“Th’ young spiders are scattered over a pretty large piece of th’ Forest. Some of ‘em are near where th’ old colony use’ t’ be, but not too near. About a week pas’, m’ rounds took me that way, firs’ time in a while. I went by where one of th’ young females had set up, Arerag, is her name, an’ she was gone. Her practice webs was still there, tattered sommat, but not anythin’ th’ weather couldn’t have done. I wasn’ tha’ worried, but it was a bit strange. They mostly don’t move aroun’ a lot, once they settle on a spot.”

  “I put th’ pups on her trail anyways. It went in a fair straight line, almos’ a mile, and ended at a big oak tree in the middle o’ a pretty thicketty grove. I looked aroun’, nothin’ t’ see on the ground. I knows they’re jus’ as comfortable up in the treetops, though, an’ I peeked aroun’ til I could see some webbin’ up high.”

  “Harry, I don’ have t’ tell yer that climbin’ trees ain’ m’ cup of tea. I called out a few times. Arerag knew m’ voice, an’ lowered ‘erself on a strand of webbin’ t’ where she could see me clear.”

  “She seemed fine, though it’s hard t’ tell with ‘em sometimes. I asked why she had moved her nest. An’ this is where it started t’ get odd-ish.”

  “Matter-of-fact-like, she says, ‘The lights didn’t like me. They said I wasn’t welcome, and that I should go away. So, I did.’ ”

  “Well, I was that taken back, I tell yeh. I couldn’t get much else out o’ her, jus’ tha’ th’ lights talked, an’ kep’ tellin’ her to leave because they were busy, and since she was too busy to talk to anyone, much less lights, she just lef’.”

  “She wanted to get back to her web design, but I got her t’ answer a few more questions. I asked her what the lights were busy doin’, an’ she said. ‘Magic.’ I asked what kind o’ magic, and she didn’t know. She could tell that it was the same spell, over and over, and over.”

  “Then I asked what colour the lights were, bu’ tha’ were a waste of time. I forgot tha’ spiders don’ see colour th’ way people do, “Bout th’ only colour we ‘ave in common is green, an’ th’ lights weren’t green.”

  “I asked if she saw anythin’ about tha’ was the same colour. She pointed at a rock outcrop, an’ some mushrooms on a dead log, an’ th’ wing cases on a beetle on a nearby branch. Not one of them was the same colour as another. I tol’ her that, and she jus’ shrugged.”

  Harry looked up from his note-taking. “Acromantulae shrug?”

  “Aragog learned that from me, I think, an’ the rest picked it up from him.” Hagrid chortled. “Harry, y’ve never seen anything like it. It starts at the firs’ shoulder on one side of their head an’ goes roun’ t’ th’ other. Circles their body like a Mexican Wave in a stadium!”

  “I could tell tha’ was all I would get from her. On m’ way out o’ th’ Forest, I went back to her old spot, an’ me an’ th’ pups had a good kek about. Nowt fer nowt. The pups got uneasy when we got over by the old colony, bu’ they allus do.”

  Harry nodded. “Was that when you filed your first report?”

  “Nah. I weren’t that worried. I thought it might’uv been somethin’, natural or magic, puttin’ on a bit of a light show, an’ Arerag had imagined sommat. Y’know, Hinkypunks, or Foxfire or th’ like. I did decide to step up visits t’ th’ area. An’, jus’ two nights later...”

  “Spiders again?” asked Harry.

  “Nah. This time it was Bowtruckles.” Hagrid bent forward in his oversized rocking chair, and put his elbows on his knees. “Harry, ye know how sneaky an’ private they are. I ain’ never even seen a Bowtruckle unles’ I was on purpose lookin’ for one.”

  “An’ they was ever’where. Scurryin’ along right in the open. Mad as wet hens, the lot of them, actual fightin’ each other, two, three at a time. Looked like it was over good wand wood trees. And that’s another thing they almos’ never do. When they first come mature, they go lookin’ for a tree of their own, but it’s allus an unoccupied tree. Once they settle in, well, that is their tree, an’ woe betide anythin’ that tries to harm it.”

  This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

  Hagrid’s hand came up and stroked his bushy black beard. “Th’ one time before I ever seen two fightin’, I was huntin’ some for a class. I found two going at each other over a tree. ‘T’weren’t hard to figure. Right nearby, a tree had been struck by lightnin’. I don’ know how th’ Bowtruckle survived. These two was that caught up that I snagged ‘em both. After the class, I released one at th’ original tree. Me an’ th’ other searched out a empty tree, which suited it fine.”

