Disclaimer: Just to make sure, everyone reading this is aware, the likelihood of any of these events being remotely scientifically feasible is about the same as a giant ball of lard suddenly materializing above your head. Speaking of which, you may want to duck. Oh... yeah, you definitely should have ducked. Sorry about that. Also, I don't own or claim responsibility for any of this. Or the characters/world/etc. Except the Hive, that's my cute little bloodthirsty amoral baby.
(I possess the munition for endless transitions, I'm filling and killing all these humorous traditions, I'm taking the shilling and faking its milling, to drive up inflation and give me the millions. This makes no sense, much like the half-penny, a form of currency we've removed since the 20s.)
Does this mean he's going to stop these silly rambles soon? I hope so…
(Hahahahahahahaha no)
A man can dream.
Catalyst
"Are you sure you won't be able to visit us this summer?" Hermione asked.
"Certain. Demanding schedule. Unable to alter." Abathur replied.
"That's what you said last year, and we didn't get even a single owl from you. Even Harry manages to keep in touch, and that Sirius Black and a crazy house elf on his back!" Ron said.
"Hey, Dobby isn't crazy," Harry interjected.
"He stole your mail, Harry," Ron said. "Hate to break it to you, but I think that makes him crazy."
Harry and Ron were pulled off into their own argument about the nature of house elf sanity. Hermione remained focused on Abathur.
"You know, if you're still angry with us, you don't have to make excuses. If you need time alone, that's fine," Hermione said.
"Am not angry," Abathur said, perhaps a bit too quickly. He made a note to enhance his prefrontal cortex again.
"Right," Hermione said. Abathur could see the skepticism written across her face and her mind. She was becoming disturbingly adept at reading him, as were the other two.
"Just...don't ignore us like last time, okay?" Hermione said.
"Acceptable," he said. She expected begrudging agreement.
"All right," Hermione said, before seeing her birthing pair. "I've got to go. I'll see you next year! Make sure to write!" And with that, she ran off, leaving Abathur alone at last. He waited for the rest of the station to empty of humans, before moving to an abandoned street corner. He took out his wand and raised it. After a few seconds a large purple bus appeared. Abathur stepped into it. A moment later, the bus vanished into the maze of concrete and steel.
Minutes later, the bus appeared in a forest and disgorged its passenger. A moment later, it vanished. Abathur stood alone in the forest. Seemingly at random, he picked a direction,and began to walk. He continued in a straight line for hours, never stopping and never straying. Abathur didn't stop until the last ray of light was gone, obscured by the cover above.
A dark purple carpet covered the ground, writhing and pulsing as if alive, mostly because it was. It had taken a lot of time to make the creep non-toxic to the local flora, but Abathur was willing to make sacrifices to keep his brood hidden, even at the cost of efficiency. The moment he stepped on to the living covering, Abathur seemed to glide across it. The remainder of his trip took only a few minutes.
His brood came out to greet him. The as of yet barely modified acromantula crawled along the webs and creep, scuttering around at a distance. Some even prostrated themselves when he passed. An ingrained submission response. He absently made a note to correct that as he continued forward, stepping into a small room made of silk. The walls were lined with transparent cocoons, filled with green fluid sheltering the larva within. As he entered, he tossed aside his writing supplies for the creep to consume. He had no use for them.
Once he was sure he was safe from sneaking terran eyes, he released himself from human flesh. A thick carapace grew all over his body, grey in color, and covered with a snake scale pattern. The occasional bristling hair poked out, vibrating in time with his steps. His back limbs emerged from behind him and came to rest over his shoulders. A mask of scale covered his face, hiding everything save for his nearly green eyes.
It was time to begin his work.
(Transition)
Dumbledore enjoyed the peace of the castle during the summer. His stroll around the grounds was a marvelous way to relax after such a strenuous year. The sky was a gorgeous blue. The birds were singing, the flowers were blooming. On days like this, children should be-
HOOOONNNNNKKKKK
Suddenly, the loud sound of a half-giant blowing his nose erupted across the idyllic scene, followed by a loud sobbing noise. That was never a good sign. Hagrid was rarely upset that seriously, but it often took quite a bit to calm him down when he was. Dumbledore turned towards Hagrid's hut. He stepped in front of the door and knocked three times. Dumbledore heard a chair shifting, then a few heavy footsteps accompanied by sniffling. A moment later, the door was opened by a red-eyed Hagrid.
"Oh, hello Professor Dumbledore," Hagrid said
"Hagrid, how many times do I have to tell you to call me Albus? You're a professor yourself now, after all," Dumbledore replied.
"Can't do that, just wouldn' be proper," Hagrid said, still sniffling.
Dumbledore smiled faintly. If Hagrid was still feeling up to having this old argument, there was still hope. It was when Hagrid simply didn't care about such things that Dumbledore truly needed to worry.
"What's seems to be the matter, my old friend?" he asked, stepping around the title. He was not prepared for the deluge of tears that followed.
"Aragog's dead! *sniff* My oldest friend 'e was, I raised him from an egg! *sniff* And now, now he's-" Hagrid choked down a sob, before continuing in a quieter tone, "He's jus' gone."
Dumbledore patted Hagrid on the shoulder as comfortingly as he could. "I'm sorry to hear that. But I'm sure Aragog is in a better place now." He wasn't quite sure who Aragog was, but that didn't matter.
"No, he isn't. The other acromantula ate 'im before I could get his body and put him in the ground properly," Hagrid's tears resumed, but at least Dumbledore remembered who Aragog was. How long had it been since the first time the chamber was opened? Still, he didn't know their relationship well. It would be better to listen then comment. Hagrid sat in his massive chair.
