Returning from his evening visit to Hagrid's hut, Adam feels a rush of excitement coursing through him. Reaching the common room entrance, Adam notices the absence of the trio. Their usual animated chatter is missing, and the sofa by the fire, a favorite spot of Harry, Ron, and Hermione, sits unoccupied. It doesn’t take long for Adam to deduce where they might be—they’re undoubtedly engrossed in their preparations for using the Polyjuice Potion. The memory of their plan makes him chuckle quietly. He can already picture Hermione's mishap with the potion, a scenario that will transform her into a cat. "Turning into a cat?" he muses with a smirk. "That’ll definitely be something to remember."
Deciding to let them have their space, Adam heads to his dormitory. The idea of visiting Aragog fuels his anticipation, making him eagerly look forward to the weekend. As he settles into bed, the murmur of whispers from the boys’ dorm fades into the background. Sleep comes easily, bringing dreams of dark forests and silken webs glinting under moonlight.
The days leading up to the weekend pass without incident, yet the tension at Hogwarts is palpable. Whispers of the Chamber of Secrets continue to swirl around the castle, as persistent and pervasive as an ominous mist creeping through the halls. Students eye each other warily, and fear is a constant undercurrent in conversations. Adam, however, remains steadfast in his routine, focusing on his studies and feeding Argos. He carefully keeps his distance from the chaos brewing around him, determined not to let it interfere with his plans.
On the morning of his planned visit to the Forbidden Forest, Adam wakes earlier than usual, feeling energized and eager. The faint light of dawn filters through the dormitory windows, painting the room in soft hues of gold and gray. After a quick stretch, he begins his day with a series of calming breathing exercises, a habit that helps him center his thoughts. Seraphina, his loyal screech owl, hoots softly as Adam scratches her head affectionately, her feathers soft and warm beneath his fingertips like always.
Once Seraphina is fed and content, Adam heads to the house-elves kitchen. The warmth of the bustling kitchen greets him, and the scent of freshly baked bread mingles with the earthy aroma of roasted vegetables. Mip, meets him at the door with a bright smile and a prepared bucket of fresh fish. "Here you go, Master Adam," Mip says, her large eyes gleaming with pride. "The fish are the finest of the day!"
“Thanks, Mip! Argos always love this,” Adam replies warmly, accepting the bucket.
The walk to the Great Lake is peaceful, the morning air crisp and invigorating. Dew glistens on the grass, and the distant sound of birdsong adds a melodic backdrop to his journey. As Adam nears the lake, the surface ripples gently under the cool breeze, reflecting the pale light of the rising sun.
With a sudden splash, Argos, the Giant Squid, emerges from the water, his tentacles playfully sending a spray of cold mist in Adam’s direction. Adam laughs, shaking droplets from his hair, and sets the bucket down by the water’s edge. "Good morning, Argos!" he calls out, his voice cheerful. Picking up a fish, he tosses it into the water with a practiced motion.
Argos catches it with ease, one tentacle rising to wave as if in thanks. “Save some for later, Argos,” Adam jokes, tossing another fish. He continues chatting animatedly as he feeds the squid, his voice filled with genuine fondness. Though Argos cannot speak, the playful splashes and responsive movements make it clear he enjoys the attention.
When the bucket is empty, Adam wipes his hands on his robes and pats the now-dry bucket. “That’s all for now, big guy. I’ll see you again.” Argos gives one last playful splash before sinking back beneath the surface, leaving behind gentle ripples.
Adam turns and heads toward Hagrid's hut, the path familiar and welcoming. He waves to a few students along the way, exchanging brief greetings. The warmth of the morning lingers as his excitement builds for the adventures yet to come.
Hagrid is tending to his garden when Adam arrives, his large hands carefully patting the soil around a row of oddly shaped pumpkins. A low hum escapes Hagrid as he works, the tune cheerful despite the eerie air that seems to settle near the Forbidden Forest in the early morning. Spotting Adam, Hagrid straightens up, brushing his hands on his massive apron.
