Disclaimer: Harry Potter and his world belong to J. K. Rowling.

Chapter 38

Voldemort and his men caught a glimpse of what they thought was a unicorn, and spent hours trying to track it without success. It had become very dark, but he was unsure whether he could find the place again if he left it now, and he was close. He stated to the weary men, "We camp here overnight. Make a secure sleeping spot for yourself."

One objected, "We don't even have food!" and another said, "There are dangers here."

Voldemort scoffed, "What have we seen that is dangerous? And you are wizards, aren't you? What do you think wands are for?"

Once he would have used the Crucio Curse to demonstrate his anger, but he was too tired even for anger, let alone to perform the draining curse.

Rookwood said, "We should at least take turns watching for danger."

"If you want," Voldemort said indifferently, and turned away to carve himself a secure hole in the middle of an ancient, gnarled tree trunk.

One of the men started making a fire, and another conjured a few chairs. They were not as weary as Voldemort. There was not much talk, just a complaint of hunger from one, and Norman Figg said, "Some wizards can conjure food."

"Only the most powerful," Rookwood said, "And since it has nil nutritional value, there's no point except to show off."

They glanced at the tree where Voldemort lay in relative comfort, and were silent. Even Rookwood wished they had not followed the powerful wizard who no longer seemed at all powerful.

Voldemort tried to listen to what they said for a while, but he was so terribly tired. Before sleeping, he made the light screen across the entrance to his hole a great deal more solid, remembered to make a few small breathing holes, and relaxed into a deep sleep.

He slept a long time, and awoke refreshed. The sun was already high in the sky, though the days were short in November. It was so quiet. He used his wand to open his 'door,' and looked around for his men. They were gone. He checked more carefully - if they'd had sense, they would have been in a secure and sheltered den such as he had made for himself. There was nothing, and when he used a spell that showed nearby human life forms, there were none. He assumed they had all deserted him, as he'd half expected. He was not nearly as powerful as he'd once been, and it was always the pure feeling of power that lured followers to Dark Lords.

A distance away, Norman Figg was the only one of his followers still alive, and he was cocooned in silk, waiting for his turn as dinner. Rookwood was gone, food for what had to be the biggest and oldest Acromantula that any of them had ever imagined, while Zebedee Smith had been shared around.

Voldemort noticed a sudden chittering in the tree above him, sent a quick spell at the furry creature, and gathered it when it fell. His spell had been too harsh, and the creature was no longer identifiable. Voldemort didn't care what it had been, but heated it enough with his wand that it was semi-cooked, devoured it, and was still hungry. It was no wonder the others had deserted him. He wondered if he could still hurt Rookwood through his Dark Mark, but didn't care enough to even make the effort.

He started walking. He needed a unicorn to kill.

xxx

It was a Saturday. Harry was restless. He wanted to go out and stretch his legs. He wanted to return to the Forbidden Forest and stretch his magic. There had been nothing in the papers about any escapees from Azkaban, but word had spread, and Harry's routine letter from home had spoken of it, and he was again reminded that he should continue practising defence as much as he could. But even in 3rd year, most of the Defence they did in class was either theory or dealing with grindylows, boggarts and hinkypunks, creatures that they only ever saw in class. There was no duelling, and there was nothing that risked damage to the castle.

His excuse was his need for defence practice, but there was also that he simply wanted to get out and be alone. Ginny Weasley had been making a nuisance of herself, always wanting to be close, but she was not the only one. Maybe it was because he had been so alone in his childhood that he sometimes needed the aloneness now he was growing up.

He prepared more carefully than he'd ever done before. Deep in his trunk was a fighting outfit made of thin slices of dragon hide. It had been a birthday present from Lyall Greaves, Head of House. And there was a belt and a short sword called a dastre. That had been from Brandon, who'd said it was a traditional Aniragi weapon, though seldom used these days. That would probably slice through the legs of a magical spider without needing to hit precisely at the joint. He knew what there were now - 'Acromantulae.' Very rare, according to Newt Scamander's book, so probably there were not many there. But just in case, he would avoid his waterhole and explore the other end of the forest instead. If he did see one, he knew how to tackle it - either severing legs to make it helpless, or simply by using physical means. He touched his sword, not much longer than a large knife. Maybe he should practise with that, as well as his wand. It was the first time he'd even had it out.

