A/N: Realise this chapter was posted a bit late, sorry about that. I just started grad school and moved last month, the exhaustion finally caught up with me last week (free time is definitely shrinking, as well as my chapter backlog). I am in fact still alive, just very sleep-deprived. I have a week-long break in a few weeks, so I should be able to catch up with the backlog.

"ɪꜰ ʏᴏᴜ ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ᴋɴᴏᴡ, ᴛʜᴇ ᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴛᴏ ᴅᴏ ɪꜱ ɴᴏᴛ ᴛᴏ ɢᴇᴛ ꜱᴄᴀʀᴇᴅ, ʙᴜᴛ ᴛᴏ ʟᴇᴀʀɴ."

― ᴀʏɴ ʀᴀɴᴅ, ᴀᴛʟᴀꜱ ꜱʜʀᴜɢɢᴇᴅ

Chapter Eight: Atlas Shrugged

By the end of November, practically everyone was in full panic mode.

For Hermione, that meant the library; and an ever-growing list of monsters and obscure references to Obscurials.

It was comforting to imagine that the answers to all their worries might lie in reach if they only searched hard enough.

"They wouldn't really close Hogwarts, would they?" whispered Ruby, one quiet afternoon in the library.

"Well, let's hope no one else gets attacked," said Daphne. For the past hour, she had been edging away from Hermione.

Ruby sighed. "At least Harry will be back on his feet soon." For who knows how long. "If only we could find out what bit Anthony."

"They're analyzing what little of a sample they can get of the burn," Hermione explained. "It's only a matter of time."

But does he have time?

"Why not look at his memories?" asked Lavender. "They could look in a Pensieve."

Daphne snorted. "He has to be conscious for that, silly Lav."

Lavender looked hurt but said nothing. Instead, she looked down, embarrassed, and hugged her arms around her torso.

"Talking of memories, how did Harry lose his?"

"He fell," Hermione began.

"No, he didn't," Ruby insisted, sitting up straight. "Harry's never fallen down a flight of stairs in his life."

In fact, she couldn't really remember Harry falling when he wasn't sick or starving. Ever. He had eerily good coordination.

She glowered at the row of books in front of her. "Someone pushed him. Or, better yet, erased his memory. He saw the monster."

And, unwilling to hear a rebuttal and despite Daphne muttering under her breath, Ruby opened her Ancient Runes textbook and found straif, a sibilant phoneme in the Ogham alphabet drawn as four vertical lines with a single horizontal line drawn through all of them; roughly equivalent to the sulphur symbol in classical alchemy, crucial in the summoning of thunder, and associated with blackthorn, war and revenge, the balance between light and dark, and what lay beyond the Veil. Nearly opposite to it was tinne, a 't'-like sound represented by three vertical lines resting on a horizontal. Equivalent with metal, specifically iron, and associated with the holly tree, the power to repel evil, as well as protection, sacrifice, and hope.

The third-years started in the first year of Ancient Runes with Ogham, the most similar cypher to modern English, with twenty standard letters and six tongue-twisting forfeda. It wasn't a true runic alphabet, but constructions of it still held power. As an aside in class, the professor had mentioned that Ogham, a script favoured by the druids, lent itself exceptionally well to 'forbidden' magic. Ruby was familiar enough with the idiosyncrasies of witchcraft to know that 'forbidden' magic involved Lavender's Other Side.

But what gives the symbols these powers? she'd asked Professor Babbling. Who discovered them?

After all, as most of the professors were given to say, you shouldn't go around waving your wand and saying spells if you didn't know exactly what you were doing. Unfortunately, Professor Babbling was the spoon-feeding type of teacher, which, when she ghosted the topic past Dumbledore, was met by a lifted eyebrow and an 'I told you so' expression.

Tee, she asked, once she was sure no one was watching her, all three absorbed in their own pursuits, why do runes have magic?

The answer, clearly well-practised, came quickly.

