Content Warning: Violence & Gore.

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Chapter XI

GINNY WEASLEY & the GREAT ARACHNID MASSACRE of 1994

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Viktor's first impression of the Granger girl was that whatever she had done to leave such a bruise on Malfoy's ego probably would've been fun to watch. The boy described her as one of Potter's worthless hangers-on with a vehemence that strongly suggested otherwise, though the sheer number of Hogwarts students that Malfoy seemed to feel personally slighted by suggested that it had more to do with whatever was going on in his greasy little head than with any actual animosity on their parts. Viktor did find it slightly odd that he couldn't remember spotting such a notorious bookworm in the library, given how many different routes through it he'd taken to evade his latest stalkers and how distinctive Granger supposedly was— but there were odder things afoot, and between preparing for the Tasks and avoiding as much attention as possible, he soon forgot about her.

His second (and third) impression was that she might be a bit mad.

He'd been finishing his morning run along the lakeshore, preparing to sprint the final stretch back to the ship, when he saw Ghazarian and a half-dozen other Durmstrangers dawdling a stone's throw from its gangplank— and only a few short strides from a quartet of Hogwarts students.

One of them was slight, pale, and coppery-haired. Two were identical save for the colors of their scarves, and were standing in a vaguely bodyguard-ish manner to either side of a shorter witch with her abundance of dark curls barely restrained by what must have been a truly mighty hair-tie, her hands on her hips, and a standoffish sort of tilt to her chin.

It could've been nothing, but if Karkaroff learned he'd spotted some sign of inter-school conflict and done nothing to intervene, the ensuing training session would be a pain. Championly duties, and all that.

Viktor jogged over.

"Ah, Krum!" Grönlund called in Deutsch. "You've got to hear this— seems Hogwarts isn't as boring as we thought!"

Granger —for who else could she be?— clasped her hands behind her back.

"Good morning to you too," Viktor trotted to a stop beside the Finn, gave the witches a shallow bow, and switched to Englisch. "Hello. I do not think we have met."

"Mister Krum." The twins sank into simultaneous curtsies, one of them flushed too deeply for her dusky skin to hide and the other impassive. "What fortunate timing."

"This is Parvati and Padma of House Patil," Vaukovič said in Deutsch, with no indication as to which was which and a look that said he didn't know, "Ginevra of House Weasley—"

—the redhead shuffled her feet and gave a stiff nod, somehow managing to look like she both wanted to hide behind the others and hex someone—

"And—"

"Hermione Granger," the red-scarfed twin interjected in Englisch—

"First of her line," said the blue-scarfed one.

Viktor wondered if that was as strong an endorsement here as it would be back home.

Granger inclined her head politely, still holding herself as if confronting a rival. "A pleasure, I'm sure. Pardon the interruption; we heard that hunting is a popular pastime at Durmstrang, and thought to inform you all of a unique opportunity to enjoy it here as well."

Her tone was neutral, but there was something challenging in her large brown eyes— which was sort of refreshing after weeks of witches simpering and eyelash-fluttering and unsubtly mentioning their pedigrees at him. (So was the sight of her warm bronze complexion amidst the snow-dusted grounds, the long corkscrew curls escaping her puff-tail to dance in the breeze around her face, and—)

"Is no trouble," Viktor replied. "You hear correct. We hunt in the wildness around Durmstrang. But we did not know you do it here also."

Granger hesitated then, gaze flicking down to his sweat-damp tunic and away—

"It's a recent tradition," said Weasley, un-hunching a bit as she stepped forward (though her face grew pinker by the second). "Don't think anyone noticed how quick the Acromantulae were breeding for a while."

Viktor's confidence in his Englisch comprehension sharply decreased. "…what."

"Acromantulae? Big man-eating spiders? D'you call'em something different in German, or…?

"No, is same —" He shook his head. "Is Acromantula nest here. On school grounds. Free."

"You see the problem, then," said Granger.

"Someone brought one t'the castle back in the 'forties," said Weasley. "It got loose, ran off, and now we've got hundreds of the buggers creeping 'round the forest, gobbling up anything they can. Bloody hazard, it is. The centaurs and giants do their part, but they don't have wands, do they? That's why we have annual spider-hunts. All us students, I mean. Duty to the school and all that. Plus it's wicked fun."

She had an odd little smirk on her face by the end, and Granger was watching her carefully.

"Annual… spider-hunt," said Viktor.

"Yup." Weasley nodded. "Usually not 'til mid-December — y'know, when they're sluggish from the cold — but we heard your mates were bragging about your Defense programme, and thought we might see about making an even bigger dent in their numbers this year. S'not like we'll run out of'em."

Viktor quashed the urge to shoot a Look at Vaukovič.

"You see, Krum?" Grönlund smiled cheerfully. "Not so boring after all."

"So in forest are horde of big, smart man-eating spiders…" Levin interjected, "and you want us to go looking for. Our delegation only."

"Of course not," said Granger. "We want you to join us in hunting them."

Pretty witches asking for help against deadly predators? If this was some sort of trap, it was perfectly targeted to lure the average Durmstranger.

"Ahh, of course," Grönlund replied. "And I suppose you want Krum to lead the charge?"

(Viktor appreciated the performance of caution, if only to minimize how annoying Karkaroff was inevitably going to be about this.)

Granger's eyes narrowed.

"What's wrong?" Asked Weasley. "Don't think you can protect your big, strong Champion?"

Grönlund stared her down. She fidgeted slightly at first, but set her jaw and held his gaze.

"I'm sure you know how best to organize yourselves far better than we do," said Granger, "but if it's safety you're worried about…"

—more than one Durmstranger crossed his arms—

"…I would point out that Acromantulae are cannibalistic. Given the choice between a fallen sibling and a group of mobile, dangerous magi, they most often choose the easier meal. As long as one doesn't attack too close to their central nest, that is."

Grönlund, thankfully, translated this into Deutsch. Granger looked slightly abashed upon realizing how quickly she'd spoken.

"How we know you speak true?" asked Vaukovič. "If are Acromantulae at Hogwarts, we would in newspaper have read. International news."

"Do you think so? If Durmstrang failed to prevent an infestation of…" Granger paused, full lips pursed into a pensive frown. "How many of you speak Français better than English?"

Everyone except Grönlund raised their hands.

"Good." She smoothly switched languages— "If Durmstrang failed to prevent an infestation of deadly magical creatures on its grounds, and then failed to fight that infestation to such a degree that its students felt they had to take matters into their own hands, would it be announced to the press? Or would it be kept more… discreet?"

… point.

"Besides, if you don't believe us about the spiders, then what have you to fear from a hike in the forest? Centaurs, who can be reasoned with? Giants, who prefer to avoid humans? Wolves? Perhaps a unicorn?"

No wonder Malfoy loathed her so much. A muggle-raised witch more eloquent than him? Must chafe something awful.

And if this was some kind of trap, she deserved at least one free shot at the boys for how easily they were snared; they'd sparred a bit with Cendrelysians and some older Hogwarts students, but mock-duels couldn't compare to the thrill of the hunt— and who didn't love to play Hexerritter?

Burkowski asked some clarifying questions about the local legality of certain curses for use on beasts, Grönlund asked some clarifying questions about the legality of keeping certain parts of slain beasts (which seemed to amuse Granger for some reason), Vaukovič promised to show the girls his bear-pelt cloak, and so on. Soon the rendezvous was planned, the witches had excused themselves to return to the castle, and the boys were hurrying back to the ship to spread the news, bantering about potential strategies.

…was it just him, or had Weasley's parting smile been a bit smug?

