A/N The word count is less than usual but some key players to an arc inspired by a comment are being introduced. You'll know what I'm referring to by next chapter, and I'll give the user credit there. Also, you guys talking about Harry's death in the reviews made me smile and literally cackle evilly at like 3 a.m. because of my plans, so thank you so much for that.
As always, unbeta-ed, sorry if I miss any errors.
Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to Harry Potter or Supernatural, or anything belonging to J.K. Rowling or Eric Kripke, I'm just using the characters for fun. I receive no money off of this story. Don't sue me.
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Chapter 12: Something Wicked This Way Comes
Harry ducked as a water balloon went soaring past her. She moved around the corner of the rusted car to hide behind a tower of dilapidated metal.
"That all you got?" she yelled out to Dean, who was hiding somewhere in the yard. Bobby sat on the porch reading from one of his books on the Supernatural, while Sam tried to sneak up on her. Harry shot a blast of water out of her finger and he fell to the ground with an oomph.
"I don't think it's fair that you have magic and we don't," Sam grumbled. Harry walked over and helped him up.
"First of all, life's not fair. Second, I gave you a never-ending water balloon supply, and they're lightweight as well. You're using magic too." She ruffled his wet hair, then crushed a balloon on his head leaving him sputtering while she went to find Dean.
It was a week before her birthday, and the Winchesters were staying at Bobby's while John worked on a nearby hunt. Currently, they were having a semi-magical water balloon fight, and Harry was winning.
"Alright, get inside, lunchtime," Bobby called, standing up and moving in through the screen door. They dropped their arms, looking suspiciously towards each other as they made their way into the house. Harry caught Dean with his fingers twitching back towards the balloons secured in the belt strung across his chest, and tensed, whirling around to stop him, only for Sam to get the better of her and dump a bucket of water on her head. The boys collapsed onto the ground in fits while she stood there sputtering.
"She didn't melt, Dean!" Sam laughed. Bobby rolled his eyes and stepped forward to yell at everyone, but Harry held up a hand to stop him. She pulled her sopping hair out of her eyes, looking at the boys on the ground with an unhinged smile. They immediately stopped, fear taking the place of mirth on their faces.
"This means war." The Winchesters jumped to their feet, bolting away from her. She waved her hands, tripping them and pulling them back towards her, a manic look in her eyes, but Bobby stopped her before she could eviscerate them.
"Harry!" She stopped, looking back at him with the best approximation of Sam's puppy dog eyes she could make up in the moment.
"But Bobby!"
"No. Lunchtime." She sighed, pouting and releasing the boys from her spell. Harry stomped into the house, drying herself off with a wave of her hand. Sam and Dean traded looks of relief, following after her cautiously. Bobby just shook his head, anticipating a long week of annoyance.
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Surprising everyone, Harry's revenge against the Winchesters did not devolve into another prank war, with the boys happy the worst they'd got in return was cold water dumped on them in the middle of the night, causing them to wake up very suddenly, Dean even falling onto the floor in a tangle of sheets. Instead, the week passed rather peacefully, ending with Harry's birthday, which meant cake. Harry was happy to share the day with Sam and Dean, as they didn't really get cake or presents while on the road. So, they celebrated everyone's birthday and passed around gifts. Dean presented Harry with a brown bag that held a bottle of lighter fluid and a Snickers bar. She unwrapped the candy and split it in three, handing the smaller parts to Sam and Dean.
"Generous."
"It's my birthday, shut up." Sam rolled his eyes at the squabbling, pulling forward the gifts of enchanted flannel and a book. Dean popped the Snickers into his mouth, already reaching for some of the Chocolate Frogs that were included in the basket of candy Harry had gotten him.
"Okay, there is actually one more gift we made," Dean admitted. Sam blushed and looked at his feet. Harry raised an eyebrow. Dean pulled out a hastily wrapped package, about as big as post-it. She took it, tearing off the newspaper, and finding a bracelet with a dangling devil's trap charm.
