Cuthbert bounded to the center of the floor in two strides, twirling his wand once and tipping his chin at Regulus, face alight with anticipation.
He'd been watching from the sidelines this whole time. Now it was his turn, and there wasn't a shred of nerves in him. He was purely in it for the fun.
"Me first."
Alex trailed behind, expression reluctant, but he didn't hang back. He followed.
Regulus glanced at Cuthbert. "Hold still."
Cuthbert sucked in a breath, hitched his shoulders up, and struck what he presumably considered a ready stance.
"Legilimens."
Regulus's mental force pushed forward. No resistance whatsoever.
Hermes had at least possessed something that could be called a conscious perimeter, thin as fog, gone at the first gust, but present.
Cuthbert had nothing. His mental space stood wide open.
Regulus's will walked straight in without encountering so much as a whisper of friction, so smoothly that even he paused.
Two seconds later, he withdrew.
Cuthbert blinked. Blinked again. Bewilderment covered his face. "Did you go in?"
Regulus lowered his wand. "In and out."
Cuthbert's expression cycled through several stages: mouth opening, closing, brow furrowing, relaxing, the whole of him sinking into a confusion over what he was supposed to have felt.
He looked almost hurt. "How come I didn't feel anything?"
"That's exactly the problem."
Cuthbert swallowed. The hurt on his face curdled into something grim.
Alex's turn came. He said nothing, only nodded.
Regulus raised his wand. "Legilimens."
Alex's situation was marginally better.
When the mental push entered, he registered the intrusion. Panic flashed across his eyes, and instinct told him to pull away.
Discomfort, a rejection reflex, some vague defensive instinct stirring inside his mental space.
But that was it.
Regulus withdrew. Alex exhaled, face drawn, and reached up to wipe the sweat from his forehead.
Regulus lowered his wand and looked at the three of them.
"Hermes. Best natural talent, strong offense, zero defense, emotions too easily led. Occlumency is what you need most."
Hermes said nothing. He listened.
Regulus turned to Cuthbert and Alex.
"You two. Mentally speaking, average for a Hogwarts second-year." Before either could react, he added: "Which is no standard at all."
The corner of Cuthbert's mouth twitched. Alex dropped his gaze.
Regulus shifted direction. "Cuthbert, your instincts aren't bad. Your reaction during the intrusion was slow, but you recovered quickly once I pulled out. Alex, you could feel the breach. That's the most basic first step, and plenty of people can't manage even that."
Cuthbert's lips curled upward, then he caught himself and flattened them.
Alex lifted his head, his brow easing.
Regulus began assigning tasks.
"Hermes, Occlumency with me. At least twice a week, live Legilimency pressure sessions. Magical control on your own, the method I described. Start from your fingertips."
Hermes nodded.
Cuthbert and Alex would begin with the fundamentals of magical control, supplemented by combat drills. Occlumency could wait until they'd built a proper foundation.
"So what do we practice now?" Cuthbert raised his hand.
Regulus looked at the top of his head.
Baruk sat perched there, all eight amber eyes fixed on Regulus. His chelicerae clicked occasionally, his legs running out of room, clearly bored.
"I'll get you a sparring partner."
Regulus lifted his chin toward Baruk.
Baruk sprang off Cuthbert's head, landed on the floor, and skittered over to Regulus's feet, legs pattering against the wood.
Regulus touched a finger to him. The spell receded, and Baruk's body began to grow.
Few seconds later, a full-grown Acromantula just over two meters long stood on the floor of the Room of Requirement.
The room sensed the change. The ceiling climbed higher. The walls pushed outward.
Cuthbert's face transformed.
Palm-sized Baruk, he knew intimately. Perched on Regulus's shoulder, curled beside a pillow, rummaging through a drawer at most. Almost cute.
Minutes ago the thing had been sitting on his head, fuzzy and pleasant.
