King of the Eight-Eyed Spiders?"
Junjie the spider was utterly dumbfounded. Me? A King? Such a fantastical, impossible dream! He stared at Sebastian, a bewildered tremor running through his massive body. Slowly, cautiously, he raised a thick foreleg and pointed it at himself.
"M-me?"
"Precisely!" Sebastian affirmed, adopting the persona of a flamboyant charlatan and a seer. "I see a vast, broad forehead, a noble jawline! You possess the innate charisma and the administrative fortitude of an emperor! Believe me, Junjie, in my highly professional estimation, you are the next rightful King of the Giant Eight-Eyed Spiders."
The more Junjie listened, the more the emotional charm and the flattery took hold. His two giant pincers began to clash rapidly, not in fear, but in pure, giddy excitement. This wizard has exquisite taste! To discern, among so many superior beings, that the next king was me!
"However…" Sebastian smoothly pivoted, his voice dropping slightly in seriousness. "To solidify your ascension, you will require my official approval and my consistent magical support."
Approval. Support. Junjie's mind, though simple, raced. He glanced at the muted, furious Aragog. Aragog's reign, he suddenly realized, had been entirely dependent on Hagrid's sentimental protection. If a powerful wizard's backing is the key to kingship, then aligning myself with this much stronger wizard is not just advisable—it is essential.
Junjie's many eyes glowed with fierce, newfound ambition. He lowered his massive body in a gesture of absolute subservience.
"Sir," Junjie said, his voice now firm, imbued with the confidence of his new destiny. "Command Junjie. I guarantee that I will execute any task you require with perfect compliance."
Sebastian's grin was predatory. "Clever, very clever. No wonder you were the one who trapped me. You won't call me 'Master,' though. From now on, you call me Boss!"
"From this day forward, you are my sole, contractually obligated spider employee in the Forbidden Forest. As for the grand business of Swann Alchemy, that is secondary. First, we must remove all obstacles to your rule. Identify all spiders who would dare resist your kingship. And more importantly, point out any of your brethren who have actively fed upon human beings."
Junjie was overwhelmed with gratitude. The Boss is so thoughtful! He instinctively understood that eating human flesh was a serious taboo for this terrifying new patron. He would need to immediately impose strict new disciplinary rules upon his subordinates.
Junjie quickly looked around. He realized with some relief that most of the most aggressive, man-eating spiders had been frozen solid in the first, terrifying wave of attack. He carefully selected two remaining, particularly large males who had a history of bullying him and were also known for having previously preyed on trespassers.
He pointed a thick, venom-tipped leg at the two culprits.
A blinding flash, and two more ice blocks materialized, adding to the growing sculpture garden. The remaining Acromantulas, witnessing this chilling display of political and magical purges, sank lower to the ground in total, unquestioning submission.
"Very good," Sebastian said, his voice cold and authoritative, addressing the entire cowering swarm. "Attention, all spiders: Junjie is now the undisputed King of the Eight-Eyed Spiders. If anyone has an objection, please stand up immediately."
No one moved. Even Aragog remained mutely paralyzed, his ancient heart pounding with helpless rage.
Sebastian addressed his new subject. "Junjie, my first directive for your reign is simple. You will, using your silk, carefully control these glass vials, and inject your venom into them. Fill them entirely."
Sebastian waved his hand casually, and several crates of pristine, thick glass bottles appeared on the forest floor, each the capacity of a standard beer pint.
Junjie, with the instinct of a practiced servant, immediately scuttled forward. Using his powerful, precise silk, he looped a sturdy harness around the first glass bottle, tilting it perfectly. Then, he aimed his two wicked, venomous pincers over the mouth, and began to drip thick, viscous venom into the container.
After a sustained effort, the spider stepped back, its breathing ragged. It gave Sebastian a look of deep reverence. "It is done, Boss. Every drop has been squeezed."
Sebastian walked over and examined the bottle. It was almost exactly one-third full.
Excellent. As expected of a relatively young, prime-aged Acromantula. Aragog, he mused, was truly past his prime; the original story suggested he could only yield two thumb-sized vials of post-mortem venom. Junjie's capacity was superior.
Sebastian looked at the array of bottles and the remaining horde. Most of the survivors were smaller than Junjie, the truly massive ones all being encased in ice.
"Very well, King Junjie," Sebastian said, pulling out a list. "Here are fifty empty glass bottles."
"Your task, and that of your subjects, is to fill every single one of them within one lunar cycle—one month. You must then seal the mouth of each bottle securely with your strongest silk to prevent degradation."
"I will dispatch a staff member with a specific token every month to collect the poison and replenish your stock of empty vials."
He smiled, a predatory gleam in his eyes. "In addition, as a reward for your cooperation and industry, my staff will bring you a ton of fresh, high-quality meat—not human, of course—with every exchange. This will ensure your colony is well-fed and has no need to hunt near the school grounds."
"Aragog remains here for the moment. Do not touch him. I will return for him when I depart the Forest."
For the next two hours, Sebastian, the newly self-appointed administrator of the Forest's most dangerous colony, continued his managerial lessons. He laid out a complex, detailed set of instructions to his new King Junjie, outlining a comprehensive plan to transform the colony from a terrorist threat into a resource producer. This included:
Scientific Detox Cycle: How to scientifically plan the venom extraction schedule, ensuring the spiders maintain enough venom for necessary hunting and defense, controlling the extraction volume each time.
Territorial Boundaries: Precisely where the new, smaller, and non-negotiable territory boundary was, stressing that any spider found hunting or traversing beyond that perimeter would be summarily destroyed.
Neighborly Relations: Strict rules regarding non-aggression towards other magical creatures, particularly the Unicorns and Centaurs, ensuring a stable environment for Swann Alchemy's future development zones.
Internal Governance: Instructions on how to manage the smaller spiders and maintain discipline, eliminating any lingering cannibalistic or human-predating tendencies.
It was nearing four o'clock in the afternoon when Sebastian finally finished his corporate restructuring of the Acromantula territory. He had secured a stable, high-value source of resource (venom) and eliminated a major threat to the school, all without paying a single Galleon.
Stepping back into the relative quiet of the Forest pathways, Sebastian released his glowing Patronus—a majestic, powerful Phoenix.
"Headmaster," the ethereal bird spoke in Sebastian's voice as it soared toward the castle. "The first and most difficult stage is complete. The Acromantula colony is secured and now under new management. We are now ready to proceed to the main negotiation. I await your arrival to proceed to the Centaur tribe."
A mere two minutes later, the clear, powerful cry of a real Phoenix pierced the air. Fawkes materialized in a flash of gold and crimson flame, depositing a Disillusioned Dumbledore beside Sebastian.
Dumbledore, concealed but observing the silent, eerie field of ice sculptures in the distance, felt a profound chill that had nothing to do with the Glacius magic. He merely nodded, signaling his presence. He then moved forward, silent and invisible, following Sebastian.
Under Sebastian's pinpoint magical direction, they proceeded straight toward the known heart of the Centaur territory, marching with unwavering purpose.
They had barely traveled fifty meters when a sharp, whizzing sound cut through the air. A long, flint-tipped arrow suddenly shot out from a nearby, dense thicket, lodging itself deep into the ancient oak tree right next to Sebastian's head, vibrating fiercely.
Simultaneously, a harsh, gravelly voice echoed through the forest, thick with menace and territorial fury.
"Wizard! This is the sacred, ancient hunting grounds of the Centaurs!"
The voice was uncompromising, filled with cold, astral arrogance.
"You will turn back now. Get the hell out of here, and do not return!" The negotiation had begun.