"We figured you might want that after the close calls you've had with the demons. I mean, you used to run into them a lot, and after you told us that story about getting chased that one time, well…" Sam babbled, staring at the ground. Harry chuckled, grabbing the two brothers in a hug.
"Thanks guys." She stepped back, slipping on the bracelet. A warm glow filled her as she thought about the family she had made. "This means a lot." Dean coughed.
"Yah, well, no chick flick moments. Let's have cake." Harry smirked, unknowingly copying Bobby's face, who was watching from behind her. After eating the tiny store-bought cake, they spent the rest of the afternoon watching scary movies, yelling at the characters when they did something stupid, or when the story got the lore wrong. It was nice.
Well, until she was ambushed by owls. Sometime around 5, and the third movie, Harry was getting up to go to the bathroom. As she stood from the couch, amid groaning from Dean whose legs were sprawled across her and Sam's laps, there was a banging noise, and a flurry of feathers surrounded her.
"What the hell!" Dean yelled, falling off the couch as Sam leapt away from the owls. She ducked backwards, getting away from the birds, who stopped squawking so violently, settling down and getting in a line in front of Harry. She looked up and saw the window open, one poor bird lying on the ground in front of it as though dead. "What's going on?" Dean shouted.
"It's a peck of owls."
"A flock?"
"No, Dean, the correct term is actually 'peck'. It's interesting though, because-"
"Sammy, shuddup."
"Sorry you're such a bonehead and don't want to know valuable information."
"Valuable information?! When am I going to need to know what to call a flock of owls?!"
"Peck."
"Okay, you know what-" Harry and the owls looked back and forth, watching the argument like a tennis match. She was sure the owls were okay, but she was getting whiplash, so she yelled out.
"BOYS! Stop it, you're both pretty." She looked at them incredulously. "And you're actually both wrong, a group of owls is called a parliament, but I appreciate the pun Sammy."
"That's not what I- Don't call me Sammy!"
"Okay, Sammy." Harry turned back to the owls, opening the packages one by one. She smiled when she saw that the Weasley's had won a trip to Egypt. They deserved a good vacation. She pocketed the pocket sneakoscope, thinking it would be useful, and moved on to Hermione's much more controlled letter. The broomstick servicing kit would be a great gift, as long as the season was open long enough to have to use it, she thought sarcastically. The last two Quidditch Cups had been cancelled due to whatever catastrophe was scheduled for Hogwarts that year. She absently wondered what the coming year would be like. The last gift, bearing Hagrid's signature scrawl, was moving a bit in its package, and Harry carefully picked it up by her thumb and forefinger.
"It's moving. Do you think he sent you an animal?" Dean asked.
"Dean, does this look like an animal?" She asked, holding up the distinctly rectangular package.
"Well...no."
"It's not an animal." She hoped not. Harry pulled the paper off, finding a hairy book looking at her with angry eyes. Wait.
Harry did a double take, staring at the book in her hands, dropping it when it's jaws opened suddenly, no longer constricted by the paper. "What the- OH SHIT!" Harry jumped onto the couch as the book started flapping along the ground, its...mouth? Going for her ankles. Sam let out a little shout, hopping onto the couch with her, as Dean scooted backwards on his butt trying to get away from the book. He ended up doing a sort of awkward crab walk out of the living room and into the kitchen, panicked shouts receding as the book followed him. Harry tilted her head as the book disappeared, watching a familiar chomping pattern. She turned to Sam.
"Wouldn't it be funny if it sounded like Pac-Man?" She asked. He looked at her, clearly expressing that it was not the time.
"You have to save Dean."
"It's a book." He gave her a look. "Okay, just me? What about you?"
"You're the witch!"
"Oh, Sam. It's okay. Some people are chicken, I understand. I'm sorry I misjudged you-" Before Harry could finish, Sam screwed up his face.
"I. Am. Not. A. Chicken." He said, pointing his finger in Harry's face at every word. Then he leapt over the back of the couch. "FOR NARNIA!" Harry watched him run into the kitchen. A few seconds later there was a short scream and the sound of crashing objects. She sighed, stifling a few chuckles.