He used his invisibility cloak to slip out without being noticed. It was cold, but there was no rain, and there were a few people wandering the grounds. Once out of sight in the trees, he stripped off the cumbersome invisibility cloak, folded it and put it safe in an inside pocket. It was lucky that it folded so small. He wanted to have hands free, wand and short sword at the ready. He was excited, and he was cautious. He didn't exactly hope to meet a spider and have a battle, and yet the thrill of anticipation was running through him. It was so long since he'd done anything truly exciting.

He walked quietly, Elder wand in his hand, short-sword (dastre) in its scabbard. He was deep in unknown territory when he glanced at his watch and decided to return for a meal. Next time, he would bring a lunch.

He had seen nothing exciting, nothing dangerous, just a lot of trees, and rather a lot of mud, and he looked ruefully at his shoes, wondering how well they would clean up. He reflected with pleasure that if they didn't clean up, he could replace them. His life now was a far cry from his early years.

It was at that moment there came a scream from not far away, a man's scream of terror. Harry jumped and his wand came up ready. He wanted to see what was happening. He was only thirteen and should beat a retreat. He had to know what was happening, and he took two steps towards where he thought the sound had come from. It was not far away. Spiders? And no man was supposed to be here. One of the senior students?

A second scream echoed, this time cut off short. Harry sent red sparks into the air, calling for help. He overdid it, and the forest was lit by the glow of what was close to a flare. Taking no notice, Harry hurried towards the sound, not running, but walking fast and carefully. He didn't want to become prey himself to whatever had that man.

Voldemort was terrified of spiders, and now his host body, Evans, was being borne away by a monster spider. Right now, Voldemort didn't know much of anything but his terror, while Evans found himself again in charge of a body that was in the worst predicament imaginable. He fought to free himself, giving the spider some trouble. The spider dropped him, restrained him by planting a leg in the centre of his back, dipped its head and injected some paralysing venom into his neck. Evans managed to send a spell at the face of the spider, but strength was leaving him, and the wand was dropped. The spider picked him up again, and started heading back to where Norman Figg, serial rapist and occasional murderer, lay still alive, but helpless in a cocoon of silk.

Harry's path intersected the spider's just a moment later. Just one, he thought with relief. Taking care, he used his Elder wand to slice one leg after another just at the joint. By the time the spider realised it had an enemy, all the legs on one side were gone, and when it tried to move, it only scooted itself in a circle. It dropped its burden and bleated in its pain and fear.

Harry approached carefully and used his sword to cut off its head. It was effective.

The man... Not dead, he could see, not even unconscious, but when he tried to pull him to his feet and get away, the man only flopped, helpless.

A featherlight charm then, and he picked him up by an arm, and hurried. His broomstick. Why hadn't he thought to bring his broomstick? He might have made the man light to carry, but he was large and cumbersome. He still looked terrified, looking beyond Harry. Harry swung, sword at the ready. Two more spiders. Harry backed away, trying to look everywhere at once, relieved when one of the spiders went to the fallen one. Maybe they'd start to feed and forget about the escaping humans.

A gurgle from his captive alerted him to more spiders, and then they were attacking. Harry dropped the man and started swinging the sword, sending bits of legs everywhere. The legs were frail compared to the body, and he preferred not to get too close to the heads.

More appeared, and more. They were surrounded. Harry grabbed the limp body of the man and apparated to the edge of the forest. One could not apparate within the grounds of Hogwarts. Harry had not yet learned to apparate with a passenger. He did it anyway, but not perfectly. There was a splinching. Evans lost a foot.

All the same, the man sobbed with relief when he found himself away from the trees, even if in a muddy puddle. He was away from the spiders. And he was in control of his own mind, the first time in weeks. He was still paralysed, could barely move, and couldn't even talk properly. But he was alive, and maybe they'd be able to cure him of the spider venom. Even Azkaban was not as bad as being possessed by the spirit of the feared Voldemort. He hoped it had gone for good.

