Chapter 4

The horse-like creatures grazed in heavenly peace. The wind carried the neighing to the visitors. Flies buzzed through the air, flushed out again and again by the flapping tails. The chirping of birds sounded from the forest. The last rays of the sun bathed the weeping willow, which stood lonely in the centre of the heath, in an eerie light. There was a strange, sweetish scent in the air. So subliminally that Tom couldn't tell exactly what he smelled, but he instinctively wrinkled his nose. Again he felt the need to drink something. He rummaged in his bag and pulled out a small cup, which he filled with an Aguamenti. As he put the container to his lips, he noticed Dumbledore's disconcerted look.

"What is it? Just making sure I don't get dehydrated."

The professor raised his eyebrows. "If that's what you want to call the booze."

"It's water."

"You really do seem to drink an extraordinary amount."

"I am thirsty."

Dumbledore shook his head, but let him continue. "You see that?" He pointed off into the distance.

Tom squinted and then he caught sight of it: some of the Thestrals, the largest of them, had pounced on a corpse. They were frantically tearing muscles from the lifeless body and chewing the fibres in their mouths. The red flesh, covered with whitish slime, was devoured literally. Their heads swayed up and down to drive away the army of flies attracted by the foul smell. A steady hum circled the bizarre scene.

"Surely that couldn't have been human," Dumbledore breathed. With horror, they moved closer. The grass rustled beneath their feet. The ground was riddled with hollows, making it easy to trip or fall over. The clearer the view they caught of the cadaver, the more their fears were confirmed.

The dead body had been a person.

A wave of smells flowed towards Tom, swirled around his body and smashed against his nose. A queasy feeling gripped his stomach. The sweet, acrid smell of decaying flesh rose into his head and settled. No matter how hard he squeezed his nasal wings, he could still smell it. With his mouth wide open, he tried to break the shivers of disgust. It didn't help. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Dumbledore trying to use his long grey beard as a filter, but to no avail. It seemed to knock his socks off too.

Tom had already seen a few dead bodies. It had all started with a boy in the orphanage who had screamed in his sleep. When Tom had finally been so annoyed that he had run into the next room, he had just taken his last breath. In the orphanage, many children had died of measles, diphtheria or cholera, it had already been part of everyday life. Nevertheless, there had always been too many orphans who had to share food and beds. Later, he had no longer been an observer but a participant in the deaths of his fellow human beings. He had killed the Riddle family, and a year later Myrtle had died. So you could say he had experience.

But nothing resembled what he saw there before him. He had never bothered to wait. It had never occurred to him to observe the process of decay.

Maggots had already taken up residence in the eye sockets and throat. Tom retched. It disgusted him, a shiver ran down his spine, but he could not avert his gaze. Tied up, he took in every inch of the battered body. The sight scratched at his mind. The pale skin, white and wrinkled like crumpled paper, the torn and raw limbs, the grey bones.

"Tom?"

His hand went to his mouth and he bit his fingertips again and again. His breathing was shallow. A nail cracked. It calmed him a little, reminding him of the sound of breaking bones.

"Tom?"

He became bouncy, like a child who had spooned sugar, and at the same time he couldn't breathe. A flash of inspiration crossed his thoughts.

His excitement – Tom was not allowed to show it!

His arm fell back to his side. Deeply he breathed in and out, but his hands began to tremble.

"How can it be that every time we meet lately, someone dies?"

Dumbledore!

He was standing next to him!

Tom quickly turned his back on the corpse and banished Dumbledore from his field of vision as well. A few steps and he had covered a safe distance. "I – can't look at it..." He huffed, it didn't hide the truth enough.

Uncontrollably, his body shook as a hand stroked his back.

"Are you all right? Best not look again. We should take a few more steps away."

Tom bit his lips until he tasted his own blood. The iron flavour filled his mouth – and air his lungs. Images of the murders flashed through his mind. How much he had enjoyed it. Only now could he place the feeling with certainty. He understood why killing gave him such pleasure. The eerie feeling, the euphoria of victory in the face of death – he had never felt more alive. He clenched his hands and straightened up bolt upright again. "We have to report it." Stiffly, he looked the professor in the eye.

The latter nodded. "Aye – let's take a few more steps out of the herd. We need to talk in peace."

Tom swallowed. This did not bode well. How much did the old fool know?

"We must consider how to proceed," Dumbledore continued. "Whoever it was is not one of those wanted. It was an adult, so Mr Lestrange can be ruled out. But the body was too small for Mr Hagrid."

"Then we should keep looking."

"We need to keep the Thestrals away from the body."

Thoughtfully, Tom shooed away an animal that had gotten in their way. He couldn't look at the body without giving himself away.

"Why can you see them?" asked Dumbledore out of nowhere.