Harry jumped off the couch, taking a peek into the kitchen and seeing Sam and Dean standing on the kitchen table with pots and pans everywhere, Dean wielding a frying pan and Sam a wooden spoon. The book stared up at them from the ground, beady eyes waiting expectantly.
"How..?" Harry summoned a pot, tip toeing up to the book, and dropping it down on the thing. "Aha!"
"Victory!" Dean shouted, waving the frying pan around and striking a pose.
"How's the weather up there?" Harry asked sardonically.
"Monster-book free, thank you very much." The boys hopped down, working to set the kitchen to rights before Bobby came back from the garage. "Hagrid gave you a monster book."
"Yep."
"I wanna meet him."
"Someday." They stared at each other for a moment when Dean had a thought.
"Hey, he did send you an animal! Kind of." Harry charmed Sam's spoon to wack Dean in the shoulder.
"OW!"
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A week or so after the Monster book incident, and the Winchesters had been picked up by their dad, Harry a pulse of magic swept through the salvage yard. Harry flinched as she felt one of her perimeter wards go off. She checked her trinkets and found it was the one on Privet drive. She apparated to the park in her old neighborhood, shivering at the White Collar evil that seemed to permeate the houses. She hadn't been back since she set the ward to alert her if another wizard came close to the Dursley's house. She had a role to play after all, not that she was doing a great job of it, since she couldn't help but be snarky in front of Dumbledore. When she walked down the sidewalk in front of the house, though, she didn't see a wizard nearby. In fact the only people nearby were a couple kids on the swings and a guy mowing his lawn. One of the kids was staring at her in awe. She wasn't terribly worried about it though. If the Ministry was going to bust her for underage magic, they would have done it a long time ago. So, she gave the kid a wink, and sat on the roundabout, twisting her finger in circular motions as the contraption creaked and turned slowly.
Her magic wasn't faulty, there had to be someone magical nearby, and the alert hadn't let her know that the magical had left. She scanned the playground and the area around it, as the alert had pointed her in this direction. She stopped when she noticed a large dog hanging in the shadows of the bushes, its eyes staring right at her.
She stood up, whistling "Black Dog", and walked over to the slide, which stood near the bushes separating the playground from the sidewalk. The dog let out a low growl, moving back slightly. Harry sidled up to it, hands up in a nonthreatening motion, staring down at the dog. She crouched, hand going out to pet it.
"Hello, doggy. You're rather scrawny aren't you?" The dog was all skin and bones, mangy fur matted in places and missing in others. The dog whimpered again and Harry pulled out some snacks from her endless pockets, offering the food to the dog. It grabbed it quickly, turning instantly and bounding away from the witch. Harry sighed, watching the poor stray as it disappeared through the hedges lining the park. She turned thinking of the tripped ward, and vanished once more, leaving two children to stare at the empty space.
Harry appeared back in Bobby's yard, strolling quietly through the rusted cars. She kicked a pebble and watched it bounce through the dust, her mind busy with curiosity about the tripped ward, concern for Bobby, who was gone on a hunt and had been for a few days, and a wary interest in the events of the end of last term. She could still remember the feeling of being pulled through a cold sheet of water, exchanging darkness for muddy light as she woke up on the floor of the Chamber. Harry looked at the ground intensely in a way that most certainly did not reflect her thoughts. There was a pit in her stomach, and she suddenly had the overwhelming desire to be doing something productive. An idea that had been steadily forming throughout last term prodded at her brain, and she smirked as she went to grab the essentials for her plan.
The green-eyed girl twisted through the air once more, this time to the brisk weather of West Lothian, Scotland. A one Cuthbert Binns was buried in a cemetery in Blackridge after his untimely demise in a staffroom fire a few decades ago. After his unhelpfulness during the Chamber incident, Harry decided that an actual teacher outweighed the merits of fight club and naptime. Plus, she thought it might be a good gift for Hermione to reward her for her help discovering the Basilisk.