Because people have used them for so long, imbuing them with their own magic, their own intents and associations.

They've said words, and they've meant things with them. Words are magic regardless of who uses them.

If you study runes, you'll understand the mental and physical processes of magic, which enables you to make magic of your own creation. Because they're older and simpler than modern languages, it's more intuitive for representing basic concepts...

Take Straif for example. The closest meaning is sulphur, and then you can go deeper into those meanings in the alchemical tradition... the soul, masculine energy, fire, warmth and dryness, et cetera. One of the kennings is to do with the 'increase of secrets,' so you could use it to help you hide something.

Another meaning for it is lightning, and you could use the rune while you summon that, use it to help you focus. But while you do it, you have to hold the right meaning in your mind, since it's not literal like spells are. When you don't, when you get carried away, that's when things can go wrong.

A few more centuries, and the English alphabet will have that kind of power, too. Maybe it already does.

After all, thought Ruby, wasn't she using ordinary English to contact Tee?

Curious, she carefully inked the next question in the Ogham alphabet, careful to come up with a translation that didn't include J, P, V ,W, X and Y (the ancient alphabet was missing some of English's modern Latin and French-derived letters). It was clumsy, but she managed at least the sound of it, and hoped he would understand.

WHO ARE YOU?

It took a while for Tee to answer, as if it was difficult to remember.

I

Or, more correctly, iodhadh. Ruby traced a finger over the inky mark, the six lines roughly resembling an evergreen tree.

It could be glossed as yew... but as far as she knew, Tee wasn't elderly... wise beyond his years, perhaps, given the time spent trapped in the diary?

Something to do with eadhadh, the letter's twin? Part of a pair?

Deathless? Immortal?

Or perhaps the I was simply an I. It was hard to tell how far she should read into it. Ruby wished she could ask him more questions, but he was right... each letter had too many meanings for her to hold a proper conversation with him in Ogham, so she switched back to English.

I've been reading through Magicke Moste Evile, and I think I understand it a little better.

Purest nigredo... you're sure you can make it?

Positive.

But, as far as I can tell from Dumbledore and Flamel's conversations... well, arguments... nigredo is made up of a bit of everything, and you said that where you are, there's nothing.

All I need are the three primes. You know what those are, I take it? And what happens then?

Sulfur, salt, and mercury? Mind, body and soul? Once the sulfur and mercury combine, they'll produce salt... the body... and that releases a lot of energy. Enough, maybe, to rip you from the diary?

Good. Can you bring them to the circle?

I'll find a way. Salt's easy. The other two, not so much. I don't think Hogwarts offers Alchemy since the professor, Aureus, died in the war. We've never used pure elements in Potions.

It was going to be difficult, she knew... to hold all the correct levels of meaning in her mind while she cast the spell. Wouldn't it be nice to have a test run?

Lavender stood up, stretching and yawning, while Daphne looked on disapprovingly, and Ruby put the diary away.

"Granger?" asked Daphne. "Granger, what's that behind you?"

Hermione looked up and dropped the book she was holding by accident, muttering under her breath as she turned to see what Daphne was pointing to. She rubbed her eyes.

"That's a large shadow..."

"Harry?" squeaked Lavender. "Harry, is that—"

"Be quiet!" hissed Daphne.

"It's not Harry," said Ruby, staring in awe at the darkness that had fallen over the library; yet, the sun was still shining, and the candles did not flicker. She shivered; her blood ran cold.

She had stood in the midst of an Obscurus; she knew what the shadow felt like. This was terrifying and unfamiliar.

"Let's go," she said shakily, listening to the castle tremble under the weight of the mysterious monster. A few books fell to the floor.

"Quickly."

They ran, silent, frightened, grasping each other's clammy hands for balance as they tripped over their own feet. The strong oak doors of the library bolted shut, but still, the monster slammed against it, the wood groaning as if it were being attacked by a battering ram.

