Same Day.

Thursday, Sept. 12

Hermione reached into her sleeve, grabbed the hilt of her wand where it stuck out from the holster Harry had given her, and drew it as fast as she could.

“Not bad,” Harry said, as she stood with the tip of the weapon pointed at an imaginary opponent.

Hermione paused. She’d just thought of her wand as a weapon; she’d never done that before.

With some effort, the girl shook off the thought and said, “I’m still not as fast as you.”

Harry chuckled. “Hermione, I practiced this one move for hours everyday for over a month, not to mention I have really good reflexes, it would be weird if you were as fast as me already. Not to mention depressing.”

Grudgingly, Hermione had to admit that he was right, but, as far as she was concerned, that was simply a reason to practice until she could match Harry’s speed, maybe even surpass it.

As she made to resheathe her wand, Hedwig returned.

After the rainbow butterfly had hatched, and then flown off into the sunset (which had been a rather sad moment), Hermione and Harry had sent Hedwig to get Arden, the centaur lady, so they could ask for her help in finding the acromantulas.

During their wait for the owl to return, Harry had given her both his spare wand holster and invisibility cloak.

“Just in case,” he’d said. Hermione agreed.

Considering who they were waiting for, Hermione and Harry had parked themselves just inside The Forbidden Forest, but far enough away from Hagrid’s hut that they wouldn’t have to worry about the man spotting them. Thanks to that, Hedwig didn’t need to perch on either of them when she returned, but was able to take one of the many convenient branches instead.

“Hedwig, you’re back,” Hermione said.

“Did you find Arden?” Harry asked, and the owl pointed deeper into the forest with a wing.

With how long ago sunset was, the forest was dark enough that the brightness of the two little lights Hermione had made—just enough for them to see by, but hopefully not enough to be seen from outside the forest—did not reach very far, because of this, Arden’s arrival was heralded more by the sound of her hooves coming into gentle contact with the forest floor, than by sight.

Arden looked as she had the last time they’d met her, and Hermione was surprised to find that her recollection of the centaur’s features were wrong.

In her memories, the centaur had looked more human, more... normal. Meeting her again and being reminded of how alien Arden’s features really were was rather jarring for a bit.

The centaur walked up to them, well into the paltry glow from Hermione’s lights. “Hermione Granger. Harry Potter,” she said, eyes moving from one to the other in line with her words.

“Hello, Arden,” Hermione said, while Harry just gave one of his small waves.

“You called for me,” Arden said without preamble.

Hermione nodded. “We need your help to find the acromantulas,” she said.

“You will meet with them tonight, then?” Arden asked.

The girl nodded again. “We thought it would be better to do it at night because they’re nocturnal,” she explained.

“Yeah,” Harry added, “wouldn’t want them cranky from lack of sleep while we tried to negotiate.”

“Thoughtful,” Arden said, “but it leaves you at a disadvantage.”

Hermione nodded; she and Harry had thought of that.

“Do you think we should wait for daylight, then?” she asked, seeking the centaur’s advice.

“No,” Arden said. “I think you should drop this fruitless plan; the spiders are savage beasts with little sense, nothing will come of this.”

Hermione blinked. She turned to harry, who looked just as surprised; they’d both assumed that Arden was supportive of the plan.

The worst part was the centaur hadn’t even sounded angry or... anything really, when she said it. She’d simply spoken with the same kind of simple assuredness with which a person would say that fire burns.

It made Hermione a little less confident in this whole endeavour.

Before the girl could begin to overthink things however, Arden said, “Come,” and began to walk away. And with no choice in the matter, Hermione and Harry followed on the ground, as Hedwig did in the trees.

The walk was long, slow, and quiet but for the sounds of the forest at night, and the only thing that kept it from being terrifying was the abundance of light they had around them to keep the shadows away. That, and the presence of her friend beside her, as well as Hedwig’s occasional call from up in the trees. It was a constant assurance to the girl that she wasn’t alone in this.

Naturally, Harry was the first to break the silence.

“You know,” the boy said, “this whole thing kinda reminds me of Hansel and Gretel.”

Hermione looked at him. “This is nothing like Hansel and Gretel.”

“Yes, it is; two kids follow a strange woman made of breadcrumbs into an enchanted forest, where they then have to compete in a tournament of doom in order to free their evil stepmother from the vile clutches of a humble woodsman, who’s also, and here’s the twist, their father.

“Hansel and Gretel.”

“You haven’t read Hansel and Gretel, have you?” Hermione asked after several seconds of just staring at the boy.

“Nope,” Harry said, popping the ‘p’. “Seen the movie though. The one with Jeremy Renner; it was awesome.”

That name sounded familiar for some reason.

“Who’s Jeremy Renner?”

“Hawkeye.”

Oh, right. “Your favourite Avenger.”

“Hey, you remembered,” Harry said with a big smile of pleasant surprise.