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"Hermione what the shite."

"Language."

"You said we were going to lead them to the edge of spider territory in exchange for them helping us catch one, not trick them into declaring war on the whole bloody swarm."

"Don't be melodramatic. Do you really think Durmstrang's faculty would choose anyone stupid enough to fight an entire Acromantula colony to represent them on the international stage? I'm sure they'll retreat as soon as it becomes prudent, with minimal injury."

Parvati stepped in front of her, blocking her path, honey-brown eyes narrowed searchingly. "...you want to see how they fight, don't you."

Hermione loved finally having girl-friends, but their superior perceptiveness could be just as irksome as it was charming. Harry and Ron never called her out on these things.

Parvati smirked in triumph. "I knew it! You want to see which curses they use!"

"Keep your voice down!" Hermione hissed, glancing up and down the corridor.

Padma cast a muffling charm around them. Parvati arched a perfectly-sculpted eyebrow.

Hermione huffed. "Not only which spells— I want to see how they use them as well. That's just as important, you know. Magical juggernauts have been defeated due to—"

"Simple mistakes, bad planning, and under-appreciation of the power of teamwork?" Said Padma. "Fairly consistent theme in magical history, Granger. I'd promise to direct you to some epics next time you're at the manor, but they're all in Sanskrit."

Hermione shot her a half-hearted glare. "You're taunting me."

"Oh?" Said Padma. "Forgive me, do you… dislike being denied information?"

…alright, she deserved that.

A little teasing was a small price to pay for months of hiding things from them.

"But seriously," said Parvati, linking their arms to prevent her escape, "we thought the plan was fine! Why change it at the last minute?"

"I'm not the one who invented the annual spider-hunt." Hermione looked over her shoulder at Ginny, who immediately made her feel bad about it by cringing. "Which was rather clever. And very quick thinking!"

Ginny scowled at her. "Someone had t'do it. They were suspicious from the start, and you're pants at lying."

"Well, that's a little harsh."

"Hermione." Parvati laid a hand on her shoulder. "Distracting people with sudden floods of information is like, your only method for dodging questions. We should work on that if you're going to keep up your… what'd you call it? Independent study?"

Well, the we was encouraging.

"We're getting off-topic," said Hermione. "Our improvisation is an improvement— this way the Durmstrangers will be focused on killing as many spiders as they can, and will thus be less likely to notice us making off with one. The fewer questions asked, the better. And really, the nest does need culling— it's not fair to leave it to the forest's indigenous inhabitants. They've already been fighting the things for decades! Maybe we should start an annual spider-hunt. Do you think the Quidditch team would be up for it? We'll need athletes in the—"

She winced as her voice echoed down the corridor, noticing that the faint blue haze around them was gone. "—lead. Padma, your charm's faded. Try that Venetian variation I wrote you about— it lasts longer on moving focal points. I find visualizing myself conspiring with someone at a masquerade ball helps."

The twins turned to look at her. She'd gotten used to them doing things in eerily perfect synchronicity, but being stared at like a puzzle was always a bit unnerving.

"Do you really?" Asked Padma.

"Sometimes," said Parvati, "you make me wish I were a mind-mage."

"I'm… sorry?"

"You know, so I could see what goes on in your head."

…okay? "It's my understanding that I remember things with uncommon acuity…"

Parvati gasped theatrically: "No. D'you really think so?"

"…so it might be interesting," said Hermione, "to be able to directly compare and contrast via Legilimency. Which reminds me I've been meaning to ask: how do Indian views on mind-magic compare to British ones? You've made a few comments that, upon reflection, seem to suggest a significant difference."

"Oh." Padma blinked. "Have we really not talked about that?"

When would we have? Hermione barely restrained herself from saying. Padma had spent the first several months of their acquaintanceship focused almost entirely on Harry on account of the snake-speech (which Hermione was perfectly okay with because he'd had desperately needed that and she'd had more interesting things going on anyway), and discussing magical Hinduism and Judaism had consumed the bulk of her correspondence to both twins.

"Hermione," said Padma, snapping her back to the present, "India is the birthplace of the Mind Arts. To this day many of the world's most skilled Occlumens are Hindus and Buddhists and Jains and Sikhs. The mind arts can be very dangerous if not practiced with proper care and a solid ethical foundation, so Britain's phobia of them is understandable, but still very much rooted in ignorance."

"Shocking," Hermione said flatly.

"Do any of you have a dicta-quill I could borrow?" Asked Ginny.

"Of course, why?"

"To take notes."

"Right, but on what?"

Ginny just stared at her for a moment, then looked at Parvati, who primly cleared her throat.

On their way to the Great Hall from Defense, Harry watched Hermione screw the cap back onto her bottle of aspirin and suddenly felt like an absolute dunce.

She and Parvati took several steps before they noticed he'd stopped. Neville stuck beside him.

"Harry?" Hermione turned, zipping her bookbag back up. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah, fine, I just—" he glanced over his shoulder at the other students milling around the corridor.

Parvati slipped her arm into Harry's and did that thing where she made dragging him along look like he was escorting her. They veered off into a side passage where the only others were a group of Hufflepuffs a stone's throw away, and then into an alcove, where she cast a privacy charm and said: "Go on. Spill."

He looked at Hermione. Swallowed. Fisted his hands in his pockets.

"What does my scar look like to you?"

She blinked. Her gaze flicked to his forehead and lingered there for a beat before she looked him in the eye again. "Why do you ask? It doesn't warp your aura like Moody's do his, if that's what you're wondering— which I assume is because you got it so young you were able to sort of… grow around it? Like one of those trees you see with old bikes sticking out of them."

Parvati put her face in her hands.

Harry blinked. "It… looks like a tree?"

"What? No, it— I know you know what an analogy is, Harry."

"Okay… so it's not messing up my aura, is what you're saying."

And Hermione hesitated. "Well, that raises an interesting—"

"Nope." Parvati reached out and tugged on one of her curls. "No dodging. Whatever it is, just tell him."

Hermione's expression pinched. She looked at his forehead again, and gnawed her lip. Harry's heart dropped into his belly. He shouldn't have said anything. It wasn't important. His scar hadn't even been hurting all that bad since—

"It looks…" she crossed her arms, hunching slightly, huffed, and rattled off: "The scar itself has a faint white glow to it, which is the same color I see around particularly violent curses cast at live targets, but weaker. This is the case even if I'm not trying to see magic, but if I do focus on it your aura appears brighter and more concentrated all around the scar in colors corresponding to your mood, intent, and how much you've been channeling recently. It's looked like this to me for as long as I've had magesight, so I have no idea how contact with Riddle's wraith or Diary might have affected it."

Harry… wasn't sure how he should feel about that. On the one hand, it wasn't getting worse… but then what was up with that dream over the summer?

"I assume you researched this over the summer?" Said Parvati.

"Of course." Hermione silently re-cast the privacy charm. "Unfortunately, between magesight being a highly subjective experience and there being no records of anyone else surviving the killing curse —not that we even know for sure it was the killing curse that caused it— I've yet to find anything helpful."

Right. Course not. God forbid there be easy answers to anything for once.

The dinner bell echoed through the castle before they could say anything else. Not that Harry knew what else to say.

"Right," he said. "Thanks for— all of it. We should—"

"Harry." She caught him by the wrist before he could go anywhere. "I've got hundreds more books to check— and even if it isn't in any of those books I'm sure Dumbledore is trying to figure it out as well. Sooner or later, we will know."

She didn't let him go until he met her gaze and nodded.

Then she gave a little squeeze, stepped out of the alcove, and was hit in the side by a spell-flash that threw her to the ground like she'd been shoved by a rugger.