And suddenly, Hermione's voice came through the muffling effect of fear:

"—WE'VE LEFT MADAM PINCE IN THERE, WE HAVE TO GO BACK, WE HAVE TO—"

"Stay back, Granger!" snapped Daphne, grabbing Hermione by the waist as she thrashed like a rabbit caught in a trap, straining towards the bolted-shut doors. "Potter, help me!"

Ruby turned slowly towards them. Lavender was curled up in the fetal position on the floor, sobbing quietly.

Numb and quiet, Ruby walked forward and wrapped her arms around Hermione too, and they all ended up crying together, a ball of cold fingers and scratchy hair and wet faces.

"Madam Pince's smart, Granger," said Daphne, between tears. "She'll know how to save herself."

"But look at Anthony!" Hermione choked out. "Oh God, this can't be happening, no, no, no, it was a normal day, why! WHY DID THIS HAVE TO HAPPEN!"

"Shhh," said someone, and Ruby realised that it was Madam Pomfrey, holding a nearly comatose-with-fright Lavender.

Madam Pomfrey passed around a small bottle of Calming Draught; Daphne refused the sedative, and following her example, so did Ruby.

The four of them sat, huddled close to together for what little comfort it gave, while professors went in and out of the library; Professor McGonagall in her pointy hat, Professor Snape in his bat-like black robes, Professor Dumbledore in garish turquoise covered in a constellation pattern, matching colours with an inappropriately jovial Professor Lockhart.

"Where's Madam Pince?" Hermione kept saying.

Ruby watch Snape peel off his gloves, then walk over, and kneel down to be eye-level with them. His expression was uncharacteristically... genuine.

Her stomach lurched.

"She is dead, Granger. The monster savaged her."

That set off a cacophony of wailing, and Ruby felt half-guilty about not being similarly distraught.

"It is tragic," said Snape quietly, "but it is fortunate that the four of you were able to escape with no bodily harm."

"What do you mean, sir?" asked Lavender in a small voice. "Sorry, it-it savaged her... h-how? W-Why?"

Snape sighed. It was a long time before he answered.

"The monster had been eating her," he explained. "Perhaps before the four of you even noticed its presence."

"So-so it ate, it ate Anthony's arm?"

Bile stung the back of Ruby's throat. She squeezed her eyes shut, and like Hermione, willed this not to be real.

"A known wizard killer designated XXXXX," whispered Daphne. "Just eleven of them. Go on, name them, Granger."

Hermione hiccuped and gave Daphne a grateful look.

"Acromantulas," she began unsteadily, and Ruby tried her best to focus on the monsters themselves and not Madam Pince's ultimate fate. "Acromantulas, basilisks, chimaeras, dragons, Horned Serpents, lethifolds, manticores, nundus, quintapeds, wampus cats, and werewolves."

"It is not a full moon," said Snape. "Nor is there evidence of fire."

"A Quintaped, maybe? They're native to Scotland," said Hermione, rubbing her eyes.

Ruby shuddered. They were carnivorous, with a taste for humans, according to both Hagrid and Anthony.

She stared at her hand splayed out on the carpet, tried to focus through the heady buzz of vertigo. Squinted, and hoped this out-of-body experience would end.

"But not venomous," she whispered. "Anthony's bite had venom in it."

"Perhaps an Acromantula is the culprit," said Professor Snape quietly. "Mr. Goldstein's test results have been... inconclusive due to the extent of the tissue necrosis."

"Harry's up, dears," said Madam Pomfrey, kneeling down next to Snape. "Perhaps you'd like to see him? And some hot chocolate, up you go. You'll feel better with something warm in you."

It was Dumbledore's office that Madam Pomfrey ushered them into, correctly guessing that the Hospital Wing was too grim for an already grim day.

There was Harry, sitting down with a pair of wooden crutches lying at his feet ('If you need them, dear, best not to fall and hurt yourself if you can help it'), Ron sitting on the floor with Fawkes on his shoulder, Professor McGonagall, white in the face and staring into a cup of tea as if she were trying to scry something, Hagrid, sobbing into his enormous mug, and Professor Dumbledore, of course, by the window.