“Mornin’, Adam!” he calls out, his booming voice echoing in the quiet. “Gimme a minute, and we’ll be off.”
Adam nods, smiling, and steps inside the hut to wait. Fang, Hagrid’s loyal boarhound, bounds over as soon as Adam enters, tail wagging furiously. Adam grins, reaching into his enchanted bag to retrieve a bone. “Here you go, Fang,” he says, handing it over. Fang takes it eagerly, retreating to his favorite corner to chew contentedly.
The familiar, cozy warmth of Hagrid’s hut envelops Adam. His eyes wander over the homely interior—the massive bed draped in a patchwork quilt, the strings of hams and pheasants hanging from the ceiling, and the ever-present copper kettle bubbling softly over the fireplace. There’s a comforting simplicity to the space, one that reflects Hagrid’s kind-hearted nature.
When Hagrid finally enters, a large sack slung effortlessly over his shoulder, his face is alight with enthusiasm. “Right, off we go,” he says with a conspiratorial grin. He lowers his voice slightly, leaning closer. “And remember—don’t tell anyone about this. Students aren’t supposed to be in the forest.”
Adam nods solemnly, though the corner of his mouth twitches in amusement. “My lips are sealed,” he assures Hagrid.
As they begin their walk into the Forbidden Forest, the atmosphere shifts. The sunlight filters through the dense canopy above, creating patterns of gold and shadow on the forest floor. Each step is accompanied by the crunch of leaves underfoot, and the air is alive with the soft rustling of unseen creatures. The occasional distant calls of magical beasts echo through the trees, adding a layer of both enchantment and unease.
Hagrid leads the way confidently, his enormous boots leaving clear prints in the soft earth. As they walk, he shares snippets of Aragog’s history, his deep voice tinged with a mix of pride and wistfulness. “Found ‘im as an egg, I did,” he says, his eyes twinkling with the memory. “Raised ‘im meself, but he got too big, too dangerous to keep close. Had to let ‘im go into the forest where he’d be safe.”
Adam listens intently, absorbing every word. He’s tempted to ask more about the circumstances surrounding Aragog’s release but decides against it. He knows the deeper truths of Hagrid’s past—how Aragog’s presence once led to unfair accusations and life-altering consequences for the gamekeeper. Pressing Hagrid for more might stir painful memories, and Adam respects the older man too much to risk that.
As they venture deeper into the forest, the atmosphere grows darker, the canopy thickening until only slivers of light manage to pierce through. The air takes on a heavy, almost oppressive quality, and the sounds of the forest seem muted, as if the creatures here are keeping their distance.
After nearly an hour of walking, they arrive at a clearing. Adam immediately notices the thick, silken webs draped across the trees, glinting faintly in the dim light. The area feels charged, as though every shadow hides a watchful pair of eyes. Hagrid comes to a halt, turning to Adam with a reassuring smile.
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“Wait 'ere,” he rumbles. “I’ll go on ahead an’ let 'em know I’m 'ere. Got some food prepped fer their colony, I 'ave.
Adam nods, watching as Hagrid disappears into the thick webbing. The giant man moves with surprising ease, pushing aside the strands of web like curtains as he makes his way deeper into the lair. Left alone, Adam feels the weight of the silence around him. Every rustle of leaves or creak of a branch makes his heart beat a little faster. The forest, usually a place of wonder for him, now feels like it’s holding its breath.
Minutes pass, though they feel much longer. When Hagrid finally returns, his wild hair is dusted with stray webs, and his apron bears smudges of dirt and spider silk. His broad grin, however, is unmistakable.
“Come on, then,” Hagrid says, his voice filled with excitement.
Adam steels himself, taking a deep breath as he steps forward. The anticipation swirls within him, equal parts exhilaration and trepidation, as he follows Hagrid into the heart of the web-strewn lair.