Once she located the correct tombstone, Harry pulled out a shovel and started digging. She wanted menial labor to quiet the pounding in her head, and the efficiency of magic wouldn't do that for her right now. Also, she didn't anticipate any kind of fight from Binns, after how easy Podmore was to salt and burn. She really did need to stop jinxing herself.
Not two seconds after her shovel scratched the coffin, the specter of Professor Binns popped into existence across from where she stood at the edge of the hole. She glanced up and froze, not sure what would happen next as his droll stare met her uneasy expression. He tilted his transparent head, as though analyzing what she was doing. Harry had actually never seen as much life in him than at this moment. After a few moments of nothing happening, Harry moved her shovel again and moved another scoop of dirt off the polished wood. That was a bad move.
Binns' figure expanded in size, now three times his original height, and tinged with red instead of blue. His jaw unhinged like a snake about to feed on prey much larger than it, an unearthly shriek ripping its way from his throat. He towered over her, enraged and able to do something about it.
"Holy shit!" Harry leaped to the side when he grabbed a nearby tree by the trunk, his hand actually able to rip the tree up by the roots instead of just passing through it harmlessly. He swung the tree at her like a club, and Harry dropped to the ground as it passed over her, just brushing the top of her hair. He was still roaring like he'd stepped on a Lego, the ominous red tinge flickering with every sound. Harry scrambled to grab the gun strapped to her side, pumping it as she rolled away from the trunk as Binns slammed it downwards, dirt and stone flying everywhere. Harry came up on one knee, aiming and firing the salt shell.
The salt made contact with Binns, which may have been another mistake on Harry's part, because instead of making him disappear, his hand phased out again, allowing the tree to fall through it to the ground. Harry jumped out of the way of the falling tree again, wincing at the bruises she was sure to have later when she landed on some chunks of misplaced tombstone. She swore at herself for not just using magic and getting it over with quickly, and vowed to never make that mistake with a magical ghost again. Binns appeared to be regaining the use of his hand, so Harry shot him a few more times, trying to take out the use of his hands and head. She didn't want that disjointed jaw getting anywhere near her. Rushing back to the grave while he was occupied, Harry swept her hand and got rid of the remaining dirt, opening the casket with a snap of her fingers. A short skeleton in decidedly untasteful brown robes laid before her, and she stuffed her hands in her pockets searching for the salt and lighter fluid. One downside of her expanded pockets was most definitely the possibility of not grabbing what you needed in time and dying. Again.
And oh, that was something she shouldn't be worrying about right now. Harry did wonder though, curious about what would happen if she died here. Would she come back again?
Her musings were interrupted when she found what she was looking for, and let out a victorious laugh as she pulled out the tub of salt and the lighter fluid. "Ha-AAH!" Harry jumped across the grave in order to avoid a gravestone that Binns had thrown at her, slipping slightly on the edge of the pit, and falling into the grave and on top of the graying skeleton. "Ugh."
Harry picked herself up, an unpleasant crunching coming from Binns' bones as she tried to find somewhere to stand in the grave that wasn't his body. She'd feel bad, but he was up there trying to kill her. The witch poured the salt and lighter fluid all over the body, casting a spell and shooting out of the grave just as she lit the body on fire. Harry shot up and onto the grass, falling on top of some rubble. She watched as Binns' gigantic form seemed to shrivel like parchment in flames, the new gravestone he had ripped from the ground falling in between his fingers as his form went up in flames and a wheezy scream. Harry was slightly distracted by the flames nipping at her heels, and she hurried to put out the fire that had taken to her cloak. She fell backwards onto the grass in the middle of the destruction, taking a deep breath and releasing it, exhausted. She made a note that magical ghosts must be much more sensitive to their graves than non magical ones, and may develop strange powers? But the Delaney ghost didn't do that. She had no idea how that had even happened. Maybe Binns had been part Banshee? Jeez, it was always the quiet ones.