In the heartbeat it took him to leap in front of her and cast a shield, another spell slipped past him; he heard Hermione yelp, heard Parvati yell, but didn't turn from the pack of older girls in front of him— five of them, all tall and pale and perfectly made-up, jewels on their ears and necks and fingers and mean little smirks on their painted lips.

"So he isn't entirely useless," one of them drawled.

"Well, he did fail to keep a leash on his pet," said another.

Three had green accents on their robes. Two had blue.

Harry took a deep breath. "Say whatever you came to say, and get lost."

They looked him over, unimpressed.

"Mudblood," called the Ravenclaw in front, looking past him, "if you're going to slag around, at least try to be subtle about it."

"Gryffindors," another sneered.

"What exactly are you failing to insinuate?" Parvati demanded, her voice colder and sharper than Harry had ever heard it.

"Are you thick?" Said the Ravenclaw . "Did you really think she could flounce up and flash her buck-teeth at Viktor Krum without anyone noticing?"

"Stay away from him," her friend said slowly, as if speaking to a child.

" You stay away from her," Parvati shot back, "or all Krum will see of you is pimples."

The Ravenclaw's smirk only grew. "Go ahead, cow-kisser. We'll tell everyone the mudblood did it. She's already got one mark on her record for assaulting her betters— what d'you think another might do to her chances of amounting to… well, anything , really?"

Harry's shield burst with a sharp crack as he lost control of the charm, startling several of the girls and snapping their attention back to him.

"Are you done?" He grit out.

"That depends entirely on your pet," said the Ravenclaw— but after another round of disdainful once-overs, she turned with a hair-flip and sauntered away, stooges in tow.

Harry waited, wand at the ready, until they were halfway down the corridor. Then he turned to Hermione, and his heart sank.

She was on her feet again, glaring past him with furious tears in her eyes and her two front teeth stretching down past her chin like—

Bloody hell.

"Come on," said Parvati, who was holding her wand-arm back with both hands, "let's get you to Pomfrey, she'll fix this up in no time—"

But Hermione planted her feet and held her ground, resisting Parvati's attempts to pull her away, staring at the girls as if trying to memorize what the backs of their heads looked like.

"It's not worth it," Parvati hissed, glaring right along with her even as she held her back. "They're not worth it."

Hermione's hand stayed clenched around her wand. She didn't even blink until several seconds after they'd disappeared around the corner. Then she took several deep breaths through her nose, jerked out of Parvati's grip, and stalked off towards the Hospital Wing.

Harry and Parvati shared a worried glance and hurried after her.

She didn't talk much for the rest of that day.

Frost crunched beneath their feet as they crossed the grounds. Another icy breeze swept in off the lake, nipping at their noses and ears. Ginny tugged her scarf up to cover her nose, silently thanking Merlin for the muggle jacket and denims Hermione had lent her. Hopefully the shrinking charms didn't wear off while things were trying to eat her.

Shite.

This was mad. Maddest thing Ginny had ever done, easy.

(Of her own free will, at least.)

And not in a Fred-and-George sort of way, either. Hell, not even in a Riddle sort of way— precious Princess Tom would never have risked his own perfectly-coiffed head to help a friend (mostly because he didn't actually have any, but still). He would only have faced real danger to make himself more powerful, or to show his stooges how powerful he already was .

But this was for Harry— to craft something that would protect him in a way none of her hexes could. She couldn't not try and help. Especially not when Hermione thought she was the best possible person to do the ritual with.

And if she also wanted to see what the girls who burnt up three tons of snake in just a few hours could do in a proper, bloody fight, so what? So would anyone.

That said, Hermione's utter silence as the forest loomed closer was starting to put her on edge. So were the nervous glances both Patils kept shooting her. She'd laid out the game-plan before they left the castle, but even after that Ginny'd expected a constant stream of advice she could barely keep up with, not… whatever this was. Hopefully less 'second thoughts about fighting a horde of flesh-eating monsters' and more 'grim determination'. No— had to be grim determination, right? What was some bugs after a bloody werewolf and a horde of Dementors? After marching down into the lair of the thing that nearly killed you and burning its corpse? Hermione knew what she was doing.

She had to.

The Durmstrangers were impossible to miss, on account of what looked like all twenty of them loitering atop a knoll by the forest's edge, looking perfectly comfortable with only those ornamental little shoulder-capelets over their fancy red uniforms to shield them from the wind. Sure, there was some fur along the hems, but still.

"Hallo, tapfere hexen!" One of them waved —that big burly blonde, whose name she was pretty sure ended in - kovich— "Is beautiful day for hunt, ja?"

"Oh, yes!" Parvati somehow called cheerfully back. "Just lovely!"

It was only as they reached the top of the little hill that Ginny saw that a few of the Durmstrangers girls— their uniforms were identical except for the fit, with warm-looking trousers and everything. Unfair. Was Prussia less sexist, or just colder? Only witches to over a dozen wizards, so… maybe both?

"Only four of you?" Asked Krum, looking as broodily fit as ever.

"What of it?" Hermione stopped several long strides from him. "We've got so many strong men to protect us, after all."

Ooh, snarky Granger. That was rare.

Niko Grönlund, the smiley Finnish bloke, stifled his chuckle with a cough.

Something-kovich, the only one wearing a full cloak —which, as he'd bragged, did in fact have bear claws attached— smirked. "No need to bait us further, Mademoiselle Granger. I think I speak for all of us when I say we're curious to see what you four can do."

"Hopefully not too curious," Parvati replied when Hermione said nothing. "It would be quite embarrassing to have to tell your Headmaster we lost some of his prize pupils in the woods due to their own distraction."

Grönlund let out a deep bark of laughter and translated her words into German. Several of his mates chuckled— and one of the girls, a regular bloody valkyrie of a witch taller than Krum (but not whatever-kovich), stepped forward and asked a question in something that definitely wasn't German, eyeing them skeptically.

"Ah," said Grönlund, "Ozoliņa wants to know what sort of spells you will use on the spiders."

Parvati looked to Hermione, who said: "We'd planned to stick to cutting and bludgeoning curses, for simplicity's sake. Perhaps a torchlight charm to repel them if the need arises."

"You said this is annual event," said Ghazarian, who seemed to have foregone an ushanka just to show off how pretty his dark, wavy hair looked in a half-bun. "That you have done this before."

"Yes, and?"

"And you do this with only blade and bludgeon spells?"

Shite.

Ginny, who was apparently their designated liar now, swallowed her nerves and said: "The upperclassmen take the lead and look out for the lower years, so we're mostly free focus on offense."

Ozoliņa let out a judgy little Hm in response to Grönlund's translation.

"We can do this way," said Krum. "No problem. We will be, ähh… schild-wall, yes? Schilde und speere."

Grönlund clapped him on the shoulder. "None of the beasts will get past us. All you four will need to worry about is the ones that get around us. We will also use volleys of blast-curses to, ah, mikä sana… disorient! To disorient them every so often— so do not be alarmed."

Ah. Leave all the hard work to the big, strong men. Charming.

"How gracious of you," Hermione said flatly. "That sounds like an excellent plan."

There was a bit more chest-puffing after that, but soon they were following her into the woods— and almost as soon as they crossed the treeline, the whistling of the wind faded to a whisper.

They'd barely gone a dozen yards when Whateverkovich stopped and held up a closed fist. Twenty wands were out in a heartbeat.

"Ce n'est pas nécessaire," said Hermione, "sauf si vous voulez voir si vos uniformes arrêtent les flèches."