The lair opens up into a vast, dome-shaped hollow, the oppressive density of the forest giving way to an eerie clearing. Webbing stretches across the towering trees like a sinister canopy, shimmering faintly in the dim light that filters through. The webs, thick as ropes, crisscross in intricate patterns, some draped like curtains and others spiraling upward into the dark heights of the canopy. The air feels heavier here, the silence punctuated only by the faint rustling of unseen creatures within the webbed expanse.
As they venture deeper into the lair, Adam’s breath catches in his throat when he finally sees him—Aragog. The massive Acromantula looms in the center of the clearing, his immense body the size of a small elephant. His coarse grey and black hair bristles faintly, catching the light in uneven patches. Aragog’s legs, long and spindly but unmistakably powerful, stretch outward, spanning an area larger than a classroom. His milky white eyes, clouded and unseeing, still manage to exude an air of dominance. Though blind, Aragog’s presence is palpable, his awareness of his surroundings unnervingly precise.
“Who is this, Hagrid?” Aragog’s deep, rasping voice reverberates through the hollow, carrying a weight that makes Adam’s chest tighten.
“This here’s Adam,” Hagrid replies, his tone as warm as ever. “He’s a special lad—got a real love for magical creatures, he does.”
Aragog tilts his massive head slightly, as though turning his unseeing eyes toward Adam. The movement, slow and deliberate, feels as if the spider is studying him, assessing his worth.
“What interest do you have in us Acromantulas, boy?” Aragog asks, his voice a low rumble that seems to shake the very ground.
Adam takes a step forward, steadying his breath. His heart thunders in his chest, but he speaks with clarity, his voice carrying the genuine admiration he feels. “I’ve always been fascinated by magical creatures, and your kind is extraordinary. Your strength, intelligence, and the way you’ve built a thriving colony here—it’s incredible.”
For a moment, there’s silence, broken only by the faint rustling of movement from the shadows. Aragog seems to consider Adam’s words, his immense body remaining still as if deep in thought.
“You are bold to come here,” Aragog finally says, his tone contemplative. “Many would fear us, and rightly so. Why do you not?”
Adam meets Aragog’s unseen gaze with determination. “I respect your kind,” he says sincerely, his voice steady. “And I believe respect is returned when it’s given.”
Hagrid smiles broadly at Adam’s response, his chest swelling with pride. The atmosphere shifts slightly, the tension easing just a fraction as Adam’s words seem to resonate with the ancient spider.
Reaching into his enchanted bag, Adam retrieves a large slab of meat, holding it out carefully with both hands. “This is for you,” he says, his tone calm and respectful.
Aragog leans forward, his massive fangs glinting faintly as he takes the offering. Despite his size, his movements are surprisingly gentle, the slab disappearing into his maw with a soft crunch. “You may visit again,” Aragog says after a moment, his rasping voice softer now, almost approving. “A friend of Hagrid is a friend of mine.”
Relief and pride swell within Adam as he smiles, feeling a profound sense of accomplishment. Establishing trust with a creature as formidable as Aragog is no small feat. Yet before they turn to leave, Aragog adds a grave warning, his tone darkening.
“Beware, though,” he says, his voice cutting through the air like a blade. “Not all my children will show you the same courtesy.”
Adam nods, understanding the weight of the warning. Even as a guest, he is aware that the trust of an Acromantula colony is precarious and must be earned individually.
The journey back to the edge of the forest feels lighter, though the undercurrent of danger remains. The sunlight filtering through the trees seems brighter as they leave the darker heart of the forest behind. Hagrid, walking beside Adam, claps a hand on his shoulder, the gesture nearly knocking him off balance.
“Yeh did good, Adam,” Hagrid says, his voice full of approval. “But remember what I said—Acromantulas are dangerous. Don’t take their trust for granted.”
Adam looks up at the towering figure of Hagrid, his respect for the gamekeeper growing even more. “I won’t,” Adam promises earnestly.
