Rewind two minutes.
"Are you certain this is the right way, Ron?" Harry Potter rubbed his temples, staring at a suit of armor that looked suspiciously like the one they had passed three times already. He turned to the redhead beside him, asking the question for the umpteenth time.
Ron Weasley scratched his head, his face a portrait of uncertainty. "Er… I think so? Isn't the Transfiguration classroom over that way? We just came down the stairs, then passed that corridor with the tapestries…"
"Alright, admit it," Harry sighed. "You don't remember."
"I don't remember," Ron admitted, surrendering the fight.
Harry let out a long breath, unsure what to say. The situation was painfully obvious. In their enthusiastic attempt to locate the Potions classroom a day early, mostly to avoid giving Professor Snape any excuse to deduct points, they had successfully managed to get hopelessly lost.
Harry was convinced they were on the wrong floor entirely. The Grand Staircase had a nasty habit of pivoting right when you were not looking, depositing students wherever it felt like rather than where they needed to go. Their destination should have been the dungeons, yet here they were, seemingly climbing higher.
It was then, out of the corner of his eye, that Harry spotted something odd. Above them, skittering across the vaulted ceiling, a dark shadow was moving with alarming speed.
"Ron," Harry whispered, tugging sharply on his friend's sleeve. "Look up."
Ron blinked, confused, and tilted his head back.
He then witnessed a sight that would fuel his nightmares for years to come.
Clinging to the rough stone of the ceiling was a massive, hairy, jet black creature, scurrying along on eight spindly, articulated legs.
"S… S… Spi…"
It is often said that the more you fear something, the more likely it is to happen. Ron had not even finished the word before the spider detached itself from the stone and dropped straight toward him.
It moved too fast for human reflexes. Before Ron could even scramble backward, the creature landed with a heavy thud directly onto his leg.
A sharp, drilling pain shot up his calf.
"Argh!"
Ron let out a strangled yelp as the spider clamped its mandibles onto his trouser leg. The sharp pincers pierced through the fabric and sank deep into his flesh. Blood began to bloom across the grey wool.
"Get off! Get off me!"
Terrified out of his wits, Ron kicked his leg wildly, trying to dislodge the beast. But the spider held on with grim determination, swinging like a pendulum with every kick, which only served to tear the wound open further.
Harry's mind went blank.
He did not have time to think. Adrenaline surged through his veins, overriding his fear. He lunged forward, drew his foot back, and delivered a football style kick with every ounce of strength he possessed, aiming right for the creature's bulbous abdomen.
Thwack!
His shoe connected solidly with the spider's soft underbelly.
The creature was launched into the air like a hairy Quaffle, tumbling end over end before smashing into the stone wall with a wet splat.
Harry did not get a chance to sigh in relief. The spider, proving far more resilient than a common house pest, shook its head, righted itself, and fixed its eight cold, unblinking eyes on Harry.
'If only I knew some actual magic', Harry thought desperately. It was the only thought his panic allowed.
The spider crouched, tensing its legs to spring at Harry.
"Stupefy!"
A jet of red light shot from the far end of the corridor, striking the spider mid pounce. The creature went rigid, its legs curling inward as it toppled over, unconscious.
Harry whipped his head around. Three older students were jogging toward them. Two of them were unmistakable redheads he had met at the Opening Feast, the Weasley twins.
"Looks like we were not too late after all," Fred said, tucking his wand away with a dramatic sigh of relief.
"No, I am afraid we were a tad slow," said the third boy, Maurise, pointing at Ron. The boy was currently on the floor, pale faced and clutching his leg. "That one looks like he has seen better days."
George knelt beside his younger brother. He peeled back the blood soaked fabric of Ron's trousers to reveal a nasty, jagged puncture wound.
After a quick glance, George waved a hand dismissively. "Oh, it is just a flesh wound. Nothing to write home about."
"Is that so?" Maurise asked, raising an eyebrow.
To Maurise, who still held onto his Muggle sensibilities, the wound looked serious. It was deep, jagged, and bleeding freely. In a normal hospital, that would mean stitches and weeks of recovery. Yet to the wizards, it was apparently a minor inconvenience. It seemed magical medicine really was leagues ahead of the NHS.
"Let us secure the spider first," George told Maurise. "Though perhaps a wooden box is not the best idea for this one."
"I will need to transfigure something sturdier then," Maurise replied, drawing his wand.
"Just use that," Fred suggested, pointing a thumb at the empty helmet of the suit of armor standing next to them.
Clang!
The armor, seemingly sensing Fred's disrespectful intent, dropped the sword it was holding and clamped both metal gauntlets protectively over its helmet, shaking its head vigorously.
"Well, looks like he is not volunteering," Maurise shrugged. He stepped forward, levitated the unconscious Acromantula into his hand, and cast a quick Withering Curse on it for good measure to keep it weak.
Meanwhile, Ron was hissing in pain, cold sweat beading on his forehead. He looked up to see Fred and George chatting casually about boxes while he bled out.
"Do not just stand there!" Ron roared, his voice cracking with a mix of tears and fury. "Get me to the Hospital Wing! I am dying here!"
At that moment, Ron seriously questioned if he was actually adopted.
"Relax, ickle Ronniekins," Fred grinned. "You are a long, long way from dying. This does not need Madam Pomfrey. George, you got the Essence of Dittany?"
"Always," George said, pulling a small brown bottle and a roll of bandages from his robes.
"We get injured a lot in the name of science, so we carry supplies," George explained to Maurise as he uncorked the bottle. He deftly dripped a few drops of the pungent liquid onto the open wound. Greenish smoke billowed up, accompanied by a sizzling sound. "For the uninitiated, this is Essence of Dittany. Cures most scrapes and bites in seconds."
He quickly wrapped the bandage around Ron's leg, giving his brother a hearty slap on the shoulder that made Ron yelp again. "There you go. Good as new. We have had explosions blow up in our faces that hurt worse than this, so stop blubbering."
Maurise noted silently that having explosions blow up in one's face was not exactly something to brag about.
Ron looked down at his leg. The searing pain had vanished, replaced by a cool, soothing sensation. He wiped his eyes furiously.
"I was not blubbering," Ron muttered, his ears turning pink. "It was just… the shock."
Harry, still shaking slightly, stared at the unconscious black creature in Maurise's hand. "What on earth is that thing? And why did it attack us?"
Maurise glanced at the twins. They were making subtle hand gestures, signaling him to keep quiet about the illegal nature of the creature. Unfortunately, Maurise did not possess Legilimency, so he could not read their exact intent, but he could guess the general gist.
Do not get Hagrid in trouble.
"Just a naughty pet spider that got loose," Maurise lied smoothly, extending a hand to Harry. "Ah, where are my manners? You are Harry Potter, correct? I am Maurise Black, Ravenclaw, first year."
"Hi. Yeah, I am Harry," Harry shook his hand, though his eyes kept darting back to the hairy legs dangling from Maurise's grip.
So this was the magical world. Even the spiders were militant. It was a far cry from Little Whinging. Harry had spent years sleeping in a cupboard under the stairs, where spiders were his only roommates. The biggest one he had ever seen was the size of a coin, and they usually ran away from people.
This thing had treated Ron like a buffet.
Harry made a mental note to check his bed sheets thoroughly every single night. If one of those things crawled into his dormitory while he was sleeping, he preferred not to think about it.