Ruby found that Madam Pomfrey was right about the hot chocolate; she did feel a tiny bit better. Less nauseous. Maybe it was potioned.

Maybe she didn't care.

At least Harry was here. Safe, and alive.

For now.

"All my fault," Hagrid began, blowing his nose with an enormous, frilly handkerchief. "Aragog an' Mosag an' all th' others, never should 'ave brought 'em. Tom was right, I mus' be mad keepin' Aragog, 'round children 'specially—"

"Tom?" asked Harry, looking around for clarification, but Dumbledore shook his head. Inexplicably, Ruby's hand went towards where the diary was hidden.

"Aragog? Mosag? Who are these people, Hagrid?"

"For once, Potter is right," said Snape, looking equal parts furious and miserable. "Explain yourself, Hagrid. Who is Aragog?"

Hagrid sniffled, trying to make himself small; an impossible task. It might have been funny if not for the current circumstances.

"Found him when he was jus' a baby, a wee, harmless thing. He didn' hurt nobody. Sent 'im into th' Forest all them years ago, when he got accused—"

"What is Aragog, Hagrid? Accused of what?"

Frightened by Snape's tone, Lavender pressed herself closer between Daphne and Ruby, and the former put an arm around her.

It was Dumbledore who answered.

"An Acromantula, Severus. Accused, wrongly, of being Slytherin's monster."

"Professor Dumbledore, with all due respect," Snape seethed, white-knuckling the back of Harry's chair, "are you completely insane, or completely ignorant? Hagrid, at least, has the excuse of being an oaf."

"You don't mean an Acromantula — here, in—" Madam Pomfrey began.

"Yes, Madam Pomfrey," said Snape, "a giant, venomous, carnivorous spider which can grow to the size of a large elephant. Here in Hogwarts, amongst children. Precisely. A reaction of disbelief is indeed the appropriate one."

"Good heavens," she muttered.

"Only in th' Forest," said Hagrid morosely. "No reason for 'em to venture out, plenty o' hunting in there."

"Hang on a second," Ron interrupted, sounding shaken. "Hagrid, them? Acromantulas? Giant spiders? How many are there?"

He gave Harry a disbelieving look, muttering, "Blimey."

"Sorry, I'm sorry," said Hagrid tearfully. "An' poor Madam Pince."

"How many, Hagrid?" pressed Snape.

Ruby looked to Dumbledore; he had sat down at his desk, gaze fixed intently on Hagrid. Fawkes alighted from Ron's shoulder to land on his perch, following the headmaster's gaze.

"Hundreds," he choked out, under the double weight of their imposing stares. "Please don'—"

"I'm sorry, Hagrid," Professor McGonagall interrupted, seeming to wake from a stupor. "A child has been injured, badly, and one of our colleagues has died in a gruesome fashion."

The deputy headmistress looked around the room, her tired eyes rimmed red.

"They have to be put down, Hagrid; at the very least, removed from the school grounds. Not for revenge, but for the fact of saving lives — Professor Dumbledore, what do you say?"

He sighed, and for the first time, Ruby thought he looked all one hundred-and-eleven years.

"I am inclined to agree, Minerva."

"Bu' what if they didn' do it, Professor?" asked Hagrid, his expression forlorn.

"There is a concept called Occam's razor," snapped Snape. "The simplest answer is usually the best."

"I—" Hagrid began.

Snape slammed his fist on Dumbledore's desk, making half of the room jump in surprise. He turned to Hagrid once more, snarling — practically growling with rage.

"Irma is dead because of you, you half-wit!"

Hagrid looked to Dumbledore; Dumbledore kept his own counsel.

Madam Pomfrey stood up, smoothing her apron.

"Perhaps the students should go, Professor Dumbledore."

