Chapter 14- Acromantula Hunting

A week after the Hogsmeade trip, Harry received a letter from one of the school owls while having breakfast. Ron and Hermione looked at him curiously as he opened the letter.

Dear Harry,

Our schedules have been cleared to allow your mentor to come and train you today after classes.

Professor Dumbledore

PS- I'm rather fond of Sugar Quills.

"He's fond of Sugar Quills? What's that supposed to mean?" said Ron, peering over Harry's shoulder.

"I think it's the password to get up to his office," answered Harry.

"Uh oh, Umbridge saw that owl, and she's heading this way," warned Hermione.

Indeed, Harry saw Umbridge moving her stubby legs as fast as she could in Harry's direction, a look of fierce determination etched over her toad-like face.

"Damn," muttered Harry. He pulled out his wand and said "Incendio." The paper burst into flame just as Umbridge arrived.

"What was that letter?" demanded the Defence professor, wearing a frilly pink cardigan and skirt.

"Oh, just the usual hate mail I get every now and again," Harry lied smoothly.

"So why did you destroy the evidence?" pressed Umbridge.

"Because it was very hateful and since I'm an unstable young man I thought it wise to remove the offending letter before I fell into a fit," mocked Harry in a bored tone. "Surely we wouldn't want that in front of the whole student body, would we?"

Beside Harry, Ron was struggling to suppress his laughter, and even Hermione was trying to hide a smile. Other Gryffindors who had heard the exchange were sniggering as well, which only seemed to annoy Umbridge even further.

Umbridge smiled unpleasantly, which was never a good sign. "Detention, Mr Potter. Tonight. My office," she huffed.

"For what?" snapped Harry, quickly losing his temper.

"For lying," Umbridge sneered, her pudgy eyes bulging.

"I don't ever recall lying to you this morning," said Harry, his eyes blazing.

Before Umbridge could give an angry retort, a calm voice interrupted.

"Is there a problem here Dolores?" said Professor Dumbledore, wearing sunflower yellow robes, his eyes twinkling madly.

"Mr Potter refuses to tell me the contents regarding the letter he received this morning, so I have given him a detention," said Umbridge in a superior tone.

"Is this true?" Dumbledore asked Harry.

"No, Professor. I had merely told her that I had received my usual weekly letter from an anonymous hater," Harry stated.

"I do not see any problem then Dolores," said Dumbledore.

"As High Inquisitor I have the right to give students detentions-" began Umbridge.

"So long as you present a valid reason for punishment," finished Dumbledore firmly. "Mr Potter has given you no such reason, other than your own personal bias towards him. Now, I believe you have a lesson to prepare."

Umbridge gave Dumbledore a glare that she usually only reserved for Harry, but Dumbledore merely smiled at her amusedly. She then huffed, stomped her foot and strutted out of the Great Hall. Dumbledore gave Harry a wink before he walked back towards the staff table.

Ron, Hermione and several other Gryffindors burst into laughter while Harry gave a triumphant smile in the direction where Umbridge had departed and he continued on with his breakfast in peace, feeling content that he had finally gotten the upper hand in his war against Umbitch, with some help from Dumbledore, of course.

oOoOoOo

Later that evening, Harry approached the Headmaster's office alone. The stone gargoyle guarding the entrance looked as ugly as ever, and judging by the sneer on its face, the gargoyle knew it too.

"Sugar Quills," Harry said to the gargoyle, and it leapt to the side, revealing the swirling staircase up to the Headmaster's office.

Harry climbed up the steps and knocked on the wooden door, and it swung open of its own accord. Harry entered cautiously, peering around the various magical instruments to see if anyone was home.

"Hello?" called out Harry. Nobody answered. Feeling a little confused now, Harry walked over to Dumbledore's desk, which had a sealed envelope addressed to Harry. He flicked his index finger, and a claw sprung forward with a soft snikt! and sliced the envelope open easily. Harry read the letter enclosed to him.

Harry, this letter is a portkey that will take you to Mr Adams, where you will have your first lesson. The portkey will activate once you have finished reading this.

Albus Dumbledore.

"Oh Merlin's saggy-" swore Harry just as the portkey activated and he felt the familiar unpleasant tugging behind his navel and he was whisked away to who-knows-where.

"OOF!" Harry landed on a patch of dirt, littered with twigs, face first. He adjusted his glasses that had fallen askew and looked over his surroundings.