Urgently, Tom looked at him. "I can ask you the same thing. Would you answer me?"

The professor weighed his head. "I watched my sister die. Now it's your turn."

Tom pressed his lips together. "We didn't agree on an exchange."

His counterpart smirked. Tom looked at him in astonishment. He had not expected this reaction at all. "I will draw my conclusions, Tom, you know that."

Dumbledore thought he was a murderer. He didn't want to give him another clue. "There was a sick boy at the orphanage. He wouldn't stop screaming," he replied.

"And that's when you did what?"

He gasped. "Are you insinuating that I killed him?" he hissed. "Who do you think you are?"

Calmly, Dumbledore raised his eyebrows. The emotional outburst seemed to reinforce his opinion. "Am I wrong? Are you incapable of it?"

"Of course I am incapable of murder!"

"I noticed it," Dumbledore said meaningfully.

Tom swallowed. Surely, this could not be true. The chain of circumstances had been disastrous. How was he ever going to find his way out of the social quagmire if his inclination became public? "I... – don't know what you're talking about."

"You don't? I couldn't stop you from getting the award, but I saw right through your sick game. Even if you could present a suitable scapegoat."

He breathed a sigh of relief. Dumbledore was not concerned with what had just happened, but with Myrtle. His counterpart was an old fool. He smiled. "You can't prove anything against me."

Dumbledore growled. "The truth matters – and we both know it."

Tom shrugged and put on the smile of an innocent lamb. Just as the professor raised his wand to dispatch a Patronus, something else unusual caught Tom's eye. "Look there, sir!" he exclaimed, extending his index finger. The day could not have got any crazier, yet it seemed to follow a certain internal logic: Whenever this was said, it got worse.

In the distance, at the other end of the clearing, a crack seemed to go through the earth. When they had entered the area, the masses of thestrals had blocked their view, so that they only now became aware of this anomaly. Automatically, their feet started to move.

It became even more bizarre.

The crack was a pit several metres wide. It had been dug by human hands, probably with the aid of a magic wand. However, there was no sign of any piled-up earth, which led Tom to conclude that it must have been carefully scattered in the forest. It was undoubtedly a trap. But for whom had it been intended?

Standing at the edge of the precipice and glancing in, he saw who had gone in. Apparently it had been so well camouflaged that the trained eye of the assistant gamekeeper had missed it.

"Dumbledore! I'm glad to see you. Get me out of here!", Hagrid greeted them and, judging by the dirt on his face, he had been in there for a while.

With a wave of his wand, the professor levitated the half-giant out of the hole. A dull thump sounded as his huge paws, which he called feet, touched down on the ground.

"Thank you, Professor. Thought no one would ever come." Dimples formed on his face as he smiled. But the joy was wiped away as his gaze fell on Tom. A growl came over his lips. "What's he doing here? Un' why does he look so ugly?"

Tom couldn't help tilting his head slightly to one side. "Surely, a thank you for the rescue wouldn't have been necessary?"

Hagrid snorted. "Professor, do you know what you're getting yourself into?"

A slow nod from Dumbledore. "I'm aware of that."

The half-giant growled something unintelligible. "It's his fault I got thrown out of Hogwarts. The bloke wrongly incriminated me."

"I don't think so," Tom countered, knowing full well what was going on. "You always had those critters, didn't you?"

"Critters?" roared Hagrid. "They're not critters. They're animals like you and me!"

"I'm not an animal," Tom said tersely. His lips pressed together in annoyance. That was the pitch for Dumbledore, he knew it, but fortunately the professor did not stoop to such levels.

"Do tell us how you got trapped, Mr Hagrid," Dumbledore said, unimpressed by the previous exchange. "And where is Mr Lestrange?"

"Um..." he began, visibly confused. "We went to look for the hippogriffs together, here in the clearing. They are beautiful animals and also sought after on the black market. Their bones are said to have healing powers, nonsense, but rumours persist, right? That's why I was alarmed when one by one disappeared..."

"So what?" asked Dumbledore.

"We encountered poachers here in the clearing, that's what... They had surrounded a hippogriff and had already paralysed it. They clipped its wings, poor, proud animal."

"The dead one – that was a poacher, wasn't it?" Tom pointed to the far end of the clearing where they had found the body.

Hagrid followed his pointing and fussed. It was hard to understand him, even when they tried their hardest. "Dead? Nah! – Oh, dear... I didn't know about that. Wanted to help, had to defend ourselves because they attacked us – Lestrange was crying like a baby. I heard muffled noises too, I didn't know anyone had died."

The professor nodded.

"Do you have any idea what the cause of death might be?" asked Tom gruffly.

His counterpart shrugged. "Nah, I'd have to look at it."