He nodded.

"That would perhaps be best, I think. Madam Pomfrey, if you would"

"Mum and Dad will send me home," whispered Daphne, as Madam Pomfrey led them out of the office.

Ruby heard raised voices behind the closed door, and wondered if she was really indifferent to the Acromantula situation, or just emotionally spent. With a shudder, she turned to face away from the door, sliding her shaking hands down her robes.

"I want to go home," Hermione agreed tearfully, her head buried in Madam Pomfrey's shoulder. "H-Harry and Ruby, where will you go?"

Harry swallowed, then said what what they were both thinking: "Hogwarts is home. We can't go anywhere else."

"You could stay with us," Ron offered.

"But what about me? I could hurt you, especially like this," pressed Harry. "What about Voldemort?"

It went unsaid, but separating them was out of the question; it didn't even need consideration.

Ron frowned at his refusal, but said nothing more, staring glumly at his shoes.

"I've just thought of something," said Lavender dreamily, clearly having taken too many sips of Calming Draught. "If they know it's an Acromantula, doesn't that mean they can save Anthony?"

"It is too dangerous, until we are sure," said Madam Pomfrey, her voice sweet and light as usual, but Ruby could tell that she was struggling to keep her composure.

Harry, in particular, seemed disturbed; his head cocked to the side as if he were listening out for something.

"Say those monsters back again, Hermione," he said finally.

Hermione sniffled, and looked up.

"Acromantulas, basilisks, chimaeras, dragons, Horned Serpents, lethifolds, manticores, nundus, quintapeds, wampus cats, and werewolves."

"A Horned Serpent?" Harry repeated. "What are those?"

"What they sound like, more or less," said Hermione, still sniffling. "The jewel in their skulls grants the power of flight and invisibility. And they're venomous."

Harry didn't respond; but Ruby could guess what he was thinking. After all, Hermione didn't know he was a Parselmouth.

"Harry," she whispered. "Have you heard something?"

He turned his head, and stared at her quietly for a while, as if he could not decide what to say. She held her breath.

"Yes."

"What?"

Harry sighed, crossed his arms, and looked away.

"There will be blood. Not like last time, they said, and not mine. But there will be blood."

"Then why didn't you tell someone?" snapped Ruby, grabbing the sleeve of his robes to let everyone else walk ahead. His eyes widened, and Harry stumbled slightly; she remembered he was still sick, and, feeling guilty, let go.

"Why didn't you?" she repeated.

Harry shut his eyes, leaned back against the wall, and laughed mirthlessly.

There was something unsettling about it. (Everyone's a little off today, I suppose...)

"You don't think they would be scared of me? Telling people I spoke to snakes and they told me about blood, that's a good idea... and what if it's me?"

"Harry—"

"It's not like I knew all along! Look, I didn't know I could speak Parseltongue! What else don't I know about myself?" he snapped. "Look, maybe you can do something bad... something great and terrible." He had paled, his eyes over-bright and his expression frantic. "And not know you've done it at all."

"Don't even think about that, Harry?"

"But where was I?" he shouted, and when he realised that he had frightened Ruby, repeated quietly, sagging against the wall: "Where was I?"

"I'm going home," said Seamus, throwing everything he could find into his trunk. Harry propped himself up on his elbow to watch.

"You-Know-Who, then Obscurials, then flesh-eating monsters— what next, Dean?" he asked, shaking out a jumper and folding it haphazardly.

Here we go again. Not so much as a "Oh, Harry, you're back from the Hospital Wing. Glad to see you're alright after that harrowing experience."

They're just scared, he told himself. They don't know what they're saying.

But the weight of self-doubt and guilt was heavy.

Harry, we're here. We're waiting―

Shut up, shut up, shut up!

The ring was blistering-hot against his hand, spinning and burning, but he had to force the shadow down. Ignore it. Starve it of the negative emotions it craved.

Stop talking to me.

Harry...

Stop, stop!