He was in a clearing of some kind, its borders surrounded by dark oak and pine trees. The ground was comprised of dirt, fallen branches and twigs, leaves and some boulders sticking out of the earth. The waxing gibbous moon hung over the clearing, lighting up the clearing in pale, white light. Just beyond the border of the clearing, Harry could hear creatures prowling as close as they dared without being spotted, invisible in the darkness. To Harry's right, soft clicking could be heard, accompanied by the pitter-patter of multiple feet. Harry could just make out beady eyes reflecting the moon's light.

"I guess the saying that cats always land on their feet has been proven false today."

Harry whipped around and drew his wand, pointing it at the source of the voice behind. He sighed in relief, however and lowered his wand when he only saw Dillon, who hadn't even flinched and was watching Harry with his head cocked to the side.

"Well, your reflexes are certainly sharp," commented Dillon, stepping forward.

"Where are we?" asked Harry, peering over Dillon's shoulder to stare at the beady eyes that stared at Harry with no emotion.

"The middle of the Forbidden Forest," said Dillon. He looked over his shoulder and smirked. "Ah, the Acromantulas are curious. But not to worry, they can't come into the clearing unless I say so, plus we'll be seeing plenty of them later."

"Later?" said Harry loudly.

"What? You didn't think that we'd spend all night in here did you?" said Dillon with a smirk. "No, tonight we'll be journeying beyond the clearing in our beast forms, and you'll be letting the animal take over for the hunt."

"Er... okay?" said Harry, though it sounded more like a question, even to him.

"Before we leave, however," continued Dillon, "I'm going to explain our lesson courses. For the first few meetings you will be letting your beast take the reigns, which will help you get more in touch with yourself. We'll also be doing a little bit of Defensive magical training and dueling, which, combined with our runs through the forest in your beast form, will help expand your magical core. Once I feel you're ready, I will be teaching you Occlumency, which is the magic of shielding your mind from outside attacks and help control your emotions better.

"Later on in the year I'll be teaching you some martial arts techniques and weapons training, which believe me is very useful for if you're stuck in a tricky situation."

"What kind of weapons training?" asked Harry, feeling curious as to the prospects of learning to wield a sword like a knight of old.

Instead of revealing a sword as Harry hoped, Dillon pulled the sleeves of his black trench coat to reveal a pair of black, leathery gauntlets. The gloves of the gauntlets were edged with a silvery metal, and the knuckles were capped with solid steel. With a flick of his wrist, three razor sharp silver claws unsheathed with loud snikts! jutting over the gaps between his knuckles and reminding Harry of a superhero he had seen in one of Dudley's old Muggle comics. The smooth, sharp blades themselves were about as long as Dillon's forearms and were slightly curved.

"These are the preferred non-magical weapon of the werecat," explained Dillon, turning his wrist to show Harry the elegance and grace of the three claws. "They're very versatile weapons, and with practice they can prove to be very deadly.

"Of course, you don't have to have three claws in the gauntlets. Some werecats prefer to use a single, flat blade or even two claws instead of one. The underside of the gauntlet has a wand holster, and with a flick of your wrist your wand will appear in your hand." Dillon straightened his wrist and the three claws slid back into the forearm of the gauntlet, and he grinned at Harry's stunned expression. "They also have a Disillusionment Charm on them, so nobody can see them except for you."

"When can I get me some of those?" whispered Harry in awe, and Dillon laughed before limping over and clapping Harry on the shoulder.

"With time and practice, my boy. Now, strip off your clothes and transform, we've got some hunting to do," said Dillon before he turned away from Harry to give him some privacy.

Harry took of his clothes and glasses and transformed into his black-furred were-lion form, which, as Dillon had promised, was quickly becoming second nature to Harry thanks to practice. Dillon shifted into his full lion form and growled slightly at Harry before he took off into the trees.

Harry followed after the massive golden lion and sprinted on all fours, his clawed hands digging into the earth and kicking up dirt behind him. In front of the two were-lions, a pack of acromantulas shrieked and scuttled away as fast as their many legs could carry them, but Harry and Dillon were easily able to pass by them.

Running through the Forbidden Forest reminded Harry of flying in the air on his broomstick, but it felt more... natural. The wind ruffled his long, black mane and he darted between the trees at blinding speed. He noticed that he could see clearly in the darkness for hundred of yards ahead, his almost perfect vision seeing things that Harry would normally never be able to spot. Near an old elm tree was a group of Bowtruckles engaged in an argument, while to his left Harry saw a pack of wolves watching the two were-lions running through the forest curiously.

