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"Hello, Aragog, my name is Amostas Bleane. As Hagrid said, I am a professor at Hogwarts, and I also hold the position of—"
"Leave my territory, stranger! Leave immediately! I will not tell you anything!" Amostas's self-introduction was interrupted rudely by Aragog. It furiously waved its large pincers, threatening in a deep voice, "Out of respect for you being Hagrid's friend, I offer you a chance to leave!"
Dozens of feet away, the group of smaller spiders could barely contain their bloodthirsty desires. They drew closer, restlessly digging at the soil with their slender limbs, their emerald compound eyes blinking rapidly.
Their grotesque mouthparts, constantly opening and closing, seemed to be simulating the chewing of the flesh and blood of the frail human beside Hagrid. Watching the agitated spiders around him, Amostas's eyelids twitched. His expression no longer seemed as pleasant as before.
"Go back, Professor Bleane," Hagrid blinked, looking very uneasy. "Aragog and its offspring don't like living humans. In all these decades, I've never brought anyone here!" Amostas's feet didn't move.
With such a rare opportunity to glimpse the truth, how could he so easily concede? To be honest, he somewhat regretted letting Hagrid bring him here. If he were alone, perhaps communication with these eight-eyed spiders would be smoother.
"I respect you, Hagrid—" Aragog was circling in the hemispherical web in the middle of the crater. "My children obey my commands and never harm you, but I find it difficult to stop them from enjoying fresh human flesh delivered right to them, Hagrid. If your friend doesn't leave, I'm afraid on the way back to the castle, you'll have to go alone!"
"Go, Professor Bleane, you won't hear anything useful from its mouth!" The situation seemed on the verge of spiraling out of control. Hagrid said anxiously, but Amostas still calmly looked at Aragog below, unmoved, with no intention of leaving.
The 'little spiders' continued to approach. Hagrid finally couldn't hold back. He quickly walked to Amostas's side and reached out to pull Amostas's arm. But, just a moment before his fingertips touched the wizard's robe, the vortex in Amostas's eyes began to spin!
The raindrops falling from the gloomy sky turned into individual beads of water. They seemed to defy the omnipresent force of gravity, stopping their downward momentum and hovering in mid-air. As the dead leaves, shaken down by the tremors, touched the ground,
they bounced back into the air with a slow but resolute speed. The tiny raindrops, brushed aside, clearly recorded the trajectory of the falling leaves. This incredible magical scene was reflected in Hagrid's eyes, making him temporarily forget the fact that he couldn't move.
A faint breeze manifested, the sound of rain left its trace, and time seemed frozen, space trapped in amber about to solidify. All noises ceased. The spiders maintained their posture of waving their large pincers. Only their compound eyes, trembling slightly from extreme fear, proved that they were not yet dead.
Amostas unhurriedly brushed away the drifting leaves in the space before him. He circumvented clumps of bushes, passed through the blockade of the small spiders, and walked down step by step. Finally, he stood before the blind old spider at the bottom of the pit.
"So." Amostas raised his arm, slowly pressing his wand against Aragog's head. His eyes were cold, and his soft voice seemed to contain a thunderous authority. "Out of respect for you being Hagrid's friend, I offer you an opportunity to tell the truth."
A gentle breeze swept past. Aragog regained control of its massive body, but it still said nothing. Its worn-out mouthparts, due to old age, clicked sharply against each other, as if it were shivering. "I can't." Aragog's voice trembled. "That is a fear hidden in the blood; we cannot resist it."
"This is truly difficult—" Amostas rubbed his damp hair in frustration. "If you insist on saying nothing, Aragog, I'll have to go into your mind and find out myself. To be honest, I'm not keen on doing that, as it might affect your health."
"N-no." Hagrid, at the edge of the crater, frantically blinked upon hearing this. He struggled desperately, but this magical binding, which solidified the magic within his body,
was similar to the Petrification Curse suffered by Colin Creevey and Justin Finch-Fletchley. It couldn't be overcome by sheer willpower. No matter how much Hagrid struggled, he could only watch helplessly as Amostas's wand once again glowed faintly!
"Amostas." Just as Hagrid thought Aragog was doomed, a sudden, familiar voice, deep and weathered, rang out behind Hagrid. Before he could react, a silver light streaked past his body, appearing above Amostas, who was about to make a move. The silver phoenix gently flapped its wings, sprinkling dots of light into the dark surroundings.
The magic around them remained frozen, but the silver Patronus, carrying Dumbledore's spirit and will, seemed completely unaffected. It hovered steadily in mid-air, silently confronting Amostas. The crisp air was permeated with an indescribable pressure. This was a silent confrontation, and who had the upper hand was self-evident.
"I'm very sorry, Hagrid. I might have done something rude to your friend in the Forbidden Forest earlier. I hope you can forgive me—" In front of the wooden hut, a regretful Amostas, his voice tinged with self-reproach, said, "I don't know why, but in the past two years, I've developed a bad habit. When others are ill-tempered with me, I find it difficult to control my own temper."
"It's not your fault, Professor Bleane. Aragog indeed has a very bad temper." Hagrid, his face pale as if recovering from a severe illness, said with a 'smile'. The gloomy sky was still drizzling.
Amostas couldn't tell what time it was now, but passing by the Quidditch pitch, he saw the Gryffindor team, soaked and shivering, eating sandwiches under the wooden eaves of the stands, which made him realize it must be lunchtime.
"Professor Bleane!" Hermione, who had just used her wand to conjure hot air to dry Harry's wet hair, immediately saw Amostas walking along the main path from Hagrid's hut towards the castle, in the center of the courtyard. She was so excited that the sparks from her wand almost flew into Harry's eyes.
"Ah, Miss Granger." Amostas, feeling a bit displeased from his wasted trip and Dumbledore's 'humiliation,' walked towards the Quidditch pitch. "What is it, do you need something?" Hermione, braving the rain, happily ran out from under the wooden eaves.
"Where did you go this morning? I went to your office, but you weren't there. I wanted to ask if you're still writing replies for Professor Lockhart at the old time tomorrow?"
Writing replies for Professor Lockhart? Amostas paused. To be honest, ever since he discovered those interesting little secrets in Lockhart's office last weekend, Amostas hadn't thought about it again. But since Hermione brought it up, it seemed ignoring it wouldn't be very good.
"Sorry, I went to see Hagrid this morning for something. Let's stick to the old time, Miss Granger." Amostas nodded. Then, he looked at Ron under the wooden eaves, who seemed disdainful of the topic,
and Harry, who seemed very curious about his purpose in going to Hagrid's. His eyes shifted, and a subtle meaning was hidden in his smile. "It's best to bring some helpers, Miss Granger. It's a bit too much for just the two of us to handle all those letters."
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