In a deep cave, several cocoons rested on the ground. Inside, some girls were still conscious, though weakened by the venom the fangs had injected into their veins. The sounds around them were confusing: sometimes squeaks, sometimes human words, or something very similar.
"What do we do with them…?"
"They smell like Dad…"
"Dad said not to kill small humans…"
"But he also said to attack intruders…"
"Let's divide them… I like them. They're fragile, smell like Dad… they must be the type he hunts… they must have something…"
"Don't kill. Dad gets angry if we steal prey…"
"Then let's play with them while we finish the mission. When we return, we'll ask if he still wants the ones left. There are so many… Dad couldn't eat them all…"
"If he gets angry, we apologize with sad eyes, like other human prey… seems he likes that. Maybe that's why he hasn't eaten the others yet. Maybe he's playing with them too…"
"Yes… playing with them is fun. How they tremble. How they scream and cry in panic… their hearts beating so fast… It's… exciting."
...
The situation was complicated, but at last, somewhat resolved. Who would have thought it would end this way? If I hadn't left a clone at Hogwarts, I wouldn't even know things had gotten this far.
I hadn't expected the girls to enter the forest so soon. My original plan was for them to stumble upon a few acromantulas to fight after my daughters had finished their work and were no longer here. But they had to inquire with Hagrid earlier than expected, and my moves with Andromeda accelerated the imprisonment of the half-giant. Perhaps, in part, it was my fault.
Even so, it is exhausting to divert Dumbledore's attention once again. I cannot allow him to discover the legion of spiders that now inhabits the forest. Fortunately, I was able to copy Tonks's metamorphmagus ability with [Envy]; a brief appearance near the lair, under the guise of the girls, was enough to cover the situation. With the inclusion of Ginny and Luna, I can consider that concealment finished.
Now I must make sure my daughters haven't caused more trouble. Moving through this forest, now so changed, feels strange. Good thing I ordered them not to expand uncontrollably; otherwise, the situation would be unsustainable.
Mágika has perfected the creation of formations and fields. If I weren't so sensitive to magic and knowledgeable of her abilities, I might have fallen into her traps myself. No surprise the girls ended up as they did.
The webs grew denser as I advanced, and the spawn of the Red Queen became increasingly evident. Curious… I could consider myself their grandfather, perhaps the grandfather with the highest number of grandchildren in the world. I don't perceive in them the same affection their mothers have for me, but neither do they challenge or attack me, except for the more aggressive ones. The only reason I advance without trouble toward where my daughters are is my dominant aura and the Red Queen's orders.
And here I am. The common webs begin to mix with the red ones, spreading wider and wider. Tonks was right: this looks like the lair of some alien creature… only arachnid in form.
Some time later I reached the improvised nest where my daughters usually gathered: a cave. It wasn't exactly the heart of the Red Web, since the others didn't like it much, but it was close enough.
As I entered, I slowed my pace, walking calmly toward the center. They had already sensed me; there was no point in rushing or pretending stealth.
Almost all were present: Mágika, Goldie, Ghost, Spider Hermione, and Arachne. Only Red Queen was absent, though her absence was relative: she resided at the heart of the web but could participate emissively and receptively through the red threads in this cave. She could very well have come, since she lacked no mobility, but I had already sent her the signal to begin pulling back all her children, so she was organizing everything from her "control center." I intend to conclude the Forbidden Forest mission.
Although I've managed to keep Dumbledore away so far, I doubt I can hold him off much longer if he decides to investigate. It was already difficult to keep the centaurs at bay, and I only managed thanks to Marril's help. Of course, my inability to stop Dumbledore isn't due to weakness or lack of resources; it's simply not yet time to show all my cards. The effort and risk are not worth it.
"Well, girls… what trouble have you gotten into this time?" I said upon entering the cave, watching my daughters gathered. Some cocoons hung or lay on the ground; from the number, it was clear not all the girls were here.
"Dad!" several of them answered in unison, a certain reverence in their voices. Though among spiders there was no alpha hierarchy, they certainly treated me with that level of respect.
The confident gazes faltered as I advanced calmly, hands on my hips, scanning the place. I stopped at Susan. She was hanging in bondage style, with her mouth, eyes, and ears sealed. No need to guess whose work it was: Arachne's.
"Dad… we… captured your prey…" said Spider Hermione in an uncertain voice, as if she felt guilty. Not for the victims, of course.
"Those aren't prey, child." I stepped closer and ruffled her head gently before looking at the others. "Not everything is about food."
