Two minutes earlier.
"Are you sure this is the way, Ron?" Harry Potter rubbed his forehead as he studied the vaguely familiar suit of armor, checking again with the boy beside him.
Ron Weasley scratched his red hair, his uncertainty obvious. "Er… I think so. The Transfiguration class is just over there, right? We came down the stairs, walked along a corridor…"
Harry sighed, momentarily lost for words.
The situation was clear: in their effort to find tomorrow's Potion class ahead of time, they had succeeded only in getting thoroughly lost. Harry suspected they were on the wrong floor; the marble staircase had a maddening habit of rotating when they weren't paying attention. Their destination should have been one level up.
Just then, Harry caught something in his peripheral vision: a black shape scuttling across the ceiling directly above them.
"Ron—look up!" Harry hissed, tugging at his friend's sleeve.
Ron looked up, blinking, and froze at the sight above him.
On the rough stone ceiling, a massive, hairy black creature raced along on eight spindly legs.
"S-sp-spi…" he stammered.
The thing you fear most is always the thing that happens next.
Before Ron could finish, the spider dropped like lightning—straight onto his leg.
It happened so fast he barely had time to react. The creature clamped its fangs deep into the fabric and flesh of his lower leg, and blood was already welling.
"Agh—!" Ron yelped, panic rising. He kicked wildly, trying to shake it off, but the spider clung with frightening strength. Every thrash only tore the wound wider.
Harry's mind went blank at the sight. Adrenaline surged through him, forcing action.
He rushed forward and, with every ounce of strength, slammed his foot into the spider clamped to Ron's shin.
Thud!
His shoe connected with the spider's soft abdomen squarely. The creature flew like a tangled ball of yarn, smacking into the wall before collapsing to the floor.
Yet before Harry could catch his breath, the spider shook itself, rose, and fixed its cold, compound eyes on him.
If only I already knew magic, Harry thought frantically.
The spider tensed to spring again—
"Stupefy!"
A spell streaked down the corridor, hitting the poised Acromantula dead-on. The spider stiffened and crumpled motionless.
Harry spun around to see three older students hurrying toward them. Two of them were familiar from the Start-of-Term feast: the Weasley twins.
"Looks like we're not too late," Fred said, lowering his wand with relief.
"Actually, we might be," Morris, the third student, said, pointing at Ron, who was pale and sweating on the floor.
George knelt down and rolled up Ron's blood-soaked trouser leg, revealing the nasty bite. After a quick inspection, he waved it off.
"Just a scratch. Nothing serious."
"Really?" Ron asked, his voice shaky. To a Muggle, it looked far worse—weeks of careful healing at least. But in the wizarding world, it was minor. Clearly, magical medicine outclassed anything Muggles could manage.
"First, box the spider," George instructed Morris. "Maybe a wooden crate isn't the best idea."
"I'll conjure something sturdier," Morris replied.
"Use that," Fred suggested, pointing to the helmet of a nearby suit of armor.
The armor seemed to sense malice: it dropped its sword and clutched its head protectively.
"Seems it objects," Morris shrugged, levitating the Acromantula instead and adding a Weakening Curse for good measure.
Meanwhile, Ron, sweating and pale, snarled through gritted teeth, "Stop chatting and get me to the hospital wing! I'm dying!"
For a moment, Ron seriously doubted he was related to these two.
"Relax, little Ronnie," Fred grinned. "You're ages from death. No need for the hospital. George, got the Dittany essence?"
"Of course."
George produced a small vial and half a roll of bandage. "We get hurt a lot in experiments, so we carry Dittany extract—it heals most wounds," he explained, dripping the essence onto the bandage.
After winding it around Ron's leg, he slapped his brother's shoulder, earning another yelp.
"See? All fixed. We've had far worse; quit the waterworks."
Morris didn't think that was something to brag about.
Ron inspected his freshly bandaged leg. It still hurt, but far less, and he finally relaxed.
"I wasn't crying," he muttered defensively.
Harry's eyes returned to the motionless black creature in Morris's hands. "What was that thing? Why did it attack us?"
Morris glanced at the twins, who were signaling something Harry couldn't quite read. He got the gist and replied, "Just a mischievous pet spider."
He offered Harry his hand. "Harry Potter, isn't it? I'm Morris Black, first-year Ravenclaw."
"Hi, I'm Harry—just Harry," Harry said, shaking hands but still eyeing the Acromantula warily. Wizarding spiders were terrifyingly fierce compared with anything he had seen in the Muggle world. The largest he had ever encountered back home was thumbnail-sized and quick to hide.
From now on, he knew he would have to be extremely careful. Waking up to find a spider biting you was no joke.
Harry took a deep breath and glanced around the corridor. The marble floor gleamed under the torches, and the staircases loomed like shifting mazes. He made a mental note to double-check every corner in the future. Hogwarts had a way of keeping first-years on their toes—sometimes, very literally.
Ron limped slightly but kept his chin up, still grumbling. "Next time, remind me why I ever agreed to wander off with you."
Harry shot him a look. "You said you wanted to find the Potions classroom early."
"I've changed my mind," Ron muttered, rubbing his leg. "Early arrival is overrated when you might get bitten by giant spiders."
Fred laughed, clapping Ron on the back. "Nothing like a little adventure to wake you up, eh? Trust me, by the end of the year, you'll be begging for spiders."
"I doubt that," Ron said, giving Harry a pointed look.
Morris finally placed the spider into a small enchanted cage, which shimmered as it floated safely behind him. "There, secured," he said. "It's harmless now, and its owner will collect it later."
Harry took a cautious step forward. "So… this happens often?"
The twins exchanged amused glances. "Oh, you'd be surprised," George said. "Hogwarts is full of surprises. Some nice, some… less so."
Fred nodded. "Lesson one: always expect the unexpected. Lesson two: carry Dittany if you can. Trust us—first-years underestimate spiders."
Harry chuckled nervously. "Lesson three: never trust the floor to stay in one place."
"Exactly," Fred agreed. "Especially the marble one."
The group shared a brief laugh, though the tension hadn't fully dissipated. The corridors of Hogwarts had a way of hiding dangers, and Harry was only just beginning to learn how unpredictable it could be.
As they continued their walk, Harry glanced at Ron. Despite the adrenaline and the shock, his friend was managing to keep a brave front. It made Harry realize that survival at Hogwarts was as much about nerves as it was about magic.
The thought made him shiver slightly. The castle was alive in ways he had yet to understand—and it had a wicked sense of humor.
Yet, despite the terrifying encounter, Harry felt a small surge of gratitude toward the twins and Morris. Without them, Ron's bite might have been much worse. Hogwarts could be dangerous, but he was slowly beginning to see that it was also full of allies, if you knew where to look.
And with that thought, Harry straightened his shoulders. Tomorrow's Potions class could wait—he had survived his first real threat, and somehow, he felt ready for the next.
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