Hagrid grins, and the two continue their walk, the forest gradually giving way to the open grounds of Hogwarts. The encounter with Aragog lingers in Adam’s mind, a memory he knows will stay with him for years to come.
The week slipped by uneventfully, a calm lull that settled over the castle. But as Saturday dawned, it brought with it a surge of excitement—the Gryffindor versus Slytherin Quidditch match. By breakfast, the Great Hall was alive with anticipation. Students crowded around tables, voices raised as they debated strategies, strengths, and weaknesses of the teams. Banners in scarlet and green adorned the walls, adding to the competitive energy that pulsed through the room.
Harry sat at the Gryffindor table, wedged between Ron and Hermione, his nerves evident in the way he absentmindedly pushed scrambled eggs around his plate. “What if Malfoy’s Nimbus 2001s give them the edge?” he muttered, casting a glance toward the Slytherin table where Draco lounged confidently, his broomstick resting casually beside him.
“You’ve beaten him before,” Hermione said, her tone firm and reassuring. “A better broom doesn’t make him a better player.”
Ron chimed in with a grin. “Yeah, Harry. Malfoy might have a fancy broom, but you’ve got actual skill.”
Adam, seated a little further down the table, nodded in agreement. “They’re right. You’ve outflown him before, and you’ll do it again,” he said. Still, his thoughts lingered on what he knew was coming—the enchanted Bludger set to target Harry, courtesy of Dobby’s misguided attempt to protect him. Adam smirked to himself. Everyone wants to hex Harry in one way or another.
When the match began, the stands erupted in cheers and jeers, a cacophony of house pride on full display. The Slytherin team immediately took the lead, their Nimbus 2001s giving them a speed advantage that was hard to ignore. The green-clad players zipped across the field with precision, their brooms cutting through the air like blades.
Despite the initial disadvantage, Gryffindor fought back with ferocity. Their Chasers wove intricate patterns through the opposing team, scoring goal after goal as the crowd roared in approval. Above it all, Harry darted and dived, his eyes scanning the skies for the telltale glint of gold.
The game took a dangerous turn when the rogue Bludger locked onto Harry. The bewitched ball was relentless, trailing him with unnerving accuracy. Each dodge became more desperate as it whizzed past him, missing by inches. The crowd gasped and murmured, tension mounting with every close call.
Despite his attempts to dodge, the enchanted ball finally struck, slamming into his arm with a sickening crunch. Pain shot through him, but Harry didn’t stop. Gritting his teeth and ignoring his now useless arm, he spotted the Golden Snitch fluttering near the ground.
Harry dived, steering with one hand and leaning into sheer determination. At the last second, he reached out and grabbed the Snitch with his good arm, securing Gryffindor’s victory. The stands erupted into cheers, but Harry barely heard them as he plummeted to the ground, clutching his injured arm.
Adam, who had been watching intently, reacted immediately. With a quick flick of his wand, he cast a Reductor Curse that shattered the rogue Bludger into harmless shards before it could cause further harm.
Lockhart, ever eager for attention, swept onto the field with exaggerated confidence. “Step aside! I can handle this!” he declared, ignoring Harry’s weak protests.
Lockhart’s spellwork, as expected, went disastrously wrong. Instead of mending Harry’s broken arm, he removed the bones entirely, leaving Harry’s arm limp and rubbery. A collective groan rippled through the Gryffindor supporters, and even the Slytherins looked momentarily taken aback.
As Harry was rushed to the hospital wing, Adam couldn’t help but chuckle at the absurdity of the situation. Turning to Ron and Hermione, he quipped, “Well, at least it’s a good story. I’m sure he’ll laugh about it someday. Probably.”
Adam learned about another attack the very next day that had left Colin Creevey petrified. The news stirred a mix of emotions within him, but his thoughts soon shifted to his own plan, which was steadily moving closer to execution.