Dillon slowed to a jog, which Harry copied, and the two crouched low to the ground.

"You see them?" asked Dillon, his voice having changed into a much deeper tone.

A few metres in front of them, a pack of Acromantulas had cornered a unicorn and her foal, their pincers clicking excitedly as they closed in on their would-be prey.

"Albus has asked us to cull the Acromantula population a little bit, apparently they've been getting braver and getting a little to close to the school for his comfort," explained Dillon.

"So it's our job to get rid of them?" said Harry, not feeling entirely comfortable with the situation thanks to his last encounter with the giant spiders.

"Sure is," said Dillon, "Don't worry. Just let your instincts take control and you'll be fine."

Dillon moved silently over to flank the Acromantulas, his body poised to strike at any moment. Harry, in the meantime, closed his eyes and felt around through his conscience for the beast side of him, drawing it out until his own reasoning was pushed to the side to allow the hunter to take over.

Harry crawled closer to the spiders, his body crouched as low as possible to the ground. He was thankful for his dark fur, as no doubt the hungry spiders would have seen his massive frame coming from miles away. His nosed sniffed the air testily, picking up on the fear from the unicorns and the excitement from the spiders. As he got closer, Harry was almost completely lying on his stomach, and he had turned his paws upwards so that his fur could muffle the sounds of any snapping twigs or rustling leaves.

When Harry was close enough to the nearest Acromantula that he could reach out and touch its hairy abdomen if he wanted to, he pounced, emitting a loud roar that startled the spiders and making the mare whinny in fright. Being larger than the giant spider, Harry almost crushed it when he landed, though the spider was able to move to the side slightly so that it wouldn't get flattened.

Harry's claws pierced through the thick exoskeleton of the Acromantula, and the spider screeched in pain as it struggled to get itself free from the black were-lion's clutches. Harry held on and snarled at the now frightened spider and sunk his long canines into the soft flesh between the thorax and abdomen. Green ooze squirted out of the wounds and the spider shrieked again, its pincers clicking wildly while its brothers looked on in shock. Harry growled and wrapped his thick arms around the spider and squeezed as hard as he could while his back legs dug into the earth, holding the struggling spider down.

Harry squeezed so hard on the Acromantula that its guts exploded from its fanged mouth, a stinky green and yellow ooze that made the spider's shrieks turn into disgusting gurgles. Its struggling ceased as Harry bit into the thorax and his teeth pierced its brain, killing the giant spider and Harry threw the now-dead Acromantula away, roaring in triumph. In the confusion the unicorn mare bolted from the ensuing battle between werecat and Acromantula, her foal trailing behind her.

Dillon had killed another Acromantula a lot quicker and less messier than Harry and was now moving on to his second. Harry, however, was so caught up in his victory that he didn't see two more spiders jump and tackle him to the ground, their pincers clicking angrily. Harry rolled over and pinned one spider to the ground while he kicked the other away and roared furiously before raking his claws through the first spider's soft underbelly. The Acromantula screamed in agony and Harry shoved his fist straight through its ruined stomach, killing it.

By the time Harry had killed the second spider the third had recovered from Harry's kick, though its exoskeleton now had a large crack through it and was seeping green goo. It was a lot larger than the other two Harry had killed, he noted, and thought it was probably one of Aragog's older children and no doubt the leader of this pack. It charged at Harry and he tackled it head on, punching and swiping at it with his claws. The two monsters rolled around the ground and kicked up dirt and roots in their titanic battle. The spider was able to sink its fangs into Harry's shoulder and he roared in pain, but was able to grab its head and throw it off him.

Harry held on to its fangs and ripped them clean off, making the spider screech in pain and he stabbed it in the underbelly with them. Harry then reached down, grabbing the thorax with one hand and the abdomen with the other and pulled, ignoring the kicks the spider's many legs were delivering as it struggled to get free from Harry's grip. The Acromantula's screams were cut off when Harry, with one last pull, tore the thing clean in half, coating his once shiny black fur in blood and guts.