Just let us, let go, Harry... it'll be easy... you will be safe... please... let me rip... kill... say the word... open up... come... call me... lead me to him... let me... blood...

Was that the shadow? Or the mysterious voice?

"Who are you?" he whispered back. "Why can't anyone else hear you?"

If only I can hear the monster... what if it is the shadows, what if it's me?

Last time, the snakes had said. There must have been a first time.

Harry sat up in bed, pointlessly running a hand through his hair. After about two minutes, he gave up.

The Hospital Wing it was. Madam Pomfrey seemed to remember the last time a monster killed someone in Hogwarts.

He threw the sheets aside, ignored the scared looks from the other boys (Ron was still fast asleep), and left the dormitory, wrapping the Invisibility Cloak around him to avoid suspicion.

"Harry!" gasped Madam Pomfrey when he was safely inside the Hospital Wing and had revealed himself. "You gave me such a fright―" She put a hand to his forehead as if trying to tell if he had a temperature, and Harry stiffened at the touch. It brought back memories of Aunt Petunia checking Dudley's temperature, but she'd never cared about his or Ruby's, unless it was something contagious...

He shook his head, as if to clear that thought, then peered behind Madam Pomfrey. Anthony had still not been moved.

I didn't hurt him, did I? I couldn't have done it. Quirrell and Anthony are two different people.

"Madam Pomfrey," said Harry, folding the Invisibility Cloak under his arm, "could you tell me about the last monster?"

Her face paled, and she spun on her heel and began to walk quickly away.

"Please! I need know it's not me!"

Madam Pomfrey turned back; shoulders drooping and expression softening.

"Fine... I suppose," she said reluctantly, sitting down on the nearest bed and patting the mattress beside her. "I'll tell you."

Harry sat down, the Cloak in his lap, and waited for her to speak.

"There is a legend," she began, swallowing nervously, "that before Gryffindor and Slytherin had their fateful falling-out, Salazar Slytherin left a secret chamber in this school. In that chamber, slept a monster, who would only wake when his own true heir returned to the school, to purge Hogwarts of those Slytherin deemed unworthy."

It was Harry's turn to feel uncomfortable.

"Let me guess, Madam Pomfrey... Muggle-borns?"

"Exactly," she said, eyes downcast. "Headmasters and professors alike searched for the chamber, for nearly a thousand years, and concluded eventually that the chamber was mere legend, and the monster nothing but an empty threat."

"But it wasn't, was it?"

"Of course not. Someone found the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets, during my time at Hogwarts. A girl died," she finished in a horrified whisper. "Many more students were Petrified... and most Muggle-born students feared for their lives. A crime of heinous proportions, and no name to it, not even to this day."

"And what kind of monster was it?" pressed Harry.

Madam Pomfrey's brow furrowed. "Not an Obscurial, dear. Don't you worry yourself, feeling guilty about that."

"And is it that monster again?"

"I think not," said Madam Pomfrey. "Not that it would help... no one found out who it was, after all."

"No one?"

Madam Pomfrey fiddled with the strings of her apron. "No, no one... Hagrid was accused, what with his unfortunate love for monstrous and fearsome creatures, they surmised he'd stumbled upon Slytherin's monster and let it roam free. Even spent a few weeks in Azkaban, poor thing... he was only fourteen. Eventually, Dumbledore forced the Ministry to release him; there was no evidence, and the worst he'd done was to be a naïve, kindhearted boy and a half-giant. The real culprit must have been... dastardly clever and wholly devoid of conscience," she spat.

"Hagrid's a half-giant?" asked Harry, amazed. He supposed it made sense... but Hagrid, a half-giant! So strange to think he had been an ordinary child just two years ago, and now one of his best friends was a half-giant.

"Oh, don't tell anyone!" said Madam Pomfrey, her hands flying to her mouth as if to hold back the words that had already escaped. "No one's to know. Silly me, must be the stress..."