Hermione just gave him a flat look, with the unending lecture Harry had given her about all the Avengers and why Hawkeye was the “awesomest one to ever walk the face of the Earth” (his words), it was harder at this point to not remember. He had been so serious about it that she’d almost caved and taken notes at the time, for goodness sake.

Harry, either not noticing her expression or uncaring of it, sighed wistfully. “I can’t believe I have to wait thirty years to watch the series... wait. What if my coming back in time causes a butterfly effect that causes the first Iron man movie to flop for some reason, thereby creating an alternate reality where the Avengers movie was never made and Hawkeye never hit the big screen?”

The boy turned to her, an expression of what she would have once thought to be genuine horror on his face. “Hermione, I think I’m having an existential crisis.”

She rolled her eyes. “It’s just a movie, Harry.”

The boy gasped dramatically with a hand on his heart. “You did not just say—”

“We are here,” Arden interrupted, and a sibilant, female voice agreed from the shadows up ahead: “Yes, you are.”

In an instant, Harry had his wand drawn, all signs of playfulness gone, while Hermione first had to abort a motion for the pocket of her robes, before remembering where her wand actually was and going for the holster instead.

Even as Hermione drew her wand, the strange voice was still speaking. “Although, I have to wonder why a centaur has brought two little spell weavers to us; a peace offering perhaps?”

“The border is where their webs begin,” Arden said. “I will wait here for your return.”

The centaur didn’t turn, but it was clear who she was talking to, and, after taking a moment to prepare themselves, Hermione and Harry walked forward.

It was over twenty feet to the point where the webs began, and the pair stopped some feet away from the first one they could see, and through it all, Hermione kept repeating to herself like a mantra, “be bold.”

The problem when dealing with acromantulas, the girl had learned after her talk with Hagrid, wasn’t that you couldn’t afford to show fear. It was what the acromantulas considered to be showing fear.

For example; if Hermione were to take Harry’s hand right now, the spiders will either interpret it as him needing to be led, therefore weak, or her needing comfort, therefore weak.

They believe in the strength of the individual above all else. It was probably why Hedwig was staying up in the trees, now that Hermione thought about it. The owl probably didn’t want the acromantulas to think that Hermione and Harry needed her help.

Quietly, much more than Hermione would have thought a creature that big could move, an acromantula walked into the reach of their light, all the way up to the very border of the spider territory a few feet from them.

Up in the trees, red eyes began to appear, so many that Hermione had to remind herself that every eight only counted for one spider just to calm her nerves.

As the spiders increased in numbers, so did their hissing increase in volume, until, soon, it was this constant, piercing thing that seemed to be chipping away at her mind.

Harry spoke. “Jesus, will you all shut up already? You’re making my tinnitus act up.”

Surprisingly, it worked; every acromantula present immediately fell silent. All except the one closest to them.

“Well now,” she said; it was the same voice that had first spoken, “the little spell weaver has found his little courage. I wonder where that was earlier when that door dropped you in the heart of our home.”

Hermione frowned in confusion for a second before realisation dawned; the creepy place with the acromantulas that The Room of Requirement had opened into earlier today hadn’t been a fabrication. The door had actually somehow portaled them to the acromantulas in the forest.

From the expression on Harry’s face, he had figured it out too, as well as the other thing; they had run from the spiders already.

It was too late, the acromantulas already saw them as weak, and there was probably nothing they could do, short of killing some, to change their mind. And, mean, man-eating spiders or not, Hermione didn’t really like the thought of killing anyone.

It was a curious thought that those same spiders would very likely think her weak for that.

Their shock over the recent revelation must have looked like hesitation to the spiders, because the one in front, the only one that had spoken so far, let out a hissing laugh that caused more venom to drip down her fangs, and said, “Run back to your castle, little spell weavers. Hunting you will bring us no joy.” And then the hissing resumed.

Hermione stood still as the dissonant, yet paradoxically harmonious hissing of dozens of acromantulas rose in volume.

She was angry.

Here she was trying to stop a madman, because apparently, everyone else either couldn’t or wouldn’t, and yet these... people, were acting like the boys in her school who dared each other to do dangerous things for the stupidest reasons, and then made fun of those who were smart enough not to engage.

So what that she and Harry ran away before. Of course they had. Their lives had been in danger; any sane person would have done the same. But now the acromantulas wouldn’t even talk to them because of it.

Well, fine. They want a show of strength? She would give them a show of strength.

In her hand, Hermione’s wand grew warm as it thrummed with eagerness, and the girl cast a spell that she’d learnt yesterday but hadn’t even practiced because of how terrifying it was.

“Conflagra.”

Fire exploded outward from where she stood, reaching almost twenty feet in every direction. It covered Harry, the trees, and all of the spiders within reach, and despite the very real heat they could all feel from the flames, not a single thing was singed; the conflagration had parted around every single one, bathing them in heat and light without actually burning anything.

In the still silence that followed, Hermione Granger walked forward, breathing hard but steady, and when she was face to face with the giant, man-eating arachnid, close enough to smell her rancid breath, she said: “Take us to your leader.”