Harry was perfectly fine with laying there for a moment in relative peace and quiet, glad she had put up a barrier to keep people out and unaware while she got rid of her former professor. Which is why she was so surprised when a sarcastic sounding voice met her ears.
"Well, that's not exactly something you see everyday. I was just visiting my son's grave, gloating that I'd outlived him, like I do every year, so imagine my surprise when I get to witness a banishing of a ghost, and a magical one at that." Harry jolted upwards, the salt gun instinctively pointed at the figure before her. He was a shorter man with brown hair and a crisp suit, untouched by the dirt and dust that permeated every other area of the small graveyard. He raised an eyebrow at the gun. "Put that away, Darling." He squinted at her, seeming to take her appearance in. "How old are you? You don't seem old enough to walk to the park on your own, let alone banish a ghost in one."
"Who are you?"
"Ah, I asked first. Sort of." Harry wouldn't budge, and the man rolled his eyes at the gun still pointed at him, sighing. "Alright, my apologies. The name's Crowley."
"Harry." The girl replied, lowering the gun slightly. "How'd you get past the wards, Crowley?" He raised his eyebrow again at this.
"You put wards up? What are you?"
"Back at ya. Yes I put wards up. Against humans. Meaning you aren't one."
"Someone's sharp. Alright, Harry. I'm Crowley, de facto King of the Crossroads." Harry's expression remained unchanged, and Crowley sighed. "Come on, King of the Crossroads? Best at the soul trade, that is." Harry stiffened, gun raised again, this time pointed right between his eyes as she got up unsteadily. "Oh, now she's got it. Fair's fair, who are you then?"
"I'm a hunter, and we don't generally have such pleasant conversations with demons. Forgive me if I'm a little tense."
"A hunter?!" Crowley laughed, astounded. "But you've clearly got powers. How'd someone magical get into the game of hunting their people? And someone so young, at that?" Crowley looked at her, intrigued.
"I don't hunt my people, I hunt those who deserve it."
"That's a little bit judge, jury, and executioner there, isn't it? What'd that ghost ever do to you?"
Well, for starts, he was a terrible teacher, and his behavior was becoming dangerous. That was a good enough case for me. Besides, he was already dead."
"Hmm, and what about those still living? Like me?"
"You're a demon, you have to have died by definition."
"Oh, come on. You're a smart girl, you know what I mean." Harry looked at him appraisingly.
"I don't hunt those who don't deserve it. As far as I know, your only crime is buying the souls of the desperate. If I had more information, I might try to persuade you to give them back, but I don't go picking fights without reason."
"I've only just met you and I can still tell that that's absolute bollocks and you know it."
"Yes, well let's say I'm not eager to pick another fight with a demon. Rosemary's still out for my blood and I'm not incredibly prepared for another mass exorcism. I could do one, though," She added in warning, glaring at Crowley. Instead of responding like she thought a demon would, he burst out laughing.
"That was you? Oh that is fantastic. I hate Meg, and she was livid. I think she plans on slowly filleting you when she gets out next." He wiped a nonexistent tear from his eye.
"Who's Meg?"
"I'm under the impression that you quit like calling her 'Rosemary.'" He answered. "Well, that would mean that Harry stands for Harriet, I assume? Harriet Potter, a hunter. Very nice to meet you."
"Pleasure." Harry's arm was starting to get tired from aiming the gun at such an angle, and she dropped it to her side.
"Am I not such a threat to you?"
"You're being surprisingly civil, and I'd rather clean this up and leave than have another fight right now, so unless you attack me I won't attack you."
"Hmm, a truce with Harriet Potter. I'm honored. I can help you with your cleanup, in exchange for something." Harry snorted.
"I'd say nice try, but that wasn't very subtle. Sorry Crowley, my soul's my own to corrupt."
"Had to try. Although I don't just trade souls. The deal just has to have a trade."
"I'll trade you a cup of tea if you just take care of this, I'm exhausted enough," And she didn't want to reveal more of her abilities than she already had. Plus, the graveyard was pretty trashed.