"He could speak Parseltongue, Salazar Slytherin, couldn't he?" asked Harry. "And what about his... this heir?"

"I suppose so, dear," said Madam Pomfrey, tending to Anthony and absorbed in her work. "I am nowhere near an expert myself... perhaps Professor Kettleburn might be enlightening... or poor Hagrid, why don't you go and see him? It's bound to cheer him up."

And so he did, setting out across the freshly-fallen snow towards Hagrid's hut, where Hagrid welcomed him into the messiest room Harry had ever seen (even taking into account its usual state). Tactfully, he waded across the clutter without a word, thanked Hagrid for the even more indigestible than usual rock cakes, and murmured words of encouragement and comfort while he sobbed.

After about twenty minutes, Harry said: "Hagrid, I need to show you something... have you got anything that looks like a snake?"

Nodding, Hagrid got up, clattered around, then handed him a decorative ice pick, upon which was carved a tiny snake.

Not much, but Harry supposed it would have to do, holding the ice pick gingerly, and staring into the snake's eyes.

"Hello?" he said at first. English.

Harry tilted the ice pick this way and that, trying to find an angle where the fire made the snake's eyes glint as if they were real. It was pointless.

But he had the ouroboros ring! How could he have forgotten?

Gingerly, trembling, he lifted his hand so that the tiny emerald eyes were eye-level, and said: "Move."

Obediently, the tiny snake began to inch forward, eating its own tail even as it grew, the snake's eyes burning fiercely.

Harry looked up; he had forgotten himself in the feeling of triumph. Hagrid was staring at him, eyes wide with fear, pale under his massive beard. He gripped the arms of his chair, the floral-printed fabric warping under his massive hands.

"Harry, yer a― a―"

"―Parselmouth," Harry finished quietly. "Tell me, it is really that scary?"

Surely, Hagrid, who loved Blast-Ended Skrewts, Fire-Breathing Salamanders, and Acromantulas, couldn't be afraid of the mere ability to speak to snakes?

Hagrid could say nothing. His mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water.

"Hagrid, you can't seriously be afraid of me ― it's just me! So what, I can speak to snakes, probably the most boring and self-absorbed creatures I've ever met? I'm an Obscurial, for crying out loud ― shouldn't you be afraid of that?"

I wish Anthony was here, thought Harry, with a strange, sudden pang. He was too terrified to tell Hermione, Ginny was scared of him, Ron wasn't sure what to think. Only Ruby didn't care, and it didn't matter, that was different. Virtually a given.

Anthony would probably take it in stride, he knew. Want to run experiments on him, most likely. Irritate him with endless questions.

"What bit Anthony, Hagrid?"

"Dunno," said Hagrid, rubbing his eyes. "Not Aragog, Harry, Aragog'd never―"

"Think, Hagrid!" he said, grabbing him by the shoulders. Harry attempted to shake him, but of course, failed. "Think! It's life or death now!"

But Hagrid was in no state to answer questions, his head lolling against his chest as he sobbed over his Acromantulas and their not-so-terrible fate; being shipped off back to the forests of South Asia.

"Think, Hagrid, or I'll go and talk to those giant spiders myself!"

Furious that the threat had no effect, Harry decided to play very unfairly.

"What about that girl who died ― couldn't you have prevented that?"

"IT WASN'T ARAGOG!" roared Hagrid, between sobs. "IT WASN'T HIM!"

"You can't just go around making friends with monsters! Especially not in a school!"

Hagrid looked up at him, and Harry could not stop the thought from creeping in.

Aren't I a monster, too? What's the difference between me and this Aragog? We can both speak, we can both love... we can both be capable of terrible destruction.

Am I the heir? Did I open the Chamber?

What did I do?

He shut his eyes, and wished for a time when his existence didn't dangle on the precipice of disaster.

"I think I'll go now," said Harry.

And then he tore off in the direction of the castle, and, hopefully, tranquility and escape from guilt.