This was something else entirely. Eight thick legs supporting a body over two meters long, dark red bristles covering every surface, eight amber eyes arranged in two rows, heavy chelicerae hammering the floorboards.
Alex went paler still, a tremor running through him.
Hermes flinched too, surprise breaking through his guard for an instant.
Then he saw Cuthbert and Alex's reactions, schooled his face back into composure, folded his arms, and settled into an expression that said you two are hopeless.
Cuthbert stood frozen, staring at Baruk for a long time.
The shock faded. His eyes began to shine.
Palm-sized was cute, sure. But full-sized was magnificent.
That dark red bristle coat, those eight legs longer than he was tall, the weight behind those chelicerae striking the floor.
He took half a step forward, wanting a closer look. One of Baruk's primary eyes swiveled to lock onto him, and he stepped back.
Alex collected himself first.
Baruk was Regulus's. Regulus wouldn't let Baruk eat them. The logic was that simple.
He let out a breath, raised a hand, and gave a tentative wave. "Baruk?"
Baruk's chelicerae snapped twice, loud and resonant.
He shifted half a step forward, body dipping low, eight legs braced against the floor, and lowered his head toward Alex.
Alex held still. Cuthbert jumped back a step.
Alex glanced at Cuthbert, then back at Baruk, and muttered under his breath: "Not cute at all anymore."
Baruk continued working his chelicerae, clicking once in Cuthbert's direction. "...Little spider."
The voice had dropped several registers from its palm-sized version, deep and raspy, carrying the distinctive friction of Acromantula speech.
Another click, aimed at Alex. "...Little spider."
The corner of Regulus's mouth rose. "Don't bite. Chase only. If you catch them, you can use webbing."
Baruk clicked once, legs stamping the floor in place, the wood thumping under him. Eager.
Then he turned, all eight eyes locking onto Cuthbert and Alex in unison.
Cuthbert swore and bolted.
Baruk launched after him, eight legs cycling in alternation, the hardwood shuddering under a rapid-fire string of heavy impacts. Two meters of body, moving terrifyingly fast.
Cuthbert flung a Petrification over his shoulder mid-sprint. It struck Baruk's carapace, threw sparks, and bounced off.
A full-grown Acromantula carried considerable innate magic resistance. A young wizard's spells hit about as hard as a scratch.
He threw a Knockback Jinx.
Baruk's body shifted sideways, three legs adjusting simultaneously. The whole mass flickered to one side, dodging clean.
Then he accelerated, eight legs churning across the wood.
Cuthbert was cornered. He raised his wand and threw up a Protego.
Baruk lifted a foreleg and slammed it down. The silver barrier shuddered violently. A second strike. The Protego shattered, silver light scattering into fragments.
Before Cuthbert could react, Baruk had already spun around, rear facing him, spinnerets opening with a soft pop.
A thick, tough strand of silk shot out and wound around Cuthbert from the neck down, loop after loop, arms pinned to his sides, legs bound together. Only his head poked out.
He toppled like a plank and hit the floor, immobilized.
He swore. Then laughed, lying there looking thoroughly pleased with himself, craning toward Alex's side of the room. "Run! Run! Baruk, go get him!"
Baruk loomed over him, chelicerae clicking twice.
The top pair of primary eyes carried two distinct expressions: the left, smug; the right, delighted.
Then he turned toward Alex.
Alex had his wand up, prepared to put up a fight.
Baruk charged. Alex broke into a sprint, casting over his shoulder as he ran.
Expelliarmus. Light struck Baruk's carapace, threw sparks, accomplished nothing.
From across the room, Cuthbert yelled: "Wrong spell! What are you going to do, disarm his fangs?"
Alex ignored him and kept running.
But the spider had too many legs, and they were too agile.
All eight adjusted direction at once, the massive body torquing into a sharp turn at full speed. Before Alex could process what had happened, he was boxed into a corner.