My daughters looked at me in palpable confusion, as if I were speaking a foreign language. To be expected. Of all my spider progeny, only Spider Hermione, Arachne, and Red Queen had developed desires beyond their species' instincts—or at least an understanding of them. Not necessarily good, but different.
"I told you… Dad keeps them as his toys, and I understand perfectly," said Arachne, smiling as she plunged the stinger of her tail into Susan's bare stomach. There were already several marks there; the immobilized girl convulsed in a spasm of pain.
"Arachne!" I roared furiously, raising a finger and unleashing a light energy strike at her.
"Dad!" the spider screamed, retreating and curling into a ball in a corner, trembling as she looked at me in panic.
The attack had been purely symbolic, barely stronger than a slap. But for them it was enough: the mere fact that I showed anger and was willing to act against them was sufficient to fill them with dread. Not only Arachne trembled as if I had whipped her mercilessly; the others also stepped back, afraid of having displeased me by kidnapping the girls. All except Goldie, who still seemed like a statue, though inside she felt the same fear.
I ignored their murmured apologies for a moment and lowered Susan. The girl trembled even more at the touch of my hands, terrified. Arachne knew exactly what she was doing… in the worst way. Sensory deprivation had shattered Susan's resistance completely: she couldn't stop trembling and crying at any stimulus. I don't even want to imagine the mental hell she was enduring—not seeing, not hearing, not speaking… and not knowing what would come next.
I put her unconscious quickly and examined the wounds on her stomach. At least Arachne hadn't intended to kill her; she was only "playing." The stings weren't deep, nor were they poisoned. The damage, though serious, was almost entirely psychological.
"Sorry… please… I… I…" sobbed Arachne, as if about to be executed, or worse—in her mind—abandoned.
"It's all right, don't cry… it's not so much what you did, but who you did it to." I sighed. It was always difficult to treat them like normal daughters; we didn't share the same common sense… and mine was already heavily distorted.
"Sorry, Dad… I won't touch your things again…" she muttered, approaching slowly. She tried to hug me as she had seen the girls do in the fief, but only clung to my legs in a gesture of submission. Coming from her, the proudest and most capricious, that meant a lot.
Though I knew well that she was a monster in every sense—both physical and mental—I couldn't help but soften. I stroked her head.
"There, there… it's just that you were playing too rough with one of the girls Dad wants. She's young and wouldn't last long." As I spoke, I healed Susan's wounds.
"Sorry… it's just she smells like Dad… I felt it would be like hunting with Dad… what Dad likes… sorry…" she pleaded in a broken voice.
"You know… I'm not saying I don't like your way of playing. In fact, I think it's something you inherited from me." I observed the bindings she had made on Susan's body: precise, complex, far too specific to be coincidence. I wasn't sure if Arachne had seen it somewhere or if it was innate knowledge.
"Does Dad like it too?" she asked, looking at me with those puppy eyes… though they were spider eyes.
"Yes. If it weren't one of them, the ones I don't want harmed… I might have even praised you." Then I looked at the rest of my daughters and sighed. "I think I've paid you girls too little attention. I'll take my time to play with you from now on."
"You're not angry?" Spider Hermione asked cautiously.
"A little, but I don't blame you. It's not entirely your fault. Now… let's save the girls before this gets worse. And please, don't tell me you killed one… because then, 'angry' would be an understatement." I rubbed my eyes, dreading the possibility, though deep down I felt calm: that sort of prophetic sixth sense told me they were still alive.
"They're alive… we kept them for you… Father." Mágika's shrill voice rang with certainty.
I nodded with satisfaction and pointed my wand at Susan. I cast a memory charm; after what she had suffered at Arachne's hands, any memory would be unbearable trauma. I carried her gently and laid her on a stone table covered in webs, removing the bindings from her body. Now, without wounds and without memory, she seemed to sleep peacefully. I did the same with the other cocoons, lifting them and placing them on nearby tables.
"Well. Once we deal with this problem, we can consider the Forbidden Forest mission concluded. We must erase all our traces and take the Red Queen's spawn back to the fief." I laid my hand on a strand of the Red Web, as if caressing my daughter through it. The emotional response she transmitted confirmed she understood.
My daughters reacted with relief and, at the same time, with a disturbing delight. Some barely comprehended beyond their basic instincts, but they knew they had escaped a severe reprimand for touching "my prey."
"All right… where are the other girls?" I asked once more, fearing what I was about to hear. I prayed there was nothing more traumatic than what Arachne had done. Even with memory charms, there was always the risk of subconscious recall.
At that moment, Goldie slowly approached. She opened her mouth and spat out a very recognizable green snake, drenched in that gleaming golden-glitter saliva that characterized Goldie. Even its interior seemed somehow inorganic