"I'd rather not."

"But they fought a herd of hippogriffs. That's dangerous. Probably severed an artery."

Tom nodded. That could fit the sight of the corpse. The image of the maltreated body reappeared in his mind's eye and a shiver ran through his body. He shook his head to get rid of those disturbing thoughts. "Where is Lestrange?" he hissed to distract himself as well as the others from his strange reaction.

"One of Aragog's clan came along and helped pull him out. My magic is limited and Mr Lestrange's wand broke when he fell."

As calmly as Hagrid said it, one could not guess what it was leading up to. Nevertheless, Tom had a bad feeling. He had heard the name before and he did not associate it with anything good. Only once had he encountered the half-giant face to face before – when he had arranged for his expulsion from school. "Aragog? Wasn't that your pet giant spider?" asked Tom. "The one that killed the girl, Myrtle?"

Anger flushed in Hagrid's head and he snorted, "Not at all! Aragog's a good bloke. He wouldn't hurt a human soul!"

Instinctively, Tom gripped his wand tighter.

"Do I understand that correctly?" interposed Dumbledore. "You entrusted Mr. Lestrange to a giant spider?"

Hagrid nodded. "He's perfectly safe. Is'n been a pupil of Aragog, who would never disobey his orders. He's the leader of the pack and I'm their friend."

Dumbledore's forehead wrinkled and Tom couldn't believe what he was hearing. How insane did one have to be?

"You must lead us to Aragog at once," Dumbledore demanded. "Let us hope that Mr. Lestrange is there and safe and sound."

Grumbling, the half-giant started to move and the other two followed. Tom left the clearing with one last look back at the herd of Thestrals grazing peacefully together. By the time they came back, they would have shredded the body even further.

oOo

They went deeper into the Forbidden Forest and left the allotted search radius. Halfway there, Dumbledore had informed the others of their discovery and the current situation with a Patronus. However, he did not see fit to wait for reinforcements. Being headmaster had certain privileges, Tom supposed.

It took a while, but at some point Tom had the feeling that they were being watched. He kept turning around and squinting over his shoulder, but couldn't make out anything in the darkness. There was a rustling in the bushes. He clenched his teeth. Of course, it had to be those critters of spiders, observing as they invaded their territory. It all felt like a mistake, but since he was in the company of Dumbledore and Hagrid, he went on. They would be able to take on a few creepy-crawlies. Besides – if the Lestrange family found out under what adversity he had saved their child... They would be eternally in his debt.

Then, at last, he could make out movement. Something was crawling through the darkness directly in front of them. After a few more steps, Tom knew it was moving towards them. The others were also aware of it.

With a nod, Hagrid greeted the creature, "Aragog?"

Three circular, huge eyes popped out. They were surrounded by six smaller ones. It was a monster – with a hairy, oval body and eight sinewy legs that stretched across the ground. Tilting their heads back, the disparate group stared upwards. If Hagrid had lied about his good connection with the creature, it would probably turn into a slaughter. The wand lay ready for battle in Tom's hand and he was already searching for a weak spot in the spider's anatomy.

"Hagrid," Aragog hooted. His voice was like a hoarse breath – a squeak of scissors.

Tom was astonished when the spider answered back. He hadn't expected that.

"Do you have Mr Lestrange?"

The eight eyes all blinked in different beats, but when the half-giant spoke the student's name, they began to twitch wildly. Two – three – five – seven – eight times! When they had calmed down again, he hoisted, "Yes. He is here. One of my children brought him to me... - My clan is restless, Hagrid, because you did not come alone. It is extraordinary that three delicious people should stray into our territory in such short a time."

"Sorry. We've come to collect Mr. Lestrange. We were attacked by proachers. Your child said he would help."

The spider blinked. Two – three – five – seven – eight! "You believed that? You know how driven they are. Humans are on our menu, I could stipulate that you can visit us without danger, but that doesn't apply to others of your kind."

"Is' important, Aragog. The boy must return home. These two are here to take him. This is Dumbledore, the headmaster, who helped me when you got me into trouble."

"They threw you out."

"He got me the job as gamekeeper."

The spider blinked again. Two – three – five – seven – eight blinks.

Hagrid continued, "And' that's Rid...-"

"I know him." All eight eyes were on Tom. The constant blinking and eye twitching stopped and the spider stared at him as if frozen. He swallowed but showed no outward movement. "I remember you very well. You have changed... A different mask... – It shows much better what it looks like inside you."

Silently, Tom looked up. He knew better than to fall for the cheap provocations of an arthropod.

The eyes closed and opened. The huge mouth smacked. "Actually, I would have sent you away again, Hagrid, but I'll make an exception. You get the boy, but I want to trade."

Eagerly, the half-giant nodded. "What do you want?"