That was when Ginny heard it— a faint, rhythmic thumping, growing closer. She looked around at the massive trees, but couldn't tell where it was—

She nearly jumped out of her skin when Padma laid a hand on her shoulder.

Part of the plan, she mouthed.

The thumping slowed, and stopped.

"Hail, Drithleog."

A figure loomed tall in the shade between two thick trunks, earthy paint swirling across his torso and a furry pelt around his shoulders, his legs too long and thin and proportioned… all…

Ah.

He trotted down the slope towards them, heavy hoof-falls slightly muffled by moss and sodden leaves.

"Hail, Echthigern." Hermione bowed deeply. "Tapadh leibh airson coinneachadh rinn."

Parvati and Padma bowed as well, and Ginny quickly followed suit— as did Krum and a few others, she noticed.

"Everyone, this is our guide."

That got the rest of them bowing.

The centaur cast a gimlet eye at the Durmstrangers. "A bheil fios aca uile dè a tha nan aghaidh?"

Hermione hesitated. "Er… feuch abair… sin a-rith — no, a-rithist?"

He stared at her flatly for a moment, then said: "Do they all know what they face?"

"We do, Sir," said Grönlund. "We are most eager to face it— it has been too long since we last had a good hunt, and we hear the need is dire."

The centaur let out a dismissive huff. "Whatever befalls you shall be of your own making. Yours alone."

"Of course," said Hermione. "Only a fool would blame their guide for what they themself sought out."

"Ja." Krum nodded, and the other Durmstrangers made various noises of agreement.

"Lean mise," said Echthigern, and turned to walk deeper into the forest.

Hermione glanced back at their group before following, the twins at her sides. Ginny hurried after them before she could end up amidst the Durmstrangers. Grönlund and Krum and Somethingkovich were close behind— Grönlund caught up with them after a few moments and tried to chat with Parvati, only for Echthigern to stop in his tracks and stare 'til the Finn shut up.

With every step they took, the morning light waned further. More and more trees faded into the gray fog that seemed to fill the forest yet always stayed in the distance. Once or twice Ginny spotted faint green motes of light far off between the trunks, and started veering towards them without realizing 'til Parvati tugged at her arm. Birdsong echoed strangely through the heights, always there but never close. Every so often Ginny swore she heard other sets of hooves nearby, but she could never spot their sources. Even the crunch and squish of her own footsteps on the twigs and leaves that coated the ground seemed muffled.

Echthigern led them up and down slopes made of rain-smoothed stones held in place by tangled roots, under fallen logs covered in moss and mushrooms, and between jagged fragments of boulders that looked very recently smashed— but mostly the terrain was all the same, all lichen-splotched trees and mossy, leaf-strewn ground as far as she could see.

It was like descending towards the Chamber; there was no sense of time, how far they'd gone, or how far they had yet to go.

Not until she noticed how quiet it was, at least.

If any birds roosted nearby, they were silent— their song had faded so slowly she hadn't even realized.

And then Echthigern stopped.

Directly ahead was a truly massive log, fallen across a creek-bed completely overgrown with enough mint to freshen up a dragon's breath.

(Or a basilisk's.)

Beyond it the forest seemed darker and… duller, like a faded painting— the moss more gray than green, the fungi growing from the trunks almost bone-white, and the trunks themselves…

Ah, thought Ginny. Shite.

The trunks were scarred.

Nicks and scratches striped their bark, and here and there gashes exposed the pale wood beneath, oozing sap.

"Cha tèid mi nas fhaide," the centaur said, so quiet it was nearly a whisper. "Sealbh math dhuibh."

Krum, Grönlund, Kovich looked at Hermione. Hermione stared into the gloom for a long moment before turning to Echthigern and bowing again.

"Tapadh leat," she said, and stepped forward onto the log.

The boys hurried to follow. Ginny hesitated, rooted to the damp ground 'til the Twins started forward. Better to be in the middle of the group than left behind it.

She hiked up onto the log, its sodden surface just squishy enough to make every step feel unsteady, but she made it across without slipping.

The moment she stood on solid ground again, she drew her wand.

That was where the Durmstrangers took point, arranging themselves in a wedge formation in front and to the sides of Hermione and the Twins— who beckoned Ginny between them.

Then they were off.

With every scarred tree they passed, the gloom deepened.

The canopy must've been thicker, Ginny thought, blocking out more of the sunlight. Ginny couldn't see it, because the upper branches were shrouded by fog. It was the same on the ground all around them— past a dozen yards or so, she couldn't see anything but gray, darker and darker the further they went.

A stillness lay over the land here. Intangible, yet heavy. And quiet. As if the forest was holding its breath.

Their footsteps didn't seem so muffled anymore; if anything they seemed much too loud in the silence pressing in around them.

So did Ginny's breathing. And her heartbeat. And the sound of her swallowing.

Hermione stopped in front of her, head whipping to the side, eyes fixed on… nothing that Ginny could see. Just scratched-up trees and shadows.

The Durmstrangers noticed and stopped as well, a dozen wands raised in an instant.

Silence.

The heavy thump of Ginny's pulse.

And then out of the gloom, faint and hoarse, someone called:

"Help…"

A chill scurried down her spine.

"Help," the voice croaked. "Help… me…"

"Scheiße," someone whispered, and was quickly hushed.

"Help!"

Ginny's heart skipped a beat, slamming itself against her ribs as every little hair on her body stood on end—

"Here…"

She spun towards the second voice, gaze darting from tree to tree and bush to bush— and finding nothing.

"Please…"

Shite.

"Over. Here."

Shite. Why did she agree to this? Why did she suggest this? Why didn't—

"Help me!"

"Du willst unsere hilfe?" Grönlund shouted— "Komme und nimm es!"

—and hurled an eye-searing ball of light into the gloom ahead, where it was reflected in hundreds of empty black eyes.

Countless long spindly legs twitched and scurried away from the light, over the ground and tree-trunks and the gauzy webs stretching between.

At first.

"Arsch mit ohren!" Someone else snapped. "Alle zielen!"

Between the Durmstranger's shoulders Ginny saw a hound-sized monster leap down and scurry forward, then two, then three and six and more charging towards fast—

"Sprenge!"

Spell-flashes lit up the trees and webs. The thunder of a dozen blasting curses echoed through the forest, followed by hisses and shrill shrieks.

"Gekrümmte schildwand, jetzt!"

The Durmstrangers stepped back, out of a their wedge and into a semicircle, nearly shoulder-to-shoulder as those in front cast a wall of overlapping, translucent shields and those behind aimed their wands through the gaps—

"Sprenge!"

Another volley of blasting curses flashed out and struck.

"Schnetzelt!"

Something hit the ground nearby— Ginny felt it through her feet, saw Hermione turn and followed her gaze to the bear-sized monster of a spider scurrying towards them—

"Beceorfa!" Hermione shouted.

A crescent of silver light flashed past her and through one of the beast's front legs— which promptly fell off. It recoiled, thrashing and hissing backwards, pale fluid squirting from its twitching stump.

"Lacero!"

A gash tore across its face, right through several big black eyes— and with a shrill, raspy shriek, it scrambled back into the shadows.

Which a half-dozen more were creeping out of.

"Don't just stand there!" Hermione snapped, jolting Ginny's wand-arm up.

Ginny's voice was a bit more stubborn.

The Twins stepped forward at her sides and simultaneously cast the same spell in a language she didn't recognize. Two more awful bristly legs fell twitching to the forest floor and two more spiders retreated as another leapt right at Ginny—

"Flagello!" She cried.

She stared as it fell, curling in around the gash she'd opened on its underbelly.

