After lunch, Loren returned to the dormitory for a nap and found Spare Rations already waiting with Hagrid's reply.
Spare Rations was one of Loren's potion experiments. After his modifications, the owl's intelligence and magic had grown significantly—enough that it could overwhelm anyone in the dorm besides Loren himself.
Of course, it also knew better than to show up at the dining table during meals, lest its name become literal. So, it had waited patiently in the dorm.
Loren unfastened the note from its leg. Hagrid's broad, familiar scrawl read:
"Glad for your letter. I've already prepared the perfect pet for Ron. You can come by my hut after classes this afternoon."
Though unsigned, the handwriting was unmistakably Hagrid's. Loren tossed the note onto Ron's bed and lay down for a nap.
About ten minutes later, Ron, Harry, and Neville returned to grab their Herbology books.
On the way, Ron had been chattering nonstop about the pet Hagrid was supposedly preparing, worrying if he'd agree, then speculating endlessly on what kind of creature it might be.
As Ron gathered his books, he spotted the note, read it, and burst into cheers—only to be silenced mid-celebration by Loren's lazy "Petrificus Totalus." He toppled stiffly to the floor.
Harry and Neville exchanged looks of relief. Ron had gone on about this new pet all morning. At first they'd humored him, but after the fifth repetition, it had grown unbearable. Loren's spell was, frankly, a mercy.
They hauled Ron back into bed and turned to their Herbology texts, pre-studying in peace. With Neville's guidance, Harry was even showing signs of diligence.
When Loren woke, he lifted the spell. A chastened Ron kept quiet, though anticipation still burned in his eyes. He even cast longing glances toward Hagrid's hut.
During Herbology class, Ron drifted in a daydream. Without Harry and Neville covering for him, Gryffindor would have lost points by the handful.
As soon as class ended, Ron looked pleadingly at Loren, who had wanted to linger and ask Professor Sprout questions. With no choice, Loren led the group toward Hagrid's hut. Sprout watched them go, puzzled that her most inquisitive student hadn't stayed behind.
Five of them made the walk. Along the way, Loren explained to Hermione the whole situation. She had, of course, already deduced the truth—her enchanted glasses showed Scabbers' magic far outstripping Ron's. Only a fool wouldn't suspect.
But Hermione understood discretion. Loren hadn't exposed the rat, so she had played along, befriending Ron as usual. Now that Loren was arranging a new pet, she knew the matter was settled.
She said nothing, simply held Loren's hand and walked beside him.
They arrived at Hagrid's hut to find him in unusually high spirits. He waved at them from afar and ushered them inside with uncharacteristic enthusiasm. Tea and scones were already laid out.
As they settled, Hagrid beamed.
"Loren, I was thrilled by your letter. The moment I got it, I thought about what to give Ron. I finally picked the cutest of my pet's offspring, just for him."
His eyes watered as he spoke. Loren, mid-petting Fang, stiffened briefly as certain thoughts crossed his mind, then smiled wider.
"Ron, treat your new pet well. Hagrid chose carefully for you."
Ron puffed out his chest, swearing he would. Then he asked eagerly:
"Hagrid, I'm honored to adopt one of your pet's children. Where's the puppy? I can't wait!"
"Puppy?" Hagrid repeated, baffled. "When did I say it was a dog?"
"Fang's your pet, isn't he? Then it must be one of his puppies."
To Ron, Fang was obviously Hagrid's pet, and his offspring would be ordinary dogs. Which suited him fine. Anything was better than a rat.
"Fang's just my hound, a watchdog. My pet's a magical creature. He's very old now—may not live many more years."
Hagrid spoke with pride, but his voice dimmed with sorrow at the thought of Aragog's fading life.
Ron, flustered, tried to comfort him. "Scabbers left me because he was old too. He didn't want me to see him die. Maybe your pet feels the same."
Hagrid burst into tears, clutching Ron and sobbing. Ron awkwardly patted his back as they comforted each other.
The room's atmosphere split: Hagrid and Ron crying in a corner, Loren and Hermione whispering while stroking Fang, Neville gnawing on a rock cake loud enough to grate, and Harry sitting helplessly with a cup of tea, unsure what to do.
At last, Loren cut in. "Hagrid, show Ron his pet. Since it's a magical creature, you'll have to teach him how to care for it. And we've got evening lessons."
"Oh, right! Wait here."
Hagrid fetched a massive wooden box, carrying it back with care, and set it before Ron.
Ron's eyes gleamed at the size. He rubbed his hands together and flung open the lid.
Inside, a spider the size of his head reared up. Ron's face drained of all color; he went rigid.
"See? A darling baby! I chose it specially from Aragog's brood. Gentle, sweet—look how happy you—"
Hagrid trailed off. Ron wasn't happy. He was petrified.
The spider crept forward, brushing Ron with a furry leg. He toppled backward, unconscious.
Harry swallowed hard, legs trembling. "Hagrid… Ron's terrified of spiders. Really terrified."
Hagrid sighed, placing the young Acromantula back in its box. He had hoped Ron would take to it, but fear was fear.
"Give it to me," Loren said smoothly. "I find it rather cute. I'll see to it. As for Ron's pet, leave that to me."
Hagrid brightened instantly, grateful that Loren at least appreciated his choice.
Loren, meanwhile, already had plans. He recalled an anime with a stand-up comedian spider, oddly endearing. An Acromantula could be trained, even cultivated. Its intelligence was worth investing in.
Hermione recognized the species too but said nothing. With Loren taking charge, it would be managed.
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