Harry sat, panting, remembering only to tuck his Elder wand out of sight before Professor Ironside reached them. There was a length of spider leg sticking to his side. He brushed it off in revulsion and counted himself lucky that he had escaped alive. The man beside him was still sobbing. He ignored him. There was no reason he should have been there in the first place. He hoped he didn't blame him for the loss of his foot.

xxx

Half an hour later, Evans had been transferred to St. Mungo's, and now lay in a healing slumber. His foot had not been retrieved, though an effort had been made by Professor Trimble, flying cautiously above the trees, and sending Accio spells as close to the spiders as he dared. A splinching could be quickly and efficiently repaired if caught early, but not when the missing part had been eaten. Even without the two humans they had wanted, the spiders had fed better than they had for a long time. The foot of Evans had been barely a snack for the quickest of the juveniles, but there were also the bodies of all of those spiders who'd been grievously wounded by Harry's sword and by his wand. It had been a feast, and because of it, Norman Figg was still alive and so were several spiders with missing legs. An injured spider, the same as a dead spider, was food.

Voldemort's spirit was still a part of Evans, but it was as if he was curled up in a corner, not thinking, still blubbering in his terror, unseen, unheard. Spiders. He'd been terrified of spiders since he'd been a small child in an orphanage.

Harry was quite unharmed, except that he was in trouble for venturing into the Forbidden Forest. McGonagall told him he would have been suspended if not expelled, but had redeemed himself 'somewhat' by rescuing the man he'd found in trouble. Instead, it would be Detention every night for a week and a letter to his guardians. Harry was relieved that there was no mention of the crime of apparating without a license – so far.

But if there was to be a letter from the school to Sonia and Brandon, he supposed he'd best write first and explain and especially, apologise for getting into trouble. He hoped that Brandon would not be too angry. Maybe they'd say he was not allowed to come home for Christmas. He didn't think they would reject him entirely, and yet there remained a tiny, niggling worry. Deep inside, he still felt himself the useless freak that the Dursleys had said he was.

xxx

When Headmaster Pucey had discovered what Hagrid had been up to with his breeding of magical creatures, he'd made plans for a full check of the forest, eradicating or removing anything really dangerous. The sentient creatures would remain, of course, and the unicorns. There should not be dangers waiting for students, even reckless and disobedient students, on school grounds.

It was to be a big operation, and so had been planned to be in the Christmas break. He hadn't wanted children underfoot. He now acknowledged that the delay had been a mistake. It was just a half of a spider leg that he'd seen, but it sent shivers through him. How big had that monster been? The silly boy was lucky to be alive. And there was the intruder, as well, who should not have been able to enter the grounds, so he'd have to look at the wards. And how had the boy apparated? The overlapping anti-apparation wards were still in place, as he'd checked.

He made one of his rare appearances at dinner, stood, and when silence fell, said briefly that the forest was to be thoroughly inspected the following morning and all dangerous creatures, especially giant spiders, would be dealt with. No student was to be anywhere near, and that was why a temporary fence had been erected. Ministry personnel would be handling it, Amos Diggory in charge.

He then sat, ignoring the loud buzz of conversation.

"That would be Cedric Diggory's dad, probably," said Percy Weasley to those sitting close. "He's head of the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures." Percy liked to show off his knowledge, and it was well known that he intended to apply for a position with the Ministry once he'd completed seventh year.

Harry said, "I hope they realise it could be dangerous," but Percy said condescendingly, "Of course. They are the experts, after all. And it was extremely foolish of you to have been in there, Potter!"

Harry shrugged. He was quite sure that Percy Weasley would not have risked his own life to save another. He still didn't know the man's name or what he'd been doing in the forest, but he should be very, very grateful to him. Being taken by spiders – it was hard to think of a worse death.

He glanced over at the table where Hermione sat, and surprised a glare. It appeared that she condemned him as much as McGonnagal had. He felt a bit aggrieved. He'd alerted the authorities to a danger they hadn't known of, and he'd saved a life. There should have been just a few accolades along with the blame.

An hour later, he knocked at McGonagall's door. It was time for his first Detention. Being a hero wasn't all it was made out to be.

xxx

Rita Skeeter was in her beetle Animagus form. She slipped past the Auror guard into the hospital room where Victor Evans lay. Transforming back into her human form, she first cast a silencing shield and then turned to the man. "So how does it feel to have your life saved by the Boy-Who-Lived, Mr. Evans?"

