Consequences

Ron and Hagrid were equally stunned.

They had rarely seen such a visible emotional reaction on Harry's face. All this from reading the memory of an Acromantula?

"H-Harry?" Hagrid asked, noticing the shift in his expression, growing visibly uneasy.

Harry gazed at Aragog and said softly, "What a surprise."

"I saw Barty Crouch Jr. in its memory."

Aragog said nothing. While intelligent, its soul wasn't as resilient as a human's and still reeled from the backlash of Legilimency. The magical intrusion had left it in visible pain.

Hagrid went pale.

Of course he knew who Barty Crouch Jr. was, and he knew exactly what it meant for Harry to see that man in Aragog's memory.

"Was that fourth year? Or fifth?" Harry murmured, casting a spell to ease Aragog's pain and rouse it.

Aragog's eight eyes filled with terror. "You're reading my memories! You wicked wiz—"

The word "wizard" didn't even leave its fangs before Harry raised his wand and conjured a spray of sparks, making Aragog instinctively choke back every curse it had ever learned from Hagrid.

"I'm not sure what year," Aragog stammered.

Harry narrowed his eyes, voice turning sharp and dangerous.

Aragog quickly added, "But I remember it clearly. That year, there was a big event at your castle. Fire dragons, a Sphinx, and those exploding tail beasts Hagrid brought…"

The Triwizard Tournament.

"So he approached you back then?" Harry nodded. "That was nearly two years ago. And even if he hasn't contacted you since, you still trusted him? Voldemort's already died several times at my hands. He's only got one or two lives left."

He said it casually, almost bored.

Aragog said nothing. A spider's face could show little expression, but its eight eyes revealed everything.

"So he's contacted you again," Harry said, picking up on the subtle shift. "How? When?"

Aragog stared at him in horror.

He's reading my thoughts too!

Ron gave an impressed whistle. Harry's ability to read people's expressions, now apparently worked on magical creatures as well?

Harry raised his wand. "Shall I continue?"

"No!" Aragog quickly replied. "We've met again."

"Hagrid feeds the Thestrals ten times, and then we meet once."

Harry turned to Hagrid.

Hagrid started counting on his fingers. "I feed them once a week… so ten times is, uh, thirty days?"

"Seventy," Harry corrected, not trusting Hagrid's math in the slightest.

He looked back to Aragog. "Always in the forest?"

Aragog nodded.

"So how does he get here?"

"I don't know," Aragog said. "He always uses that spell of yours that makes people invisible. Sometimes even my children can barely sense him."

"He's very nice. Always brings food. Though last year it was fresh… this year it's dried corpses."

Hagrid paled.

Ron frowned, gritting his teeth, hand twitching toward his wand.

They all knew exactly what Acromantulas' favorite food was—and what kind of "mummies" Aragog meant.

"He never talks about what's going on outside, even if I ask. Just says not to worry, that he'll keep bringing food."

"Even if it's dried corpses, it's better than nothing."

"He just tells us to breed more, or asks for venom. Doesn't stay long. Just about the time the moon rises to that branch."

Harry followed the direction of its gaze.

That would be about 30 to 60 minutes.

Aragog tried to recall more. "That's really all there is."

"Not very detailed," Harry said, raising his wand. "What about the contents of your conversations?"

Aragog hesitated, then sighed. "You might as well look into my memory again. I can't explain it properly."

Harry flicked his wrist.

Legilimens.

He dove deeper into the Acromantula's mind. Just like Aragog described—each visit was brief. Barty Crouch Jr. never revealed his whereabouts, dropped off bodies, asked about the spiders' numbers, urged them to lay more eggs, and left.

What truly caught Harry's attention were the corpses.

At first, they were all people whose left arms had been burned by acid—clearly former Death Eaters, likely those Crouch deemed traitors or expendable.

But after several visits, the bodies had changed. They were dried out—mummified—and included a significant number of Muggles.

Harry had seen such death before.

When Voldemort revived in the vault, sacrificial victims ended up like this.

Were these victims of the vault again?

Or perhaps another Horcrux?

These memory-echoes held no auras, no traces. No tangible clues. But they confirmed something:

Karkaroff's body wasn't among them.

The Durmstrang headmaster had seemingly vanished without a trace.

But another familiar face appeared—

Umbridge.

After being driven out of Hogwarts, she had disappeared. Now Harry saw what happened—picked up by Barty Crouch Jr.

Even in death, she was loathed. None of the spiders would touch her. They passed her corpse around until it was eventually fed to the spiderlings.

Maybe it had something to do with her manner of death.

She'd seemingly been toyed with by a troll.

Harry couldn't smell it—but he could clearly see the filth and residue on her corpse, some of which was best left undescribed.

She hadn't lasted long before dying in utter humiliation.

More and more, the corpses Crouch brought were just ordinary people.

Harry memorized their appearances.

Different regions produced different features. If he studied this more, perhaps he could pinpoint Crouch's location.

Back in the present, he ended the spell and roused Aragog.

"When was the last time you saw him?"

Aragog's voice was weak. "Not long ago."

"Hagrid has only fed the Thestrals once."

"So about two more months then?" Harry exhaled.

"If I refuse your pact," Aragog asked, "will you kill me and all my children?"

Harry nodded. "Of course."

"Even for Hagrid's sake?"

"No," Hagrid interrupted, voice trembling. "I won't ask him to spare you! You—you broke our deal! I promised Professor Dumbledore you'd never eat humans. That was the only reason you were allowed to stay in the forest!"

"How could you do this?"

Aragog spoke softly. "I've lived through many winters, Hagrid. I didn't break our agreement. I never hunted humans or harmed your students."

"He brought them."

"Gifts from a friend shouldn't be refused."

"He is no friend!" Hagrid snarled, fists clenched. "That evil man!"

Aragog said nothing.

Hagrid turned away, sobbing. "Harry, do it. My eyes… something's in them."

"He doesn't have long to live," Harry said.

Hagrid's sobs paused.

"I might have a year left…" Aragog began.

Harry chuckled. "You overestimate yourself."

He could sense it—death clung to Aragog like a shroud.

"Six months at most," Harry said.

Hagrid wept harder.

After a pause, Harry continued. "For Hagrid's sake, I'll give you that time to die naturally."

"But only if you, as an elder of the Acromantula clan, sign a pact with Hogwarts."

"Also, your territory is too large. A small plot will suffice, won't it?"

Aragog murmured, "But my children need space. They—"

"Hogwarts needs Acromantulas," Harry interrupted. "For Potions, DADA, Charms, Transfiguration…"

"I believe a portion of your children can serve as teaching materials."

"Breed all you like."

"The extras will go to the school."

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Powerstones?

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