Again the spider's mouth smacked and the mouth parts twitched. "Him – give me Riddle."

Blinking. Two – three – five – seven – eight blinks.

Dazed, Tom took a few steps back. "No!" His own voice sounded distant.

"It's a good deal. You all get to walk out unscathed, except him. Three lives – against this half one," Aragog hoisted. "Look at him, both of you. Think of what he has done. We all know perfectly well that he let the monster loose from the chamber." The crunch of the spider rang so loudly in Tom's ears that he had to cover them. His gaze went to Dumbledore, scrutinisingly. Surely, the old man couldn't let this happen! He had his moral code. Feeding unlovable people to spiders couldn't count towards it.

"He killed the girl and Hagrid had to pay for it!" continued Aragog. "The Lestrange boy, on the other hand – he's innocent."

"It was an accident!" shouted Tom, the words echoing off the trees. He reached out and cast a first protective spell.

More spider eyes emerged from the darkness and fixed on them. He glanced briefly over his shoulder, left and right, to spot an escape route. If he could run just a little way off, he would have enough peace to apparate. Now Dumbledore, too, drew his wand, while Hagrid spread his arms and stood between Aragog and them, talking at the giant spider. Tom gasped. This was hard to beat for absurdity.

Dumbledore bridged the distance between them and stood beside Tom. It was an intelligent move. It allowed them to cover for each other. They looked at each other briefly and nodded their heads.

"We'll talk about Myrtle later," the professor said.

Tom whistled to attack. He lunged forward and sent the first curse, a cutting spell, against a spider. If the professor wasn't standing next to him, he wouldn't have flinched long and sent a Avada Kedavra down Aragog's throat. But as it was, he had to confine himself to more harmless spells.

The spider next to the leader was hit and let out a terribly shrill scream.

Tom grinned triumphantly, but instead of following it up with a second spell, he paused, startled. His head snapped around to his combat partner.

Why – in heaven and hell, had Dumbledore not moved yet?

Then it happened.

Dumbledore's hand twitched and applied a Full Body Bind to Tom.

Arms and legs pinned to his sides, he fell lengthwise to the dirty floor. His chin scraped the ground and his nose cracked. He had fallen right on his face. Only able to move his eyes, he squinted and tried to look up.

He had been ambushed! Dumbledore had done the unthinkable and set him up. Sacrificed him, the professor had traded him for a student. The spiders squealed with excitement. If he wasn't paralysed, he'd be shaking like aspen wood.

"Here you have him, Aragog," Dumbledore spoke, "But I want to see Mr Lestrange first."

With another spell, Tom was lifted off the ground and hovered in the air. Even though what followed would resemble a nightmare and he would prefer to shut down, he could not give up, yet. Panic-stricken, he looked for a way out and felt his heart pounding up to his throat. His head seemed to explode and the adrenaline in his bloodstream made him pant. He was unable to speak; neither could he plead with Dumbledore, nor curse him.

The professor let him fly to Aragog, who leered at him. The foul breeze of the giant spider brushed through his hair, over his skin and took his breath away. Tom coughed and tried to gasp for air.

The world around him began to spin, and more and more his body became enveloped in white yarn. The Full Body Bind curse slowly subsided and he began to fight it. However, he could only wiggle his arms and legs, the white threads reliably lacing his limbs.

Then his vision began to fade as well.

Aragog weaved his face in.

Tom let out a pointed scream.

The spider growled and one of his legs jerked.

In a high arc the Lestrange boy was thrown at the professor's feet. He was wrapped in a spider cocoon, only his head was free. His eyes, wide open and full of fear, twitched back and forth, unable to hold on to anything.

The last thing Tom saw was Dumbledore taking care of the boy and saying something soothing to him.

The air became short and he began to gasp.

A dull bang sounded, followed by hundreds of screeching spiders. He could hear them tripping across the forest floor.

"Get lost! Flee!"

"Aragog, please!"

The temperature skyrocketed and Tom noticed that a flame was flickering on his trapped body. Its heat ate away at the spider webs around his face, but did not touch his skin. As soon as his mouth was exposed, he took a deep breath.

The pressure on his limbs eased. By flailing wildly back and forth, he was able to break open the cocoon and scrape large chunks of the white mass from himself.

Before he knew it, Dumbledore was kneeling beside him. "Hold on tight!" he demanded, and put Tom's arm around his shoulder.

Lifting his eyelids, Tom could abruptly see Lestrange's fear-distorted face beside him.

"Hagrid!"

Then they were caught in a blast.

They apparated.

The sudden thunderclap of Apparating caused Tom to drift into a faint. He had just jumped off the giant spider's menu. In the fog of his dozing, he cursed Dumbledore for his actions.