Regulus of Hogwarts: Lord of the Stars

According to Regulus, Aragog's angry appearance was not exactly bluffing, but it was nothing special.

The Eight-Eyed Giant Spider is classified by the Department of Magic as XXXXX level, extremely dangerous, which makes sense, but to Regulus, a spider is just a spider.

The number doesn't matter much; spiders are afraid of fire, let alone Fiery Blaze.

Moreover, from a certain perspective, more is actually better, whether for magical experiments or for their inherent value, the more the better.

The venom of the eight-eyed giant spider is a rare ingredient in potions.

Professor Slughorn ranked it alongside phoenix tail feathers, considering it one of the rare materials that needed to be obtained through connections.

Last Christmas, the person in charge of the potion ingredient workshop at home said that the venom of the eight-eyed giant spider in Africa was 30% more expensive than last year.

A pint of good quality venom is worth one hundred Galleons.

The Ministry of Magic classifies it as a Class C untradeable item, making legal transactions virtually impossible; it can only circulate on the black market.

Regulus remained calm: "No, Aragog, you've misunderstood."

Aragog stopped raising its forelimbs, its eight legs frozen in mid-air, and the row of eyes on top of it turned slightly, revealing a puzzled expression.

That expression on a spider's face would have been comical, but its size and the thickness of its chelicerae made the doubt seem like a threat.

Regulus looked into its eight eyes, his tone remaining calm: "What I need is you, Aragog, to cooperate with my experiments, not your people."

As soon as those words were spoken, it was as if the air in the nest had been sucked out.

Aragog's chelicerae suddenly opened, fully exposing the dark red inner walls covered with countless barbs that stood upright like two rows of intersecting spears.

Its forelegs slammed heavily onto the velvet ground, causing the thick spiderweb pillars around it to tremble, and dewdrops fell from the spiderwebs.

But it didn't pounce immediately.

It was a spider raised by Hagrid.

When it was still kept in Hagrid's cupboard, it had seen the wizard in that castle.

At that time, it was only the size of a puppy, curled up in the corner of the box, looking out through the gap.

Those in robes came and went through the castle gates; some possessed a gentle magic, like a spring breeze brushing against bristles.

Some are sharp, like blades cutting through stone as they slice through the carapace.

Some are thick and heavy, like rolling rock layers deep underground; you can feel the spider silk trembling even from a distance.

Each one is different, but each one is powerful.

It knew what was in that castle, and knew that there were people there who could crush it and its entire tribe into dust with a flick of their wrist.

It knew that the wizard in front of it, who was only in the form of a human cub, came from there: Hogwarts.

Tearing apart a strange, wandering wizard who has wandered into the depths of the Forbidden Forest and killing a wizard from that castle are two completely different things.

Hagrid's face, along with the blurry yet powerful figures of the professors, formed an invisible constraint within his tyrannical mind.

But this constraint was weak. Regulus's words were a blatant offense, treating him, Aragog, the lord of the eight-eyed giant spider, as a lowly creature that could be ordered around at will.

Anger burned its nerves, and red light flickered in its compound eyes.

However, the intelligent part of Aragog's tyrannical nature overcame his pure urge to kill.

It also knew what a wizard cub that could only appear before it in this way meant; it knew very well that it wasn't something that could be done simply by being bold.

There were too many things in the Forbidden Forest that could kill him. A wizard cub, he groped his way through half the Forbidden Forest in the dark, through the spider's perimeter, through the fog, through the spider web, and finally stood in its nest.

This means that from the moment he stepped into the Forbidden Forest, he was certain that he would be safe.

What alarms it even more is the almost instinctive danger warnings transmitted by its naturally keen senses.

This little wizard in front of me is dangerous.

It's like standing on the edge of an abyss, with bottomless darkness beneath your feet. The wind blows up from below, and even though nothing is happening, your body knows that if you take another step forward, you won't be able to turn back.

Aragog couldn't quite put his finger on what it was, but the spider's instincts, honed over decades of life, screamed a warning against any rash action.

Its eight legs instinctively moved backward.

"Do you know what we are?" Intelligence led Aragog to communicate: "XXXXX level, extremely dangerous, can talk, intelligent, but also eats flesh, including human flesh."

Its two foremost legs were slightly bent, its center of gravity lowered, and its massive head leaned forward a little more, its compound eyes almost touching Regulus's face.

"Hagrid restrains me, and I restrain my people from attacking any young wizards who stray into the Forbidden Forest."

But that doesn't mean you can break into my lair in the middle of the night, boss me around, and demand that I cooperate with your experiments.

Regulus didn't say anything more, but his face showed more expression. He raised his eyebrows slightly, finding the giant spider somewhat interesting.

It's interesting that Aragog brought up Hagrid on his own initiative; it doesn't seem like a test.

If it wanted to use Hagrid's name to pressure him, it could have said so from the beginning.