"His kids won't even let me close now. Put up wards along the edges, smart buggers. Aragog was always a great teacher," Hagrid said.
A chill ran down Dumbledore's spine. "Hagrid, are you absolutely sure that Aragog is dead? Did you see his body?" he asked.
Hagrid blinked. "Well, no, but he always made sure the little 'uns never went after me. They wouldn't attack me if he was still 'round."
"Have the acromantulas ever used wards before?" Dumbledore asked.
"Not that I've seen, but-"
"Hagrid, did you happen to see an unusual number of ants around the acromantula colony?"
A slow look of realization spread across Hagrid's face. "Professor, you think those ants, what're they called... them recruiter ants, that's it, they got to Aragog?"
"I do." Dumbledore said. "I can't imagine that this is merely a coincidence, especially with these new wards the acromantulas seem to have developed overnight. My friend, I'm afraid this bodes ill for us all."
The recruiter ants had come to Hogwarts. Dumbledore's mind raced, wondering how and why, before he settled on the far more important matter of what precisely he was going to need to do to keep the castle safe. He would need to check with the centaurs, of course. They usually kept the acromantulas in check. After that, he would see what he could do on his end. Hopefully, whatever measures he took would prove unnecessary, but Dumbledore would not gamble with fate. If there was something he needed to do, then it would be done.
(Transition)
Two centaurs creft through the forest armed with bows and blades. They were careful to stay hidden, never moving into the light and taking care not to step on a small branches or dry leaves. Their stealth would almost have been impressive if Abathur hadn't been tracking them since the moment they stepped on his creep. A thousand Hive eyes were following the centaurs' every move.
There weren't enough for this to be an attack. They were moving too deliberately to be lost. And they were too cautious to be unaware of the threat his brood posed. The two were either scouts or messengers. Soon, he would know which was the case.
Abathur began moving himself closer to the unwitting pair, still clad in his true form. Creep and webs let him move far faster than a mere set of hooves. In a matter of minutes, both Abathur and an escort of baseline acromantulas had moved themselves between the duo and his colony. The acromantulas burrowed beneath the surface, but Abathur stood tall in the centaur's path. The two immediately took notice. Two bows were lifted in unison, drawn and nocked, before being pointed at Abathur. Their shock and fear at his appearance was felt as a shockwave from their minds. Abathur wasn't entirely able to suppress the pleasure he felt from that.
"State purpose," Abathur said.
"We have no business with you, creature. We come to meet with the leader of the acromantulas. You will step out of our way, or we shall make you," the larger of the two said. Abathur assumed they used muscle mass as a substitute for leadership. That seemed to be common among less developed species.
"Am here. State purpose," Abathur said.
The smaller centaur scoffed at him. "You are not Aragog. You're not even an acromantula. Do not waste our time with pathetic jokes," he said.
Abathur blinked. His escort burst out of the ground in an instant, venom dripping from their fangs, and abdomens filled with web. They chittered excitedly as the centaurs staggered back in delicious fear. The centaurs nervously eyed the massive spiders, bows still drawn and ready.
"State purpose," Abathur repeated. This time, the centaurs were not so dismissive.
"We have come to meet with Aragog," The first centaur began, but stopped as the acromantula's chittering grew louder. "Or whoever has replaced him," he amended quickly. "We seek to inform...you...that we will still enforce the terms of our treaty. Regardless of any change in leadership, you may not expand past your current borders, or we will force you to keep to them."
The chittering grew louder. The acromantulas started to move forward, fangs posed at the ready. They seemed ready to leap upon the centaurs and tear them apart piece by piece. The centaur's tightened their grip on their bows. Abathur lifted an arm. His escort fell back in line.
"Terms acceptable," he said. "Will not expand while centaurs forbid it."
The centaur pair looked almost surprised at the simple acknowledgement Abathur had give them. They glanced at the trees around, as if searching for an ambush. They wouldn't find one. The only acromantula nearby were standing right behind Abathur, and he was keeping them in line, with a small amount of difficulty. Their independence was quickly becoming an issue. He might need to remove that later, after he dealt with this new development.
Their mission, concluded, the centaurs turned and ran back towards where they came. Abathur moved himself and his escort back to the colony absentmindedly. His focus was on the ant clinging to the larger centaurs hoof, the bees tracking them through the air, the worms following beneath the earth, and the dozen other spies he had following the duo. Abathur had meant what he said. He would not risk expanding with an unknown threat on the horizon. But if the centaurs ceased to be a threat, that wouldn't be an issue, would it?
The centaurs arrived at what Abathur assumed was their main dwelling. Abathur dispersed his spies and positioned them around their dwelling. First, observation. Abathur could wait patiently as he prepared for the annihilation of this new threat.
Devourer: While now largely discontinued, devourers are fearsome starfighters, specializing in taking down heavily armored craft with toxic spores. Devourers often served as the main anti-air force of Zerg forces, before being replaced by the squid-like corruptor. Abathur's personal brood is one of the few that continue the growth of devourers, along with their counterpart, Guardians. Devourers are evolved from mutalisks, and bear a great deal of resemblance to their precursors, despite being much more bulky. They have the a curved body, large wings, and a weaponized tail. Unlike their base form, devourers launch acid in spores that stick to their targets, gradually weakening their armor and decreasing their attack capabilities. Unfortunately, devourers are neither fast nor maneuverable. Their lack of speed often means they have difficulty getting to combat, but when they do arrive, devastation reigns supreme.