In the headmaster's office, Snape stood in front of Dumbledore, his face twisted into a scowl. His long, black robes swayed slightly, and his legs were smeared with blood—evidence of a fresh wound.
It was obvious he had been bitten, most likely by a certain monstrous dog.
"I think you should know what happened to Quirrell," Snape said through gritted teeth. "It's one thing to keep things from me, but why let such a suspicious and malicious person become the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor?"
Snape's anger was palpable.
He and Quirrell had worked together for years. They were never particularly close, but Snape still understood the man's character. He had never been this treacherous before.
But something was different this year.
Quirrell had changed. He returned from his travels abroad and immediately applied for the Defense Against the Dark Arts position.
That alone was already enough to make Snape suspicious.
It had long been his ambition to teach that subject, yet Dumbledore had repeatedly denied his requests. And yet, Quirrell had been handed the job without question?
More importantly, was Quirrell still Quirrell?
Snape's gut told him that something about the man was fundamentally wrong.
Even knowing this, Dumbledore had still allowed him to remain at Hogwarts.
"Maybe you've gone senile," Snape muttered bitterly.
Dumbledore, however, looked completely calm, as if they were discussing nothing more than the weather.
"I arranged for this, Severus," he said serenely. "And I have my reasons."
Snape's lip curled.
"What reasons?" he snapped.
If he hadn't been so devoted to protecting Harry Potter, he might have thrown a hex at the old man just to make his crooked nose even more crooked.
Dumbledore simply smiled. "That is not something I can reveal to you yet."
Snape clenched his fists. He knew Dumbledore too well—whatever his plan was, it was dangerous. If he knew the full truth, there was no doubt he would fight against it.
And right now, Snape knew that Quirrell wasn't acting alone.
There were only two major things at Hogwarts that could attract the kind of attention Quirrell was stirring up—
One: Harry Potter, the so-called Boy Who Lived.
Two: The Philosopher's Stone.
Quirrell's true goal was likely one of these. Maybe even both.
And that was why Snape was furious.
His patience had already worn thin, so without another word, he turned on his heel and strode toward the door.
"Severus," Dumbledore called after him.
Snape paused, barely restraining the urge to ignore him.
"Take these," Dumbledore said, extending a small vial.
Inside was a thin layer of clear liquid.
"Phoenix tears," Dumbledore explained. "The three-headed dog's bite is laced with venom. You'll want to treat that sooner rather than later."
Snape snatched the vial without another word and stalked out of the office.
He was tired of Dumbledore keeping secrets from him.
The Trickster's Reward
Ethan stretched his arms, feeling the cool night air against his skin as he walked.
Even on Halloween Eve, he wasn't free from punishment—detention still had to be served.
As he made his way toward Hagrid's hut, he finally took the time to check his latest reward.
[Tricky Expert]
Achievement Goal: Successfully trick others (100/100)
Achievement Reward: A random black magic spell
The spell he had earned was called Shadow Wolf.
Ethan raised an eyebrow. Now this is interesting.
Unlike most dark curses, Shadow Wolf wasn't a direct attack spell. Instead, it summoned wolves crafted from shadows to fight for him.
But what made them truly dangerous was their nature.
First, they could split apart, similar to the French Ministry of Magic's Patronus Civet Cats—every time they absorbed a magical attack, they would divide into smaller versions of themselves.
Second, they could switch between being physical and intangible at will—much like Peeves the poltergeist.
Ethan grinned.
This meant they could slip through walls and obstacles while remaining invulnerable to most attacks. And when necessary, they could materialize to block spells—even the Killing Curse.
This could be useful.
With his new magic in mind, Ethan arrived at Hagrid's hut.
Patrolling the Forbidden Forest
Yaya, Hagrid's massive boarhound, ran up to Ethan, wagging his tail enthusiastically.
"I wish I had your talent," Hagrid muttered enviously.
For nearly half a month, Ethan had accompanied him on nightly patrols through the Forbidden Forest. And no matter how dangerous or untamed the magical creatures were, they always behaved in Ethan's presence.
Hagrid had gone from surprised to numb—and now, he was simply jealous.
Before setting out, Hagrid gave Ethan a serious look.
"The centaurs told me today that there's a dangerous fella in the forest," he warned.
Ethan immediately knew what this meant.
Voldemort.
Quirrell must have finally cracked under the pressure and gone hunting for unicorn blood to sustain himself.
This time, their patrol wasn't random—they specifically checked the habitats of valuable magical creatures: unicorns, thestrals, chimeras, and horned serpents.
But after hours of searching, Hagrid sighed.
"Strange," he muttered. "No signs anywhere."
Then, as if struck by an idea, he suddenly brightened.
"Wait! I can ask Aragog!"
Ethan raised an eyebrow. "Aragog?"
"Yeah—he's an Acromantula. Raised him myself," Hagrid said proudly. "Don't be afraid when we get there. They won't attack ya."
Ethan wasn't entirely convinced.
Hagrid really had no idea just how dangerous Acromantulas were. If left unchecked, they could easily overrun the entire Forbidden Forest.
"You sure it's a good idea to let them live here?" Ethan asked.
Hagrid frowned. "What do ya mean?"
"Have you ever thought about how much they eat? If they keep reproducing, the whole forest could be wiped out."
Hagrid waved a hand dismissively. "The forest is big—I'm sure it's fine."
Ethan sighed.
Hagrid loved magical creatures, but he definitely wasn't a biologist.
The Acromantula Colony
They soon reached the heart of the Acromantula colony.
Ethan had seen them in the movies, but standing among them in person was completely different.
There were spiders everywhere.
Massive webs covered the trees, and thick silk hung from the branches like curtains.
The smallest spiders were the size of human heads, while the largest were as big as cars.
Some of them crept closer, clicking their mandibles as if sniffing the air around Ethan.
For the first time in a long while, Ethan felt genuine unease.
Hagrid, however, strode forward without hesitation.
"Aragog! It's me!" he called.
A deep rustling sound came from the depths of the colony. Then, a massive spider—the size of a small truck—crawled out of a cave.
"Ah, Hagrid," it said in a raspy voice. "You have not visited me in some time."
Hagrid sighed. "Sorry, mate. Been busy."
They spoke for a moment before Hagrid made his request.
"I need yer help. There's a poacher in the Forbidden Forest. Think your little ones can keep an eye out?"
Aragog twitched his mandibles.
"For you, Hagrid, I will."
Ethan, meanwhile, had another idea.
He approached one of the smaller Acromantulas and held out a glass jar.
"Mind giving me some venom?" he asked casually.
The spider hesitated, then nodded.
Soon, Ethan had collected nearly seven pints of Acromantula venom—one of the rarest potion ingredients in the world.
Each pint was worth at least 100 Galleons.
This was going to be very profitable.
Final Thoughts
As they left the Acromantula colony, Hagrid remained silent, deep in thought.
Ethan glanced at him.
"I know what you're thinking," he said.
Hagrid sighed. "Aragog doesn't have much time left…"
Ethan didn't know what to say.
For all his flaws, Hagrid truly loved his creatures.
And as much as Ethan disliked Acromantulas… he knew that for Hagrid, Aragog wasn't just a spider.
He was family.
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