Chapter 78. The Scamander Family Tradition
"Who's there?" Dumbledore asked in a low voice, raising his wand.
Duncan crouched down and peered through the hole in the wall, where he saw several spiders the size of watermelons.
They were squeezed together in a cramped space, their eight eyes cautiously sizing up the outside world.
"It's not Hagrid, not Hagrid!"
"I told you already—pity you wouldn't believe me!"
The little spiders were making a racket in the hole, all scrambling to push farther in, but the space was limited and they jammed together.
Dumbledore glanced as well, gave a light wave of his wand, and the wall seemed to come alive, writhing as it eased the spiders out.
"Hagrid!" Duncan turned and waved. "There are a few more spiders over here—come and have a look!"
At Duncan's words, the little spiders, who had been about to scatter in all directions, instantly fell quiet and looked around nervously.
"Hagrid? Did he just say Hagrid?"
"Where is Hagrid? He isn't lying to us, is he?"
While the spiders chattered, Hagrid answered joyfully, and with a rumble of footsteps came running from afar.
"Where are the spiders?" Hagrid hadn't even steadied himself before he was looking around and asking anxiously.
"Hagrid? Is it really Hagrid?" Several little spiders ran to Hagrid's side and circled round him.
Hagrid bent to look at them, a mother-like tenderness on his face.
He asked gently, "Is it only you few? Where's Aragog?"
At once the little spiders' spirits flagged, their short legs slowing a great deal.
"Aragog is dead..."
"Ah?" Though he had been braced for it, Hagrid still couldn't help exclaiming, a little heartsore. "How did he die?"
"Killed by Kodor and the others..."
"Kodor?" Hagrid stared, incredulous. "How could he harm Aragog?"
By generation, Kodor ought to be Aragog's grandson, and one of the spiders Aragog trusted most.
"They all went mad, lost their minds completely, and even started killing each other! To keep us safe, Aragog had us hide in that hole and told us not to come out until you arrived. But he himself didn't run, and was killed by Kodor and the others, and..." The little spider's voice fell, as if recalling some terrifying scene. "And they ate Aragog as well..."
Acromantulas do have a habit of eating their own kind, but only when food is scarce.
In this stretch of forest where these spiders lived, food was abundant, and with Hagrid's occasional feedings besides, they lived very comfortably.
So the little spiders had never witnessed such a thing before, and seeing it for the first time dealt a huge blow to them.
"Have they eaten this kind of mushroom?" Dumbledore held the mushroom up before the spiders and asked in a grave tone.
Frightened, the little spiders shrank behind Hagrid, stole a glance forward, and said in surprise, "How do you have it too? Aragog said this was good stuff, that eating it would make us stronger, so he first shared it out to the stronger members of the tribe. But he said that after a while we'd get to eat it as well, except..."
Dumbledore and Duncan exchanged a look, each seeing doubt in the other's eyes.
"Do you know where Aragog got this kind of mushroom?" Dumbledore asked next.
"A human brought it..."
"Who was it? What did he look like?" Hagrid demanded hotly before the little spider had even finished.
His fists were clenched tight, like a man about to go to the death with someone.
"Don't know..." the little spider replied quickly. "He looked quite tall, but he was wrapped up in clothes from head to toe. Apart from Aragog, none of us ever saw what he looked like. And every time he handed the mushrooms to Aragog, he left very quickly."
"How often did he come?" Duncan asked, in his heart calculating Quirrell's usual times for going into the Forest to feed the troll.
"About every five or six days?" The little spider thought and answered. "Anyway, as soon as the mushrooms were all eaten, he'd come the next day."
"The timing doesn't match up... Quirrell usually only goes into the Forest once a week," Duncan thought to himself. "But if he used the Disillusionment Charm to sneak into the Forest, even the birds in the air wouldn't be able to spot him."
Though the evidence was insufficient, Duncan still fixed his suspicious gaze on Quirrell.
After all, at Hogwarts just now, besides him, no one else had any reason to make a move against these spiders!
Only—what was Quirrell's purpose in doing this?
Could he have meant for these Acromantulas to charge the castle together with the troll at Hallowe'en, but miscalculated the quantity of mushrooms and accidentally overfed them, so the spiders fell into madness ahead of time?
If that really was the case, then where did Quirrell obtain the poisonous mushrooms?
Faced with the sudden turn of events, Duncan's heart was full of doubts.
Dumbledore asked a few more questions, pondered for a moment, and then said to Duncan, "Go and ask your animal friends, and see whether they've spotted anyone suspicious in the Forest lately."
"All right, Professor," Duncan answered with a nod.
"Dumbledore, these spiders..." Seeing the two of them finish discussing business, Hagrid worked his lips anxiously.
"They're all good children, and they didn't eat those mushrooms." Hagrid seemed afraid Dumbledore would put the little spiders to death outright, and hurried on, "Keep them here and keep raising them..."
"No, Hagrid—we absolutely can't keep them here any longer," Dumbledore refused sternly.
"Then what do you mean to do with them?" Hagrid asked, worried.
Dumbledore considered and then asked, "Duncan, could I trouble you for a favour?"
Duncan's heart gave a little thump. "Name it, Professor."
"Could we put these spiders in your case for the time being?" Dumbledore said. "When the holidays come, I'll have someone send them where they ought to go."
Duncan gave a little chuckle. "So you knew?"
Dumbledore replied, "Ever since Newt, the Scamanders at Hogwarts have never behaved themselves—always wanting to keep all manner of odd creatures at their side. Although I've found no proof, I imagine you're no exception. You do better than they did, at least—you haven't suddenly had a Graphorn turn up in the dormitory, nor been chased by a swarm of Billywigs and gone tearing round the castle."
"Graphorn? In the dormitory?" Duncan blinked, his gossiping spirit rising. "Who was that bold?"
Dumbledore gave Duncan a sidelong glance. "Your father, Hill Scamander. He was nearly expelled for it that time."
No wonder Newt had especially warned him never to let magical creatures out.
So the Scamander family really did have this tradition!
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