Of course, before Fudge's appearance, others had already suffered from that strange absence.
Dumbledore himself had been intrigued and puzzled by the disappearance of the Acromantulas and that mysterious spider. That day, after seeing off Lucius and Fudge, and after reassuring Hagrid that everything was under control, he had decided to return to the forest and continue the investigation concerning the girls. However, several problems arose one after another, delaying him.
He did not believe them to be coincidences, although the variety and strangeness of the incidents made them seem so. When he finally resumed his path, he returned to the castle and discovered that the girls had already been seen there. Even so, his instincts told him something was wrong, and he went back into the forest. It was then that he endured several attacks from creatures seemingly driven into frenzy, as well as traps that, though they looked natural, clearly were not. It was evident someone—or something—wanted to stop him… and they succeeded. When he reached the place where the Acromantulas' nest should have been, there was nothing. Not a single web.
The most unsettling part was that, even with his methods and magical senses, Dumbledore could barely detect faint residual traces of magic—non-human magic—that were fading without leaving any clear trail to follow. To make matters worse, he found incriminating evidence pointing to groups of magical creature traffickers, apparently from several different countries.
That night Dumbledore did not sleep, nor did he rest well in the nights that followed. Everything had grown too chaotic, the clues too diffuse. Although there seemed to be no immediate threat to anyone, he wondered how long that tense calm would last. Perhaps age was making him paranoid, but from then on, he resolved to pay more attention to every detail. It weighed on him that, after having managed to send a major problem to Brazil for a year, things had not improved as he had hoped.
Because of all this, he was not particularly surprised by Fudge's failure and his subsequent public lies. To him, politics was irrelevant; the only thing he did was warn the professors to be more alert and to keep a close watch on a certain group of girls. He had no proof, but something deep inside told him that one student in particular might be connected to all those events.
The girls, however, knew nothing. They continued with their daily lives, investigating, studying, and living their peculiar version of a "normal school life."
Of course, some of them were more curious. Those who now knew they could meet and talk with me soon asked what it meant when the spiders called me "Dad."
My answer was simple: I confessed that, although I could not yet be considered a full-grown wizard by the standards of the magical world, I was already developing as a "mad scientist." I told them those spiders were the result of an experiment. And the girls believed it without doubt, for the spiders were far too strange to be natural creatures.
Technically, I did not lie: they were indeed the result of an experiment… I simply omitted the detail of what kind of experiment it had been, and the fact that they were, quite literally, my biological daughters. That alone was enough to calm them. Someday I would tell them the truth… perhaps in a few years. Well, Lavender already knew, but only because she found it more exciting than repulsive—which was not necessarily a good thing. In fact, I was beginning to worry that she would show up with several bestiaries to discuss with me what other creatures I should use to reproduce… or that we might do it together. Yes, "magical zoophilia" definitely needed to be added to Lavender's growing list of fetishes.
…
Meanwhile, within Hogwarts, others were also unsettled. Chief among them was McGonagall. The Transfiguration professor felt deeply uncomfortable. After the incident with a certain student with whom she had had inappropriate contact, she had thought that once he went away for a time she might free herself of that sensation of disgust… or rejection. The truth was, she wasn't even sure if the feeling was directed at herself or at that student.
Things had improved after no longer seeing him, but to her dismay, the whole affair had awakened in her an intimate frustration that had long been dormant. Since losing her husband, she had set aside her needs as a woman, dedicating herself entirely to her work and her students.
Of course, she was not the only one. Both Pomona and Pomfrey suffered from something similar, all due to the remnants of that drug they had indirectly consumed. Even second-hand, the substance was potent and left aftereffects that could last a year before fading. They did not know this, as they never imagined such a drug could exist. They simply believed their bodies were betraying them.
Madam Pomfrey had managed to cope. As a medical expert, she knew how to treat certain discomforts privately and found a way to stabilize herself. Pomona Sprout also discovered her own method. The only one seemingly unable to relieve those symptoms was Minerva McGonagall, who resisted and denied the impulses assailing her, which only gave her headaches and made everything intensify further.
Sprout, as a good friend—and someone who had suffered the same—decided to speak with her, advise her… and even left her a small gift.
Now Minerva sat in her office, staring incredulously at the card in her hand. Pomona had spoken of a certain place that offered "special services" and sold recreational items quite useful for situations like hers. Among them, according to her, there were temporary libido inhibitors that might help. The card served not only as access to that establishment, but also to claim a prize from a raffle Pomona had won. Since she had no interest in it and had seen Minerva so affected, she decided to give it to her.