  “This time though, it was all over the place. From one tree, I could see another just across the grove where the same thin’ was happenin’, an’ pas’ that, a third.

  Me an’ th’ pups started walking from one to th’ next, not interferin’ like, ‘specially atter Junior got a cut on his muzzle from gettin' too close.”

  “In ‘bout a mile or so, I realized what I was doin’, I was circlin’ th’ ol’ spider territory. And while I was thinkin’ of that, came to me that Arerag had moved her, camp, I guess, in a direct line away from the old place.”

  “Tha’ were enough fer me. I headed for the old grove, an’ set the pups to scoutin’ about. An’ as I went along, somethin’ started naggin’ at my mind. A few hun’erd yards in, I had to stop, an’ I started lookin’ around, tryin’ to figger it out.”

  “Now, I ain’ never done what you might call a census o’ th’ Bowtruckles. I do try to keep in mind where th’ quality wand wood trees are. Mr. Ollivander is like to visit sometimes, needing a special wood for a hard-to-suit customer.”

  Hagrid frowned. “An’ from where I was standin’ at that time, I should’a been able to see a willow, a yew, an’ a pear tree. And I couldn’t. They was gone.”

  Harry blinked. “Some one cut them down? Why in the world would...?”

  “No, Harry,” Hagrid shook his head slowly. “They was gone. No stumps. No big holes in th’ ground. Th’ root ball on tha’ yew alone would’a bin forty, fifty feet across. An’ no hole had bin filled back in, neither. The undergrowth was perfec’ly normal, diff’rent sizes and ages of shrub and scrub.”

  The big gamekeeper looked over from under his bushy eyebrows, “Harry, I kin understan’ making somethin’ Disappear. But how kin y’ make something never have bin?”

  ***

  “So that was your first report.” Harry stated. Hagrid nodded.

  “I right got the heebie-jeebies, I did,” he said. “It was comin’ on t’ dark by then. I had meant t’ spen’ th’ night in th’ Forest, see if I c’d figger out wha’ Arerag saw. Put the stoppers on tha’ idea.” He looked a little shame-faced. “See, now, I’m not afraid of anythin’ in the Forest...”

  Harry interrupted, “...but those trees weren’t in the Forest anymore. Hagrid, don’t be foolish. Getting away from something you don’t understand is the smart move. Retreat, make a plan, then approach cautiously.”

  “Di’n’t even have m’ crossbow,” Hagrid muttered. “Anyway, I di’n’t just up and run, either. I checked the spots the other two trees should’a bin. Nothin’ different about th’ willow’s place. But, when Direfang was sniffing around where the pear tree should’a bin, he scratched up this.”

  He produced a withered, wizened piece of nothing in particular from one of his vast pockets, and handed it over. Harry turned it in his hand.

  “That there is a fruit fall pear, probably las’ year’s crop. It was further out than would be normal for a fruit fall. Probably picked up by a bird, then dropped in the rock outcroppin’ where Direfang found it.”

  “Did he, now?” Harry scratched the massive head that had been in his lap ever since he sat down, (he had been using it as a lap desk). “That was some good work, buddy!”

  “Yeh,” Hagrid said. “He likes him a piece of fruit, time t’ time.”

  “Well, that’s a shame.” Harry grinned as he reached into the dimensional pocket inside his outer robes. “Because all I have is this.” He pulled out a full-sized, bone-in joint of beef, cooked just enough to keep the juices from dripping.

  Direfang’s head came up, and he stared at the joint wide-eyed. Then he looked pleadingly to Hagrid, who nodded, grinning through his beard.

  Direfang carefully took the roast, his massive jaws taking no notice of the size, (as big around as Harry’s thigh). He then walked over to his spot by the fireplace, set the roast down and set one paw on it. He started licking the treat in a very anticipatory way.

  Fang Jr. and Sweetfang were suddenly sitting bolt upright on their haunches,(which would have made them quite a bit taller than James, if he had been present). They looked at Direfang. Then they looked at Harry, somehow managing to convey that they were not angry, just terribly, terribly hurt.

  Harry laughed out loud. “Don’t you give me that look! You know me better than that!” Two more joints came out of the pocket. The dogs looked to Hagrid as well, and upon getting the go-ahead, came across the room to receive their treats as well. They were displaying the solemn dignity that only a well-trained 300+ pound dog can show. Sweetfang unbent enough to nuzzle Harry’s neck before taking the roast.

  Harry thought back to the original Fang, whose idea of taking a treat gracefully was not drawing blood. Gods help any garment covering your arm, though. Looking over at Hagrid, he could tell similar memories were going through his mind. They smiled at each other.