It'd been no different than nailing someone with a hex, except for the whipping motion. No harder than hitting a target— yet much more satisfying.

The spider scrambled back up, all eight of its horrible pupiless eyes fixed on her—

Something solid struck it in one of those eyes, and it fell limp.

"Maim or kill!" Hermione reached out with her free hand, and that something —a bloody foot-long-dagger— flew out of the spider's face and back into her grasp. "They'll do worse to you if they can! Bombarda!"

Her curse caused brilliant burst of flame that turned a horse-sized spider's face into a mess of sizzling sores and burning hair and made every other nearby cringe back, lining them up perfectly for the Twins' spells—

And mine.

Ginny raised her wand, and let it move.

Just like hexes. Just like target-practice.

"Lacero! Pertundo! Incendo! Skera! Bombarda!"

Spiders twice her size flinched back from her. Some leapt at her and fell in pieces. Others fled bleeding back into the shadows. It was like whacking bludgers into her brothers but easier and faster and more. Spells flew from her wand as fast as she could shout them, as fast as she could swing and flick and jab— curses that had sat in the back of her mind like tumors, finally let loose to slay monsters instead of helping them, protecting her friends. Her coven.

They were right there beside her, covering her blind spots and shielding her from the leapers and taking her place when she needed a breather— the Twins with their perfectly synchronized spellwork and Hermione with her flying dagger and burning, cleaving curses, cutting down or driving back the beasts neither Ginny nor Parvati nor Padma could stop.

"Zurück! Zurück zur Brücke!"

Ginny's blood sang in her veins.

"Back to the bridge!"

Her wand was an extension of her arm.

"Retreat!"

It was her sword and shield and torch, weightless and—

Something heavy slammed down on her back, knocking her to the ground and the breath from her chest as her head bounced off something hard. Through the ringing of her ears, she heard someone scream. She gasped for air, something deep inside her screaming at the hairy shadow looming over her, the cage of legs around her—

A crescent blade of moonlight sliced two of them off, and vanished. The shadow on top of her jolted shuddered and scuttled back until that brought them face to eyes and eyes and eyes and eyes and it stopped, long black fangs slicing down out of its mouthparts—

"Forceorfe!"

A blinding flash. A splash of warm, oily wet across her face. A hand under both her arms, hauling her backwards and up. Ginny scrambled to her feet, heart in her throat and a sharp ache in her head as the Twins let go and turned to keep casting. More flashes. More hairy limbs and twitching bodies thudding to the forest floor, more droplets raining down on her—

"—alright, Ginny!"

Another hand shoving at her chest— a fist closed around a familiar length of dark wood.

Yew wood.

She'd snatched it before it even consciously registered as her wand, and caught a brief glimpse of spellfire reflected in Hermione's wide eyes before the girl spun away in a whirl of unbound curls and roared:

"Harstþinneminwræþþe!"

Fire spewed from her wand in a brilliant, continuous stream, setting three spiders aflame, sending a half-dozen others skittering away, and lighting up the forest around them. Pale puddles reflected it. Bulbous bodies and curled-up, twitching limbs littered the ground— and between the trees Ginny saw some of those bodies being dragged into the darkness or pulled up into webs.

Easier to eat their dead than keep jumping into our spells.

The Durmstrangers had pressed a quaffle-toss forward, whooping and shouting as they hurled curses at the retreating beasts.

A hand gripped Ginny's wrist— one of the Twins, eyeing her worriedly. Hermione had turned back to them, silhouetted by crackling flames, her hair a wild mane around her ichor-spattered face, wand in one hand and dagger in the other like a smaller, darker version of a painting Ginny'd seen once of some Celtic war-witch atop a hill, calling down ruin upon retreating Romans...

"—before they all escape," she was saying, hoarse and breathing hard as her bright eyes flicked over the carnage.

Right.

Hunt. Capture. Ritual. To protect Harry.

Ginny looked out across the bodies, and in the gloom between web-wrapped trees saw two Acromantulae using their spindly front legs to drag the corpse of a third away from the light.

"Stupefy!" She shouted, red light jetting from her wand and into one spider's ugly face. It jolted, abandoning its meal to scrabble at its face as if she'd flung mud in its eyes while the other vanished scurried out of sight, but it wasn't stunned , already starting to creep away—

"Oh no you don't," she growled, and charged. "Stupefy!"

"Wait, don't—!"

Her second spell missed as the spider scuttled back, not as fast as the other but still too fast— and in running Ginny was suddenly aware of the burning of her arms and shoulders, what were sure to be bruises on the side of her head. And her back. And her knees. Slowing her down.

"Stupefy!" Hermione shouted, red flashing over Ginny's shoulder only to burst into sparks on a tree trunk as the overgrown pest retreated further. Ginny leapt over a puddle of goo, juked around a hulking carcass, and darted between the trees, wand raised—

And tripped. Hard. Her knees and one palm slammed into the ground, the other hand barely managing to clutch her wand to her chest in time. She grit her teeth against the three bursts of pain and looked up— into dozens of empty black eyes.

Three spiders on the ground, only a few feet away, more above.

Ginny moved without thought, shoving herself backwards just in time to get knocked down again, belly-up as knife-sized fangs stabbed through her cloak— right into the basilisk scales sewn into her borrowed jacket. It punched all the air out of her lungs, but it was better than getting jabbed full of venom. Ginny would've laughed, if she could breathe. She settled for punching it in one big lidless eye. The spider reeled back— only for two more to pounce faster than she could raise her wand—

And bounced off a silvery, see-through dome. Then came a hail of spells, flashing through the air above it and tearing into the beasts, slicing off mouthparts and gouging out eyes, driving them away from her. Ginny seized her chance to roll away, scramble to her feet, and press her back to a tree-trunk so no more of the fuckers could creep up on her before glancing back at the casters: Hermione, with Niko Grönlund and Viktor Bloody Krum at her sides and the Patil Twins panting behind them.

"Verrückte Frauen, ihr alle!" Said Grönlund. "What— why run off like that? You have death wish?"

Hermione's wandlit face did some interesting things as she tried to dodge the question, but Ginny was distracted by a slight motion in the branches above them.

"Stupefy!"

Being fresh off the second-biggest fright of her life seemed to make the spell stronger.

They all looked up just in time to see a spider the size of a boar tumble to the ground right in front of them. Between Ginny's stunner and the fall, all it took was another two flashes of red from the Twins to put it to sleep.

They all proceeded to stare at it for a bit, silent except for their labored breaths.

Ginny slumped back against the tree trunk, suddenly lightheaded.

"You want one alive," said Krum. "For secret."

"Well," said Hermione—

"Yes," said Padma, her voice and gunk-streaked expression equally flat. "We did, anyway. Thank you for your help."

Krum and Grönlund exchanged a Look Ginny couldn't read.

"How will you bring it back to the castle?" Asked the Finn.

Hermione stared at him for a moment, then scowled, reached into her jacket, and pulled out a thick coil of rope. Grönlund looked at it, and then at her face again.

Her scowl deepened. "We'll tie it up and summon the ropes. Repeatedly."

The boys exchanged yet another look.

"Die Bestien sind in vollem rückzug…" said Grönlund.

Krum nodded, a quick jerk of his head. "Vaukovič und Levin können es schaffen."

They turned back to the unconscious, six-foot-wide spider.

"We help you," said Krum.

Hermione crossed her arms, still holding a dripping dagger in one hand (which was a sort of good look for her, somehow?). "Why?"

"Firstly because our Professors will use us to demonstrate curse effects if we let young witches walk through a dangerous forest alone and covered in, ah…" Grönlund swiped a thumb across his cheek and peered at the goo that came off.