"I'll take that deal, Miss Potter." He snapped his fingers and the yard was as it had been before Binns' foray into ghostly steroids. "Lead the way."
Twenty minutes later, Harry was questioning how she had managed to get herself into such a strange situation. She stared at the man across the table, who held the tiny teacup with both hands, carefully sipping out of it. She smothered a snort, smiling into her own cup. It wasn't as strong as she was used to, but she did tend to use several teabags at once.
"So, what exactly does 'King if the Crossroads' mean?" Harry asked, setting down the empty cup on the table. Crowley looked up at her.
"Well, I'm not really...in charge of the entire crossroads so to say. Lilith, really, is the Queen of the Crossroads, but she's usually busy with other...things, so I take a lot of the responsibility. I deal with souls like other demons. But if any of my underlings have a particularly important deal it's directed to me, or her if she really wants it. Oh, and of course I get some power from every deal done at the crossroads."
"Who's Lilith."
"No one important." Harry raised an eyebrow.
"Mmhmm."
"You don't want to deal with her. In any way. Let's leave it at that, shall we?" Harry shrugged.
"So you have a lot of influence."
"Trying to flatter me are we?"
"I'm just trying to think of a reason why a demon wouldn't automatically want to hurt a hunter. You haven't done so yet, and I don't think you have to resort to the long game to injure me. You haven't put any poison in my tea, so I can't see any other reason why you would be acting like you are."
"Why, Harriet, no need to be so cynical. Not all demons are so barbaric. And how would you know that I haven't poisoned your cup?"
"Trade secret."
"Well, I think you're bluffing. But I haven't poisoned your cup, not really my style. I poisoned both cups and I have built up an immunity." Harry rolled her eyes, and got back to her main point.
"So you're saying you're one of the demons who will happily ignore hunters."
"Not at all, I'm saying I'm not going to pick a fight when I don't have to. Similar to your motives, actually. It's not often I get to sit down in peace without having to worry about hunters or backstabbing underlings. And, well, I do like this suit. It'd be a pity to get blood all over it." Harry stared at Crowley, who had an unassuming expression as he returned to his tea. After the day she'd had, she decided it might just be good luck for once. She shrugged off her worries, content to just sip at another tea with the buzzing in her head finally quieted.
She was almost disappointed when they both finished their drinks, and Crowley left with a quick "Nice meeting you," disappearing on the spot. Harry spun into the oblivion of apparation, appearing in Bobby's yard once more.
She walked up the porch steps, reaching for the door, only to be greeted by the door swinging inward, revealing an angry Bobby.
"Where the hell have you been?!" She could only think of one thing to say to that.
"Balls"
After reaming Harry out for not staying at the house, Bobby disappeared upstairs to read while Harry plopped down on the couch, irritated with her grounding. She wasn't allowed to leave the property until she went to Diagon Alley to meet the Weasley's in a couple weeks. It wasn't as if she could actually tell Bobby that she'd just gone out to quiet her mind from speculating on her death. She hadn't even told Bobby about it. As far as he knew, she had just slain the Basilisk cleverly and without injury. Well, major injury that is. Bobby was skeptical, but his questions had been interrupted by Dean high-fiving her and asking her all about the monster.
The witch flicked on the news, looking for something to distract her. BBC World News America came on, and Harry relaxed on the couch as the newscasters specific cadence washed over her.
"...other news, it appears that there is a major manhunt taking place in Britain. A maximum security prisoner escaped and is assumed to be somewhere in or around England. This guy must be quite the fugitive, because citizens all over the country are being warned about him, and there's still nothing new to report about the whereabouts of Sirius Black." Harry sat up, frowning. There was something familiar about that name.
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Meanwhile, in a posh boardroom with eggshell walls, 10 people in suits sat around a table, politely talking about the next issue on the docket.
"What the hell am I supposed to do about that?!" Yelled a man with slicked back brown hair. His counterpart, a tall man with horn-rimmed glasses, stared back unbothered. "It's not my fault that Dumbledore hired him!"