He cast Protego. Baruk swept a foreleg sideways and the barrier broke apart in one hit, even more fragile than Cuthbert's.
But in the instant the shield shattered, Alex twisted sideways, ducking the follow-up strike, dropped low, rolled once, came up on his feet, and threw up another barrier.
Baruk didn't need to turn his head. Too many eyes. He'd watched the whole thing.
A hind leg extended, claw tip prodding the new barrier lightly. Crack. Gone.
Alex was facing Baruk's rear. No need to even aim. Spinnerets opened, silk fired, and Alex was wrapped head to toe just like Cuthbert, nothing visible but his face.
The spinnerets still trailed a strand of unretracted silk, and Baruk dragged Alex across the floor toward Cuthbert, the cocoon rasping against the wood the whole way.
He set them side by side with care.
Then lifted a foreleg and tapped each one in turn.
Cuthbert first. "...Little spider."
Alex second. "...Little spider."
The voice rumbled deep and rough, chelicerae snapping twice, the percussion rattling the air.
The two of them lay wrapped on the floor, side by side, only their heads exposed.
Cuthbert's eyes blazed with excitement, neck straining upward, trying to get a better look at Baruk's full frame.
Alex stared at the ceiling with resigned amusement, the corner of his mouth curving despite himself.
They turned to look at each other and burst out laughing.
Baruk scurried back to Regulus, lowered his body, tucked his front legs under, braced his hind legs, flattened his carapace, and tipped all eight amber eyes upward.
His chelicerae drummed the floor, rapid and eager, hindquarters lifting slightly, swaying side to side.
Regulus's mouth curved. He patted the carapace. "Let them loose. Keep going."
Baruk rose on all eight legs, clicked once in contentment, and ambled back.
Cuthbert was still wriggling on the floor. He craned his neck toward Alex. "I believe it now. He could kill us."
Alex blinked, then nodded with wholehearted agreement.
"I want one so badly."
Alex glanced at him with a flat, clinical look, privately diagnosing a serious condition.
Baruk's chelicerae closed around the silk and tugged. The strands snapped, and both of them tumbled free from the webbing.
Before they found their feet, Baruk had already retreated several paces, legs stamping the floor again, chelicerae clicking, amber eyes darting between the two of them.
For the next two hours, the Room of Requirement was chaos.
Baruk grew more enthusiastic with every round. Each time he caught them, he dragged both captives together, arranged them neatly side by side, tapped each one, and announced: little spider.
Then he'd trot back to Regulus, receive a pat on the carapace, and dash off again to resume the chase, tireless.
Cuthbert and Alex began coordinating tactics. They split up, one left, one right, trying to prevent Baruk from pursuing both at once.
Baruk shot a line of silk at the ceiling, swung his entire body through the air, cut off the slower Cuthbert, dropped back to the ground and cornered Alex, then cocooned them both and laid them out in a matched pair.
Bundled in silk, Cuthbert gasped that Alex needed to run slower. Alex pointed out, flatly, that Cuthbert had short legs.
Hermes sat cross-legged in one corner of the floor, eyes closed, working through the three steps Regulus had taught him. Identify the emotion. Push it aside. Try to build a barrier.
By ten o'clock, Cuthbert and Alex were finished. They lay side by side on the floor.
Cuthbert tipped his head back, gulping air. Alex propped himself up on his elbows, face drenched in sweat, his wand rolled to a stop beside his foot.
Baruk had shrunk back to palm-sized and sat on Regulus's shoulder.
Hermes wasn't in much better shape. Two hours of sitting cross-legged in intense concentration, mind cycling through failed attempts at barrier construction, had left him ashen and unsteady on his feet.
But they were all older now, with more stamina and more magic to draw on. Everyone could walk on their own.
The corridors were still and silent...
Cuthbert and Alex walked ahead, still debating how to coordinate next time.
Hermes trailed at the back, head bowed.
He was thinking: Am I happy?
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