"Hemolymph," said Hermione, because of course she did— "And secondly?"

"No one does something this mad without good reason. If you were us, would you not be curious?"

"Hermione." Parvati's voice was flat, strained— "It'll go faster with their help. We can… figure out the rest after we get out of here."

Hermione turned to her then, so Ginny couldn't see her expression in the long few seconds before she gave a stiff nod.

Thankfully Grönund knew a charm for weaving rope into a net.

Having six wands instead of four (and two of them wielded by nearly full-grown wizards) was definitely the right idea; even switching out the work between three pairs, Ginny's arms (and shoulders and legs) and were leaden by the time the last of the hairy carcasses had faded into gloom behind them, and that bloody lightheadedness kept coming back in waves. At first it was alright, despite the oppressive quiet and the long stretches of nothing but walking— she kept glancing off into the shadows for any sign of danger, anything else that might deserve her curses… but nothing came. Ginny felt like a string stretched taught or a spell stuck right on the verge of casting, full of buzzing, buoyant energy and nothing to do with it except yank on some ropes every few minutes.

So it made perfect sense for her heart to leap when the spiders ambushed them again. They came from all sides— dozens of them, some small as cats and others big as horses, scuttling out from the shadows and branches and webs. Krum cursed a leaper out of midair and Grönlund stabbed a beam of blinding light into the swarm; Ginny raised her wand, the Twins at her sides again, Hermione stepping— past them, why—?

"You shall not pass!"

A wall of flame sprang up in front of them, chasing the sweep of Hermione's wand in a semicircle, catching a dozen spiders in its path and sending others scrambling back. A wave of hot air buffeted Ginny's grinning face, and a thrilled whoop burst from her chest.

Then Hermione tilted sideways and stumbled, very nearly tripping over her own feet.

Ginny dashed forward; Krum got there first, catching Hermione around the waist with one arm and flinging curses with the other—

—a spider landed three feet away, front legs raised and fangs bared 'til Ginny put a piercing curse between them but the fire only shielded them from one side—

"Time to go!" Grönlund shouted.

"Wait," Hermione said in a worryingly Lovegoodish tone of voice— "The spider…"

"We'll catch another one!" The Twins shrieked, keeping close to Grönlund as he retreated towards the flame-wall—

—which was shrinking—

"But— the net," said Hermione, "Krum, let go—"

Parvati shot a wild-eyed look over her stained shoulder. "You cannot be serious!"

There was a lot of running after that, in sudden bursts and stops as spiders tried to pounce on them from above while they were fighting off the ones on the ground or tried to sneak up on them from behind while they were fighting off the ones above. Ginny leapt over rocks and roots, flinging curses at every glimpse of eyes or legs or gnashing mouthparts— and soon she was forced to cast slower, gasping for air between every incantation, heart slamming against its cage. The swarm was thinning out for sure, a trail of bodies in their wake, but her spells were getting weaker fast, taking two or three hits to even scare them off. The Twins were barely casting at all, faces gleaming with sweat in the spellfire, and even Hermione was mostly using her dagger, turning bad throws into bullseyes with her magic and summoning it back over and over as the monsters closed in—

"There!" Grönlund shouted, firing off a ball of light that arced through the gloom and into a small grove, the trees grown so close together it almost looked like a cage.

Too close, just maybe, for anything bigger than a person to squeeze through.

Ginny didn't need to be told twice.

"Scheiße!" She heard Krum shout over the thumping of her pulse and the wind in her ears and the spell that flashed past her to cut down a spider before it could reach her—

"Dammit, Ginny!"

She ducked a leaper, whipped a cutting curse across the eyes of another sneaky bastard, and took a running jump the last few feet into the grove, between two trees to the mossy ground within. A moment later the Twins barreled through hand-in-hand, one catching the other when she tripped only for both to go down in a tangle of limbs and filthy robes. They barely scrambled aside in time to make way for Hermione, who stumbled in like a drunk who'd just wrestled a hedge —leaves and twigs and bits of lichen caught in her curls, which were everywhere— and fell to her hands and knees, breathing in ragged gasps. Krum nearly tripped over her, and Grönlund bumped into him as several spiders slammed into the tree-trunks, scrabbling and scraping and gnashing their mouthparts at the gaps between trees, unable to fit through— or dodge when both boys hurled curses at them. The beasts fell back out of sight, only for a dozen more to take their place, the hooked little claws at the end of their horribly legs scratching at the bark, reaching just far enough between trunks to force Ginny and the others back into the center of the clearing.

Everywhere there wasn't tree was all bristly black hair and segmented limbs.

"You know," said Grönlund, "I think we might have made them angry."

Ginny choked on a giggle, and spent the next few moments coughing and wondering why she'd found that funny. Yet another thing to talk to her mind-healer about. If she could figure out a way to do so without mentioning the whole 'we snuck into the forbidden forest to fight a swarm of flesh-eating monsters' bit.

"They'll—" Hermione gasped out, "give up— soon. Plenty of… bodies. Easier… meal."

"Y'sure?" Ginny managed, throat raw from the cold air. "What if they are angry?"

"Hunger… supersedes anger."

"Right." Made sense. "Any idea how long it might take for hunger to win out?"

Hermione didn't answer.

Grönlund settled into a crouch. The Twins huddled closer together.

"Is for potion?" Asked Krum.

Ginny looked at him, and found him looking at Hermione. He somehow looked better smeared with mysterious filth than he did clean.

"You want spider alive," he said. "For… das gift?"

"That means venom," Grönlund clarified.

The beasties continued to scratch and gnash and generally make a nuisance of themselves.

"Perhaps," said Hermione.

"Is not strong venom," said Krum.

"True."

"Many easier ways to poison enemy."

"I suppose so."

"For medizin, then? Heel-ing potion?"

"Perhaps."

"Du stellst die falschen Fragen," said Grönlund. "The question you should be asking is 'why is she so reluctant to tell us?'"

Hermione's gaze flicked up, sharp through the curly strands that had fallen across her face.

"…which would be easier to answer if either of us were any good at potions," he went on. "Unless it isn't for a potion…"

Hermione didn't move or speak.

"Maybe she means to keep one for study. To see how smart they really are, or something."

"If I don't tell you," said Hermione, "will you refuse to help us catch one?"

For the first time since entering the grove Grönlund turned away from the spiders, his easy-going smile fading away. Without it, his blue eyes were almost eerie in the gloom.

He wet his lips—

Leaves rustled overhead.

Ginny's head and wand jerked up just in time to see a purple flash cave in a spider's face— and for her to leap out of the way as it tumbled to the ground, narrowly dodging its thrashing legs.

Grönlund bellowed something Nordic-sounding, and with a skyward stab cast a beam of blinding light up into the canopy. A half-dozen Acromantulae shrank back, sending twigs and leaves raining down in their hurry to shield their lidless eyes… but the instant the spell faded more took their place, spindly legs reaching through between thinner branches to haul their bulbous bodies into the grove.