Evans turned an indifferent face to her, and said nothing. They knew who he was, and he'd soon be sent straight back to that hell that was Azkaban. He didn't care about anything else. Maybe not spiders, but another sort of death, a painless death, he would welcome.

Skeeter studied him for a moment and then said, "Give me a good interview and I can pull strings to get you into Bransen Prison instead of Azkaban. I am good friends with the Minister, you know?"

Evans turned to her, "You can do that?"

"Of course I can. I am Rita Skeeter, and he likes my stories."

It was feasible. Evans was not a stupid man, and had been only a minor criminal; it was just that he had underestimated his intended victim. He could no longer even remember what he'd planned to use for the blackmail. And he hadn't taken part in any of the crimes the group had committed since their escape. It had been Voldemort who had given the orders, though Evans had no intention of admitting that he'd ever been possessed by the monster. He'd only ever deserved Bransen. Skeeter was well known, and Fudge always had good coverage in the Prophet. He asked what she wanted to know.

Forty minutes later, Skeeter beamed at Evans and said, "Look for Monday's paper. I am especially interested in your claim that young Harry's mother was not Muggle-born at all."

Evans was feeling optimistic now, and smiled as the reporter brought down her silencing shield and walked out the door as if she owned the place. The trainee Auror who'd been given the undemanding job of guarding a one-legged man, gaped. He knew who she was, and also knew how vicious her pen could be. He said haltingly, "Miss Skeeter," but Skeeter turned to him, smiled winningly, or as winningly as she knew how, and said, "No need to mention to your superior that you were remiss in your duty. We'll just stay quiet, won't we, Cameron?"

The young man nodded. It would be better to simply stay quiet.

An hour later, Victor Evans was transferred to Azkaban, complete with Voldemort, who hadn't made his presence felt since the first contact with giant spiders. Evans thought he was gone. Back in Azkaban. Back to the cold and the misery caused by the foul monsters known as Dementors. Hideous beasts that could not be killed. Parasites on wizardkind.

xxx

Sonia Greaves looked up as the Eagle Owl held up its leg to Brandon. She said, "That's one of the school owls."

"One of the boys in trouble, you think?"

"Or maybe sick or injured?"

Brandon was already scanning the letter while the owl turned to Sonia. He'd been here before, and remembered that she kept a bowl of owl treats handy.

Brandon said, "It's Harry. He's in trouble for going into the Forbidden Forest and tangling with giant spiders. McGonagall says that he rescued a trespasser, but is still being punished for disobedience."

"Giant spiders!"

"Acromantulae, giant spiders."

Sonia shook her head, and after a moment said, "Mick told him to find open ground for practising the powerful offensive spells, remember? Maybe he thought he'd find a place in the forest."

"He'll probably try and use that as an excuse."

"How's he being punished? Not suspended or anything, I hope."

"Detentions, that's all she said. Though probably loss of points; that's standard."

"Not too serious then."

At that moment, three more owls soared through the open window, Hedwig, Redwing, and a school owl. Sonia laughed, "They all want to tell us about it."

"He battled giant spiders and saved a life. Our Harry is not dull!"

Sonia reached for Redwing, Brandon for Hedwig. Each scanned the letter, and Brandon said, "He mostly says sorry, three times in three paragraphs, and that he was silly going into the forest. He doesn't say much at all about saving a life."

"Connor does," Sonia said. "He says, 'I saw him and he was covered with blood and gunk, and he was just sitting, really tired. And the rescued man flat out beside him.' And he says that the spiders were terribly, terribly big and he knows that because he saw a portion of a leg." She grinned and said, "He concludes by saying that Harry's an 'honest-to-God hero,' and that Merlin himself never battled giant spiders."

"Honest-to-God?"

"It must be a Muggle term. Some of his year-mates were Muggle-born, he told us."

"Oh yes," and added critically, "There are too many Muggle-born. Each one is a danger to us."

Sonia said absently, "It's not their fault." She was reading Charlie's letter, and then passed it to her husband. "He says that Harry might be frightened of being thrown out for getting into trouble."

"Did Harry say that?"

"Not that Charlie mentioned, but he might be…"

"I'd best not rebuke him too severely then."

"We should find out who the rescued man is. He owes Harry a Life Debt."

"Have you taught him about Life Debts?"

"I can't remember it ever coming up."

xxx