If it wanted to use Hagrid's name to pressure him, it could have said so from the beginning.

Bringing it up now is like saying, "I have a relationship with you wizards, so don't go too far."

Or to put it another way, I only refrained from tearing you apart immediately because of Hagrid.

He suddenly thought of something.

The moment it appeared, it called out its name, Aragog.

The name isn't a secret, but not many people know it.

Among the Hogwarts students, probably only Hagrid and a few professors who were close to him knew this name.

So, is Aragog giving him a secret signal?

Do you know Hagrid?

Where did you hear about me?

Which side are you from?

Regulus's lips twitched. A spider was exchanging secret signals with the wizard.

When Aragog saw that Regulus didn't react much when he mentioned Hagrid, neither taking the opportunity to build a relationship nor showing any sign of being exposed or feeling guilty, Aragog's suspicions faded away.

Its massive body moved forward, its eight legs taking turns, and its shadow almost completely enveloped Regulus.

The surrounding spiders moved along with them, tightening their encirclement. The clicking sound of their chelicerae opening and closing came from all directions, as dense as a downpour hitting a stone slab.

Its eight compound eyes looked down at him: "Young wizard, you have great courage."

Regulus's reflection was mirrored in those eyes, small and standing in the center of the eight eyes.

The reflection in each eye is identical, like eight mirrors reflecting the same person simultaneously.

It raised its right forelimb, tapped the ground with its toe, and made a dull thud: "Or, you're stupid."

"You think you have the right to make demands just because you were able to get here by magic?"

My spiderwebs cover the entire depression, each one connected to my nest. The moment you take your first step in, I know something has entered.

I didn't let them attack immediately; I just wanted to see what kind of thing dared to be so bold.

Regulus responded, his tone still calm: "I know your webs gave a warning, and I know you didn't attack immediately, so I'm standing here now, talking, not using my wand."

He looked up and met the eyes of the two people in the top row: "Actually, you should thank yourself."

After Regulus finished speaking, he made no extra movements, not even changing his posture, and his magic was well contained, without leaking out in the slightest.

Aragog's foreleg, its right forelimb, was already slightly raised, ready to make a threatening slapping motion.

But now that leg is dangling in mid-air, the claw at the front trembling slightly, unsure whether to fall forward or retract.

It's like being hibernated when a torch is brought close; before you even feel the heat, your body already knows to move away.

The little wizard in front of me did nothing, his magic was completely gone, but his body wouldn't obey him.

Even though there's nothing there, I'm too scared to move.

Aragog slowly closed its chelicerae, retracting the barbs into the inner wall. It pulled its right forelimb back from mid-air and gently landed on the velvet ground, making almost no sound when the claw tip touched the ground.

It waved its left chelicerae, making a short, low click.

As if receiving a command, the surrounding spiders retreated and regrouped in a circle at a distance.

Some of the slower ones were nudged by their companions with their forelegs before they could move backward.

Regulus found it amusing.

He showed nothing, and his magic was perfectly concealed, but the giant spider seemed to have some strange intuition and acted with unusual caution.

Spider instinct?

This somewhat comical thought flashed through his mind.

Aragog's eight compound eyes, which should have only the most basic visual functions, were able to discern surprise and uncertainty, and to show a weighing of pros and cons.

Regulus found it really amusing.

The giant eight-eyed spider is a pure predator with limited intelligence, acting mostly on instinct.

Attack, predation, reproduction, territoriality, and social hierarchy are all ingrained in our blood.

But Aragog's performance was far removed from the word "instinct".

It can communicate, weigh options, assess situations, and even knows how to mention Hagrid's name to draw a line and test the waters.

He glanced at the female one again.

Mosag lay deep in the nest, its eight legs curled up, its chelicerae folded, and its compound eyes half-closed, revealing a bewildered wariness.

It didn't understand what had just happened; it only knew that there was danger, and the danger hadn't left yet.

Regulus looked away.

This kind of wisdom is not innate, but cultivated.

Hagrid's talent in magical creatures is truly so amazing it's almost unreasonable; even Dumbledore might not have been able to achieve such a level of education.

Raising an eight-eyed giant spider from its infancy to adulthood can also instill in it awe of wizards and prevent it from controlling its colony to avoid attacking young wizards.

The fact that Hagrid could do that shows he's no ordinary person.

His talent in magical creatures is probably better than any professor at Hogwarts, and he would be among the best in the world.

Nobody recognized him. In other people's eyes, he was just a big guy who liked weird things, and had nothing to do with the word "talent".

pity.

Aragog remained silent for a long time, his compound eyes flashing with light, clearly deep in thought.

Its chelipeds occasionally open and close, producing a dull clicking sound, but it shows no intention to attack.

Regulus didn't urge him. It was quite novel to be able to communicate normally with a creature that was completely unlike a human for the first time.

Moreover, it must be said that Aragog's performance was not quite what he had expected.