Ginny hurled cutters and piercers, losing sight of them amongst the boys' brighter, stronger spells, shoulder burning, each incantation scratching at her dry throat

Grönlund cast another beam of light— but it was dimmer this time, and half the beast ignored it as they clawed their way down the trunks. One tumbled dead from its perch, forcing Ginny to throw herself sideways to not get crushed beneath its bristly bulk— and in the moment she wasn't casting another slipped past the spellfire, reaching the ground before Hermione's dagger landed in one of its eyes. Every spider that fell gave them less space to swing their wand-arms or dodge the next one that fell; Ginny wound up for a curse only to bang her elbow on someone's rock-hard skull and almost fumble her wand, recovered just in time to pulp another cluster of eyes, barely ducked a swipe of grappling-hook claws, couldn't dodge another and thanked Merlin for the basilisk scales in the heartbeat before those claws hooked around one and yanked —

Ginny's left hand smacked into the beast's ugly face to break her fall, gouging its eyes with her nails, teeth bared as she slashed her wand over and over and over and over—

Something snagged the back of her collar and pulled too fast for her to struggle against it but let go before she fell on her arse, leaving her free to scramble 'round and aim her wand at its— snout?

Very large snout, smeared with pale spider-blood. Very large teeth. Bright yellow eyes pinning her in place.

It let out a hot, damp huff and turned away, vanishing between the tree-trunks in a blur of shaggy gray fur— quickly followed by another massive bloody wolf, leaving Ginny and the others surrounded by twitching, many-legged corpses. Which she could see because the gaps in the grove weren't blocked by hairy legs or clustered eyes anymore, letting light back in. The spider that'd grabbed her lay still, its face a shredded mess of criss-cross cuts.

She was abruptly, acutely aware of the filth clinging to her face and weighing down her hair and oily and bitter in her teeth—

Her stomach lurched. She jerked herself away from it and spat, nearly bumping into Hermione as the girl stumbled over to the edge of the grove and peeked through. Unable to see past Hermione's hair, Ginny looked through a different gap— just in time to see one wolf snapping and snarling to distract a spider while two others tore off its back legs with their teeth. Then the rest of the pack swept past them in a flood of fur and fangs, chasing the swarm back up into their webs. There must've been at least two dozen of them, each big enough to bowl Ginny over accidentally. Any spider that didn't flee fast enough got outflanked and ripped apart in moments.

"Bloody hell," she rasped.

Hermione raised her wand. Ginny followed her line of sight to an Acromantula that'd been cut off from the swarm— and was scurrying in their general direction to escape the wolves. It was almost in stunning range. Hermione's arm was shaking. Ginny's was too, as she raised her wand and tried to picture the thing

A bolt of red light flew past them and right into the spider's side, soon followed by two more that slowed its scurry to a crawl.

"Please excuse," said Krum, stepping around them. Grönlund strode out of another gap in the trees, already casting another stunner.

The wolves that'd been chasing the beast slowly circled, watching with those bright yellow eyes as the boys trussed it up with conjured ropes. Which looked pretty complicated, actually, what with all the legs. By the time they'd figured it out the wolf-pack was retreating uphill, moving in circles to pounce on the few spiders that gave chase. Ginny caught a glimpse of two silver-furred giants shouldering the boys aside to snag the ropes before Hermione grabbed her arm and pulled her along. They sprinted up the slope, limbs heavy, lungs burning, backs exposed to the hisses and snaps and scuttling behind them— Ginny glanced over her shoulder to see Krum and Grönlund flinging curses at any spider that came near the wolves hauling their catch, then stumbled and had to face forward again. The wolves atop the slope were silhouetted by faint light— an end to the gloom somewhere ahead, somewhere close—

So of course that was when she got tripped again. Something hooked 'round her ankle and yanked it back, sending her palm-first to the ground. Quick as she could she rolled onto her back, slashed her wand, shouted the first thing that came to mind—

"Beceorfa!"

—and it worked. The spider looming over her jolted back, its foremost leg dangling by a meaty thread, startling a triumphant laugh out of Ginny's chest— but only the one, on account of the wave of dizziness that swept over her and the sudden, sharp throb behind her eyes.

She scrambled back to her feet, managing to aim her stumbling in a general uphill direction just in time to see Hermione throw that dagger again — clumsily, all swing and no aim but it still flew straight as a spell— before turning to run as well. Ginny slowed down to keep pace with her, eyes on the uneven slope with all its roots and rocks, gray fur blurring past her this way and that—

Then they were at the top, looking downhill at a thick band of green that wound through the forest ahead— and the centaurs lined up along its far side, raising their… bows?

Oh shite.

She barely had time to flinch before dozens of arrows hissed through the air. Thankfully they didn't seem to be aiming at her.

It took her a moment after they'd stopped shooting to to breathe again, much less unclench her whole bloody body enough to look back.

Three spiders lay barely two yards behind her, arrows sticking out of their eyes like feathery flowers. Others dotted the slope, while their swarm mates scuttled full-tilt back into the gloom. Another volley hissed past her, killing or driving the last of the buggers away from Krum and Grönlund as their furry helpers hauled their catch the last few feet to the top.

"Gin?" Hermione asked. "Are you alright?"

Alright ?

She felt herself grinning, her whole body buzzing with energy like she'd just flown a lap 'round the burrow despite the aches and heaviness.

"That," she gasped out, "was bloody brilliant!"

Hermione and the twins just stared at her for a moment, wide-eyed and wild-haired and panting, faces smeared with dirt and spider-blood. Then Hermione's lips twitched into a slight smile, but before she could say anything, one of the twins yelped— and before Ginny could ask why, something nudged her in the back hard enough to send her staggering forward, nearly bumping into the others on her way downhill. She tried to look back, only for Hermione to hook their arms together and keep her walking with a muttered: "Let's not keep them waiting."

Ah. "Wolf?"

"Big one."

Right, then.

Ginny wasn't sure where they were, but it was clearly far from that log-bridge. They had to climb down into and out of the creek-bed, struggling not to slip on the mossy stones. By the time they reached the far side, all Ginny could smell was mint. It was only then, looking up at all the centaurs, that she noticed how scowly they were. Scowly and huge.

"Hermione," she whispered, bowing, "how d'you say 'thank you' in Gaelic?"

"Tapadh lea— oh!"

She turned to find Hermione looking back across the creek-bed— where a wolf taller than she was and broad as Bill stood watching them with its bright gold-coin eyes. Part of the pack lingered in a semi-circle around it, keeping their distance. The rest were crossing the mint a stone's throw away and disappearing into the forest.

"Should we… bow to it too, or—"

It swung its blood-smeared muzzle, flinging something bright across the creek-bed to land at Hermione's feet.

The dagger.

(Proper medieval-looking one too— she must've took it from the Chamber's armory.)

Hermione just stood there stiffly.

"Didn't think t'read up on wolf language, did you," said Ginny.

She shook her head, still staring at the beast… which, Ginny noticed, had several fangs and crystals hanging on a cord 'round its shaggy neck.

It watched Hermione a moment longer, then turned and padded away— clearing a path for the two wolves to drag the trussed-up spider to the edge of the creek-bed; where they dropped the ropes and followed the pack. Krum and Grönlund levitated it across. Even unconscious, the thing was bloody creepy, mostly on account of the lack of eyelids. It could've been staring at them, and they wouldn't know. Ginny aimed her wand at its big, empty black eyes and—

"No." Hermione grabbed her arm. "Save your strength for the walk back."

"S'fine." Ginny shrugged her off. "Really, I feel great ."

And she did, still buzzing and alert and awake in a way she'd never felt before. Everything was clear and sharp and just… more.

"You're trembling."

Oh. She was a bit, wasn't she?

"You," Echthigern rumbled, "are fools."

"…yes, probably," said Hermione.

"But we took a huge chunk outta the swarm!" Ginny protested. "Scores of'em, easy."

He let out a grumpy sort of snort-huff, looking from her to Hermione and the twins (who were also trembling, and also clinging to each other) and the boys (who were standing there like they'd just had a nice run, except for all the filth encrusted on their uniforms). "This way."