The problem was that the place did not seem, to put it mildly, "respectable." It was known to some, though no one would ever admit to having been there. Relatively new, yes, but already thriving. McGonagall could hardly believe it: the card bore the image of a caricatured succubus, striking an erotic pose, blowing kisses while pleasuring itself. It was so shocking to her that she immediately dismissed the site as unworthy of existence.
Even so, curiosity got the better of her, and she began to ask discreet questions here and there. The responses were always negative: no one admitted to knowing about such a place, much less visiting it. But the little she discovered did not leave her with a better impression. According to rumors, it was little less than a luxurious brothel in disguise, where the darkest and most perverse desires could be indulged—some of them skirting, or outright crossing into, the extremely illegal.
What Minerva could not comprehend was how such a place could remain open without the Ministry shutting it down. Furthermore, from what she had heard, it required highly sophisticated magic to offer some of the "services" whispered about. How could wizards of such talent stoop to working in something so sordid?
The truth was more complex than she knew. It was not that the Ministry didn't want to close it… but that it couldn't. The place seemed to be run by experts in concealment and anti-tracking, and over time it had become practically untouchable. Their methods improved constantly, adding ever stranger layers of protection. And worse still: more and more influential people had begun using its services, for there they could obtain things impossible anywhere else—or things that would normally require immense resources and skills. No one knew how they managed it, nor that behind it all stood someone powerful: the very same giant capable of such wonders in a certain Diagon Alley business.
Despite everything, McGonagall did not throw away the card. It was a gift from her friend, and she intended to return it… eventually. After all, the prize was to be claimed on Valentine's Day, so she still had time. That was what she told herself, though she could not avoid those moments of doubt when she glanced at the drawer where she had hidden the card, wondering if perhaps it was cursed.
…
In the [Fief], I was taking stock of the spiders.
My daughters stood in formation before me, and behind them lay a heap of exaggeratedly thick webs. Beside them clustered all the offspring of the Red Queen, as well as several trembling Acromantulas held captive.
"Well, I think that's all," I said, checking my notebook one last time. "I'll set aside a special space within the Fief for you. I don't have enough funds to create an entire world, but we can work on that later. There you'll be able to build your nest however you wish. It won't be isolated: you'll have access to other areas, but you'll be the ones to regulate who comes and goes. I don't want trouble."
"We can produce or collect resources to sell," Spider-Hermione interjected seriously. "That way we'll earn money and expand our own space. Then you won't have to work so much, Daddy…"
"Look at my little entrepreneur, so clever and thoughtful." I smiled, stroking her head with tenderness.
"Brownnoser…" muttered Arache, averting her eyes with obvious envy.
"Well, in fact, it's a great idea," I continued. "Your silk could be sold, as well as your venom. Even, if you don't mind, the corpses of dead spiders or the Red Queen's spawn. But I won't force you." I went on giving them more ideas. "Also, I can enable NPC spawns in your territory, especially enemy types. That way you'll have entertainment, training, food if you devour them quickly—and another source of resources."
I was already planning out that strange ecosystem in my head, half-real and half-videogame. It wasn't a bad idea: with NPCs, my daughters could quench their bloodlust without harming anyone important. Plus, the loot drops would be another good source of income. Buying different NPC types to diversify was also an option; expensive, yes, but a solid investment.
"That's how we'll do it," I concluded. "Take the Acromantulas and settle in that space. I'll give you a hand, but if you want it to grow quickly, you'll have to help me. I'll also give you access to the mission board… but only to you. Neither the Acromantulas nor the Red Queen's offspring are allowed without my prior approval."
"Fine, but in that new world you have to put limits on the Red Queen," Aracne complained in a nearly childish tone. "She always keeps expanding her nest endlessly. I want my own space! And why is she the only one with the title of Queen? She's not better than me!"
"'Queen' is part of her name… but fine, you can call yourself Queen Aracne if that makes you happy," I said, rolling my eyes. "And you're right: Red Queen, you can't invade your sisters' territory without their permission. Understood?"
I then set about creating the space and planning its expansion. I drew a crude map on the ground with the current and future territorial divisions, so my daughters could give their opinions… and it wasn't easy to get them to agree.
"All right, it'll be divided like this. Are we all satisfied?" I asked, already mentally exhausted.
"Yes, I think that's fine…" Aracne replied arrogantly. "Now let's see which of us manages to create the best arachnid kingdom. You don't count, Red Queen—you've got it too easy, that's cheating!"
The Red Queen shrank back, pretending to be depressed, and sidled up to me making the arachnid equivalent of a sob so that I would comfort her.
It was incredible to see how, day by day, my daughters were developing ever more sophisticated emotions and thoughts.