Harry roared as he tossed the two halves of the spider away unceremoniously. Harry gently pressed his conscience forward, taking over as the instinctual side of him melted away and he looked over to his mentor. Except for the green goo that stained his muzzle, Dillon appeared completely unfazed from the battle, unlike Harry who was completely covered in spider guts and dirt and the wound on his shoulder that was still bleeding and stinging from the venom.

"How long does it take for Acromantula wounds to heal?" asked Harry.

"Not sure, I've never been bitten by one," said Dillon amusedly.

At that moment Harry felt the muscle fibres in his shoulder stitch back together, making Harry sigh in content as the stinging went away.

"Well, it works," commented Harry.

"Good work, but there's still more spiders to kill," said Dillon and he took off again, followed closely by Harry.

They stopped off near a pond so Harry could wash off the smelly goo from his body, though Dillon had to transform and cast a scourgify charm to remove the rest, then they took again.

Harry relished in the heat of the battle as he tore through entire packs of Acromantulas like they were nothing. He reveled in the screams of the monsters he slew and roared a challenge into the night every time he won a battle, daring anything to fight him. However, the human part of Harry was worried that he loved the thrill of the hunt a little too much, but he put it aside every time another battle with the arachnids was about to commence.

By the time the two were-lions returned to the small clearing Harry had slain over two dozen Acromantulas, and Dillon almost twice that much. No longer were curious eyes peering through the trees on the border of the clearing, the monsters outside too fearful to even be in the same vicinity as Harry and Dillon.

"Well, I'd say that was a rather productive night," said Dillon once he transformed back into his human form.

Harry said nothing while he put his clothes back on. Dillon seemed to sense Harry's mood and walked over to him, crouching on the ground while Harry put his shoes on.

"Just because you enjoyed killing them doesn't make you a bad person," said Dillon, correctly guessing Harry's thoughts.

Harry looked stunned for a moment. "How did you...?"

"I was thinking the same things as you the first night my mentor took me out hunting," said Dillon.

"But how can you live with it?"

"The bloodlust and thrill you feel while hunting is just a natural part of you. It's merely you satiating the beast's instinctual needs to hunt. It helps that you were hunting predators in your territory, and the Alpha carnivore is content for now. You'll probably find that you're less prone to snap at your friends now."

"Well I guess that's one upside," snorted Harry, feeling a little better now. "What did you mean about being the Alpha carnivore? And when we met in Dumbledore's office, you said something about being the leader of my 'pride?'" he asked.

"Well, as you should know, lions are social creatures," said Dillon, leaning back to sit on his backside. "In fact, lions are the only actively social cats in the world, and the fact that you're a male were-lion means that you're a leader. People will be naturally drawn to you and you will feel the need to protect them."

"But two male lions in the same area leads to conflict, so why aren't we tearing at each other's throats?" asked Harry.

"Because right now, you're not a threat to me," said Dillon. "By werecat standards, you're just a cub and as the person who turned you, I'm sort of your father."

"I don't have a father. He's dead," snapped Harry, his mood souring.

"I know that. But the lion in me recognises you as its offspring of sorts," said Dillon calmly. "But when you mature and grow more acquainted with yourself, I'll feel the need to distance myself from you and force you to find your own pride. Though i suspect that you already have with your friends."

"So eventually, you won't want anything to do with me?" said Harry.

"I didn't say that, but you'll probably see less and less of me and odds are I'll have to bring in somebody else to complete your training."

"I guess that makes sense," said Harry. Suddenly a thought struck him. "Do you have a pride?"

"No, I'm a lone lion," Dillon said bluntly. Harry felt a little put off by Dillon's brashness, but didn't say anything more on the subject.

"Anyway, it's getting late. Dumbledore will let you know when our next meeting is," said Dillon, standing up and stretching his arms.

Harry stood up as well and Dillon handed him a stick that had been charmed into a portkey to take Harry back to Dumbledore's office, and he felt the unpleasant sensation of being teleported back to Hogwarts. He was able to land on his feet this time as he appeared back in the Headmaster's office, and this time he wasn't alone.

Dumbledore sat behind his desk reading through some old tomes. The old wizard peered over his spectacles and smiled, but Harry noticed that he was trying to not make eye contact with him.

"A productive evening, I hope?" asked Dumbledore lightly.

"Well, let's just say that your arachnid problem will soon be taken care of," replied Harry.

"Excellent, excellent. I do believe that Mr Adams is the best qualified to teach you to harness your new abilities," said Dumbledore.

"That's probably because he's the only other werecat we know," replied Harry. Dumbledore chuckled.