"You were supposed to keep track of your assets. You did not report that he was in contact with Dumbledore anymore, nor did you notify us when he took the position. We had to hear about this from our Hogsmeade agent." The man with the glasses replied evenly. "Furthermore, this is not your first offense. Ever since you lost your partner, you've been reckless. This is unacceptable."
"Lost my partner." He scoffed. "You killed him-"
"He was withdrawn from duty. After being infected by a vampire, he did not resist long enough for us to administer the cure, and gave into the temptation for blood. While this lack of will alone would be a fireable offense, once the infection enters the final stage, it cannot be cured. It had to be terminated."
"He was protecting an innocent little girl! They told him to drink her blood or they would. He kept her alive and didn't drain her, he had control, but you still murdered him!" The tall man yelled, panting. The other suited men traded glances, looking back to the man with the glasses.
"He was put down. Euthanasia, a merciful act. You'd do good to remember that, Donovan"
"Frost, it was cold-blooded murder. He was a Magical, he would have been able to control it. That's why the Magical Acts are in place! Magical monsters are protected!"
"Monsters are monsters. And really, all you've done is prove my point. Reckless." A gunshot went off, yet another suited man holding a gun standing behind the now-dead Donovan. Frost slipped off his glasses, pulling out a handkerchief and wiping the blood off the frames. He glanced back up at the other assembled people, waving a hand for someone to clean up the mess. "Williams, make a note. We need to replace Subject RL-1964's Tracker. And send another operative to Hogsmeade, there's been more activity in that area than usual. We may have to...intervene."
"Yes, sir."
"It wouldn't do to miss something, not in these times. I can feel it, Williams. Something is coming. Something big." Frost fell silent, looking at the shimmering pool of blood on the floor. "And we'll be there to eliminate it."
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littlepanther: I guess you'll have to find out. To quote a really good show, 'Spoilers', and thanks.
Sakure Lisel: That is a valid question, and it made me go back to the book because I have read them so many times so I was sure that the spiders had called him Aragog. Turns out, they did, my memory wasn't failing. So my theory consists of the fact that spiders can lay between 2 and 10,000 eggs (which freaked me out as a child because I was afraid of spiders as much as Ron was and one time my teacher squished a spider egg sac cause it was scaring some kids at recess and she didn't do it right and thousands of baby spiders came out - actually that might've been a dream), so after 50 years that's a lot of spiders. Ron has a very valid reason for not wanting to follow the spiders, because thousands of giant spiders is messed up. And spiders can lay eggs every year or twice a year, and after fifty years of several different generations mating, I think the family has grown to a point where none of the spiders can probably remember how distantly they are related to Aragog, so it's less of a family relationship and more of a business. We see this in spiders in our world in the fact that some spiders eat their family members or mates casually, and in the books they were pretty ready to get rid of Aragog. Sorry for the long response, but you deserve it for making me google spider birth and having nightmares of the arachnids that came up.
Zimzimgar: Excellent fishing technique, but I won't confirm whether your theories are true. But it's possible *mysterious face*.
legendaryNOT: Thank you, I definitely missed that after my editing sweeps, but I think I fixed it. Unless I messed up twice, in that case sorry.
KaeterinaRomanov: *evil chuckles*.
Ana Luisa: Gracias.
Guest: *evil-er chuckles*.
DragonFoxx: ^
Dark Neko 4000: Third year, and a new arc tied to the show. You'll see.
spider2016: Soon. Ish.
understanding-rougerogue: I am trying to develop a difference between magical and muggle monsters, and a part of that will be explained next chapter. A lot of it hinges on the stability of a muggle vs magic monster. As to meeting with the American community, I'm not averse to it, but I feel like if she does, it will be later.
Guest: I'd say spoilers, but you seemed so worried, and I liked the 'so yeah' as a mic drop, so I'll just say that I wasn't planning on killing Arthur. You actually might have made me think about it, so that's probably bad for you. But I'll try not to, because he is a generally good character. But I'm a little curious, is there a specific reason you're so ardent about the issue or is he just your favorite character?