From there it was boring again— just following Echthigern through endless forest that all looked more or less the same and didn't have anything exciting in it, taking turns dragging the spider along ( without magic this time) and standing there like a damsel as the boys re-stunned it every time it started twitching again, all while the wonderful awakeness faded away. By the time they trudged out of the tree cover and back onto the frosted grounds, Ginny was left with nothing but sore, leaden limbs and a headache. Also gunk all over her robes. And face. And hair.

Echthigern stopped with a crunch of hooves on frosted grass.

" Èist ri gaoth nam beann gus an traogh na huisgeachan," he said, giving Hermione a very serious look.

"Tapadh leat," she replied.

He nodded, and trotted back into the forest.

"What—" Padma rasped. Cleared her throat. "What did he say?"

"I have no idea," said Hermione, somehow finding the energy to sound frustrated about it. "I've only had time to learn a few basic phrases."

"Is native tongue, ja?" Asked Krum. "Or… tongue of natives?"

"It is. Most centaurs around here seem to consider it the only respectable human language, which the reasons for are... probably equal parts fascinating and depressing. Thank you for your help, by the way."

Krum just nodded.

"No problem," said Grönlund, a bit out of breath. "That was much more exciting than hunting bears. Besides, it would be a shame if you went to all that trouble and didn't get what you came for."

"It would be," said Hermione.

"So? Will we take it in through the main gates, or…?"

She stared at him for a moment, then at the spider, and huffed. "No. We will not."

Grönlund swirled his wand at the grass, gathering frost into a sled made of ice— which he and Krum rolled the spider onto. "After you, Lady Granger."

She turned and trudged off across the grounds. The boys both pulled a rope over their shoulders and started hiking.

With the catch sliding along and no trees or roots in the way, they made much better time. Ginny tried to do her part, but the boys refused to take a break, which was tosh, but she was too tired and cold to argue. It was too cloudy to tell what time it was (other than 'not night'), but the lack of snow to play in seemed to have kept everyone inside; they made it to the greenhouses without seeing anyone— but there Hermione stopped.

"This is where we part ways," she declared. "Thank you again, Mister Grönlund, Mister Krum."

They looked at her, then the greenhouses, then her again.

She crossed her arms. "Would you reveal one of Durmstrang's secret entrances to non-students you'd only just met?"

"Maybe," Grönlund said with a smile. "If we'd just had a very intense bonding experience, you know."

"You seem like the observant sort," she replied. "If you keep your eyes open around the school, I'm sure you'll spot the… end result of what we do with the specimen."

His smile grew. "Maybe so."

"Besides, you should check in with your peers. To make sure they got out alright, you know."

"Ah yes, of course. Silly me. And how considerate of you, Miss Granger."

"Yes, well."

With a chuckle, Grönlund dropped his rope. After another moment of regarding Hermione, so did Krum (minus any sign of emotion other than vague broodiness).

"You are sure," he said, "you can bring rest of way?"

"We can," she replied.

He gave a shallow, businesslike sort odd bow. "Then we take leave. It was… very interesting, to meet you."

"…likewise."

They waited until the boys had walked out of sight to continue past the greenhouses, around the frozen vegetable patches to a rocky knoll near the forest's edge. There the twins took the lead, walking up to the second largest boulder. Ginny couldn't hear Padma's hiss over the wind in her ears, but the grating of stone on stone that followed was plenty loud as a door-shaped section of the boulder sank down out of sight, revealing rough-carved stairs descending into darkness.

What felt like hours later, they stumbled through a snake-themed door into the soft magelight of the Snake-Bunker's (Hermione's name for it) potions room.

Ginny was the only one who managed to stay upright.

"Bloody…" One of the Twins gasped, looking up through all the mussed, gunked-up hair that'd escaped her braid. "How're you even…?"

"Bill…" Ginny leaned back against the bars of the cage in the corner, heart pounding, trying to take deep breaths. "My brother. Curse-breaker. Knows about… possession an'stuff. Told me to… start running. Something 'bout… taking back control… of my body. So. Started doing that. Ev'ry other day."

Hermione groaned. "Tonks just hexed me into it. Merlin, I miss her."

The Twins just panted. Also coughed a bit. They'd lost their scarves at some point, and the spider-gunk had crusted over the House emblems on their robes.

The sound of ice cracking echoed through the room.

Hermione took another few deep breaths, heaved herself up, and joined Ginny by the cage. After a few quick cleaning charms and a swipe of her dagger, she pressed her bleeding thumb to the lock.

"Kun maftuha."

With a click, the door groaned open. Hermione swayed, barely catching herself on the bars as her legs failed her. "Merde…"

Ginny took it upon herself to actually get the spider into the cage, which took a whole lot of pulling and shoving and generally getting way too hands-on with the bloody thing. Its hair felt like a brush someone had plucked half the bristles out of. When the door clicked shut behind it she staggered over to the inexplicably well-preserved chaise and fell face-first into it. If it could last for centuries without falling apart, it could handle a bit of filth. Even with her nose smushed into the upholstery, all she could smell was sweat and smoke and bitter blood.

She wasn't sure how long she lay there— only that some smaller spiders must've bitten her calves at some point. They were somehow numb and itchy at the same time, but she knew it was nothing serious ( the same way she knew all those curses ).

She must've dozed off at some point, because the sound of hushed apologies jolted her awake again. She rolled over just enough to see Hermione kneeling in front of the twins, gently passing a wet rag over one's face. Something about the looks in their eyes reminded her of Harry, helping her up off the chamber floor. It sent a shiver down her spine.

Hermione glanced over, noticed her watching, and gave her a queer little smile.

"Wha?" Ginny grunted.

Hermione shook her head, messy curls falling into her face. "Nothing, I just… well. It's a shame you were named after Guinevere. You seemed much more like a Lancelot, today."

The words hit like a cheering charm. The gunk on Ginny's cheeks cracked and flaked as she beamed.

Forget all those gossipy third-year bints. These were her real friends. Her coven (and hers alone).

"Y'weren't so bad yourself, Lady Granger. Bet you made a helluva impression on those Durmstrang boys."

Hermione grimaced. "Let's hope I came across more 'determined' than 'mad.'"

Ginny surprised herself with a giggle. (When was the last time she'd giggled? ) "'S'wrong with a bit of both?"

"Help," croaked the spider.

"Harry!"

He stopped in front of the flaps of the tent, and turned back just to catch a familiar blur of corkscrew curls and old-books-and-cacao-butter scent 'round his side rather than his back. Hermione hugged him with surprising strength… and slipped something fat and solid into his pocket. He quickly returned the embrace, whispering: "Is that the—"

"Yes. It's the best we could do on such short notice, but I'm not sure how much heat it can repel before the spellwork starts to fail —let alone magical heat— so remember to stick to the plan."

His heart was in his throat. "Right."

"And wear it—"

"Under my shirt," he said. "I remember."

She squeezed him tighter. Not for the first time, Harry pondered the schlepping of a collection of books as an arm-training regimen.

"Thank you," he whispered, and squeezed back.

Her hand was still in his pocket when the camera went off.

Notes:

I've decided to put Durmstrang somewhere along the southeastern coast of the Baltic Sea because of its name, its German/Slavic/Russian students+faculty, & its apparent proximity to both Bulgaria and the ocean. Also Prussia still exists in some form in the magical world, so its official language is German— but many of its students speak French as well because it's the language of diplomacy throughout most of magical Europe.

With regards to the girls' abilities: Hermione's summers of obsessive practice aside, consider how easy it would be to maim something with a machete if that machete was weightless, you were full of adrenaline, and could score direct hits from yards away.