"Indeed. Now, I think it's time for bed, you still have lessons tomorrow and I believe that Mr Weasley and Miss Granger are eagerly awaiting your return," said Dumbledore, turning his attention back to the tome.

Harry nodded his head and excused himself, bidding the Headmaster goodnight. He didn't realise that he was back until the Fat Lady cleared her throat impatiently.

"Oh, sorry. Beetlejuice," said Harry and walked through the hidden passage.

As Dumbledore predicted, Ron and Hermione were waiting for Harry by the fireplace, and their heads whipped around as soon as Harry stepped through the hole into the common room.

"Well? What happened? Did he teach you any new spells?" said Hermione as soon as Harry collapsed on the couch between them.

"Easy Hermione. I'm pretty tired as you can see," waved off Harry.

"Sorry but this is all so exciting, don't you think?" spouted off Hermione.

"Yeah..." mumbled Harry.

"What did you do?" asked Ron.

"Huh? Oh, we went hunting," said Harry, closing his eyes for a moment.

"Hunting? Why did you do that?" said Hermione.

"Dillon wants me to get more in touch with my beast form. He said it'll help me with my emotions and become more acquainted with my magical core."

"Wow."

"Mhm."

"What did you hunt?" asked Ron.

"Acromantulas," replied Harry.

He grinned when he heard Ron's hard start beating harder.

"Why Acromantulas?" said Hermione.

Harry opened one eye and looked at his bushy-haired friend. "Apparently they've been encroaching on the Hogwarts borders a bit so he asked Dillon and I to kill a few," he said.

"That's a little barbaric," hissed Hermione.

"Oh please don't tell me you're going to start an Acromantula rights campaign now, are you?" groaned Ron.

"Ron's right Hermione. They tried to have a go at me as well. And must I remind you of second year?" added Harry. "Besides, they're man-eaters."

Hermione huffed, but said nothing.

"Have you found a room for the DA meetings?"

"Er... no," said Ron.

"We've thought about going to the Shrieking Shack or the Forbidden Forest, but the Shack's too small and-" said Hermione.

"And there's no bloody way I'm going into the forest," finished Ron.

"Language," scolded Hermione.

"What? It's true!"

"That doesn't give you the excuse to swear!"

Trying to attempt to diffuse the argument, Harry asked, "What about the classroom I used when I first transformed? The thing put up some wards by itself to protect you from me, didn't it?"

"Well, we did think of that. But the thing is..." said Hermione.

"It's not there anymore," finished Ron.

Harry sat up straight and scowled at his friends. "What do you mean it isn't there anymore?" he said.

"We mean it isn't there anymore," repeated Ron.

"This doesn't seem right," said Harry. "Dobby!"

The excitable house elf popped into existence, making Hermione squeal in fright.

"Harry Potter called Dobby?" said the elf.

"Yes. Now can you tell me about any disappearing classrooms on the seventh floor?" asked Harry.

Dobby's enormous eyes widened and he bounced up and down excitedly. "Oh yes! There is a magic room we house elves call the Come and Go Room. But wizards call it the Room of Requirement!" he squeaked.

"Wy do they call it that?" said Hermione.

"The Room changes to suit the needs of whoever needs it," answered Dobby, his large ears swinging from side to side.

"So, say if I needed a toilet..." began Ron.

"Then the room appears with a toilet!" squeaked Dobby.

"What if we needed a secret room to practice Defence Against the Dark Arts?" said Harry.

"Then the room will change to suit that!"

Harry exchanged similar looks with Ron and Hermione, then grinned at Dobby. "Thanks Dobby, now how do we get into there?"

"Harry Potter and his friends just need to walk past the picture of Barnabas the Barmy three times and the door will appear!" answered Dobby, beaming from the praise Harry had just given him.

"Thanks a lot Dobby," said Harry appreciatively. Dobby popped away again and Harry looked at Hermione, who was giving him a condescending look.

"You shouldn't have used him like that," she hissed.

"We got the answers we needed, didn't we?" snapped Harry. "Now we know where to meet, can you set up a date for the next meeting?"

"I think so. When do you want it?" she asked.

"Maybe the weekend after the first Quidditch match," said Harry. He stood up then and yawned loudly. "I don't know about you guys, but I'm stuffed. Goodnight." And with that, Harry went up to bed, completely knackered from the events of that night.