The Explanation You Want

Baruk remained silent for a long time, opening and closing its chelicerae a few times without making a sound.

Its eight legs were slightly bent, and its center of gravity was lowered, as if it were recalling something, or perhaps trying to organize its thoughts and clarify the strange experience it had just had.

It emitted a series of low, slow clicking sounds, filled with uncertainty.

"Strange... when the light... shone on me... suddenly... buzzed in my head..." Baruk's voice was a bit higher-pitched Aragog's, but it also had the unique frictional texture of a spider.

"Then... I realized... why are the guys around me so slow? So clumsy? Aragog's father... he doesn't seem that great? I... I can do better... I'm better than them..."

It became increasingly confused as it spoke, its chelipeds rubbing together restlessly, and its forelegs tapping haphazardly on the ground.

"But that's not what I thought... I know it wasn't... but it was there... real..."

Baruk continued, "I... I can do better... I'm better than them all... I should be the leader..."

Aragog's massive head turned toward Regulus, its eight eyes filled with shock, confusion, and a deeper gravity.

It didn't understand the Magic, nor why a beam of light could make its most intelligent offspring suddenly feel like the best in the world.

But it could tell that Baruk shouldn't have acted this way; had this little wizard tampered with Baruk's mind?

Regulus ignored Aragog and looked at Baruk.

Do you still feel that way now?

Baruk shook his body violently, all eight legs twitching simultaneously, the bristles on his carapace rising and falling like a dog shaking off water.

"It's gone... like... having a strange dream... and now I'm awake..."

Regulus nodded in satisfaction, put away his wand, and stepped forward to pat Baruk's outstretched foreleg.

That leg was thicker than his arm, and its carapace was cool and smooth, like touching a black stone that had been washed by the sea for a long time.

He said, "Thank you."

Baruk was too tall, so it lowered its head so that Regulus could pat its back.

The spider's carapace is covered with fine bristles, which feel like a stiff brush to the touch.

There is a shallow groove in the center of the carapace, which extends from the head to the abdomen. The inner carapace is darker and almost bottomless.

Regulus clapped twice.

Baruk let out a light, crisp thud, as if in response; the sound was short and clear, unlike any of the previous thuds.

But a question popped into his mind.

Spiders can dream?

Is dreaming a privilege of all intelligent beings?

What about the Bowtruckle? Does that thing even have a brain?

Do they have dreams too?

Aragog remained silent for a long time, the light in his compound eyes flickering uncertainly.

Its chelipeds were closed, the barbs retracted into the inner wall, showing no intention of opening or closing, and its eight legs rested quietly on the ground, motionless.

Regulus looked at it, as if the more intelligent the spider, the better it could convey emotions with its eyes.

He glanced at the spiders around him; some had cloudy eyes, as if veiled in a layer of Grey Mist, making it impossible to see anything.

Some are hollow, with a cold light only predators possess.

The ability of someone like Baruk to discern curiosity, confusion, and bewilderment already demonstrates a high level of wisdom.

The others, mostly somewhere between somewhat intelligent and purely instinctive, had a pitifully monotonous light in their eyes.

Aragog slowly spoke, "Your experiment... was a success?"

Regulus nodded. "It's done."

Initial success, but less effective than expected. The arrogance lasted only ten seconds, and its intensity was only enough for Baruk to show off in front of its kind; it did not truly affect its judgment.

The duration was short and the impact was minimal; it needs to be changed.

The direction is clear, but the light needs to be more concentrated, not scattered, and aimed at the very center pair of compound eyes.

The emotional sample needs to be purer; arrogance mixed with contempt, and contempt mixed with disdain, is not pure enough.

The transmission process needs to be more efficient; three seconds is too long, and no one will give him three seconds in battle.

Baruk's feedback indicates that the underlying logic is correct.

Light can transmit emotions, and emotions can influence judgment; the brain will treat external thoughts as its own.

However, the current version is still far from being usable on humans.

You have to come, and you have to come often.

Baruk let out a light, crisp click, with a slightly rising tone at the end.

Regulus sensed a sense of merriment in the air.

This spider was quite happy. After being exposed to the light, its head buzzed for a moment, and it woke up thinking it could be the leader.

Even though I knew it was fake, that feeling was probably pretty exciting.

He looked at Aragog: "You said I owe you one. You can bring it up now, or you can think it over before you say it."

Aragog thought for a moment, his compound eyes gleaming.

The top pair of large eyes were half-open, the middle pairs were rapidly rotating, and the bottom pair stared motionless at Regulus.

We'll talk about it later.

Regulus nodded casually, "Fine, I'll take it."

However, as long as it's owed, it still needs to be kept quiet.

The spider must not reveal that he came here and the Magic he was experimenting with, not because it feared Aragog would deliberately leak it—it had no reason to do so.

But Hagrid would ask.

Hagrid visits Aragog every so often, bringing food and news.

Aragog couldn't lie to Hagrid; it could, but it didn't want to.

Those who have had such relationships know that you have to shut that crack.

"As for the explanation you want," Regulus said, "Why I think it's acceptable."

Aragog shook his spider head; eight eyes were watching him.

Regulus said nothing more.

The next moment, orange-red flames surged from his body, flowing across his arms, swirling around his shoulders, and dancing on his fingertips.

Each strand was firmly restrained by will, not a single bit spilling outwards.

The temperature was lowered to the minimum, but the air inside the nest still began to heat up. The spider silk trembled slightly in the heat, its edges curling, but it did not burn.

Aragog suddenly retreated, kicking backward with all eight legs at the same time, its claws carving eight deep grooves in the velvet ground.

Its massive body crashed into several thick spider silk pillars behind it, shaking the entire nest.

The dewdrops on the spiderweb were shaken off, falling in a rustling sound and turning into mist in the hot air.

Its fine bristles have curled tips and emit a burnt smell.

Flames, the thing the Acromantula fears most.

It didn't recognize the Fiendfyre, but it recognized fear—a fear that surged from its bloodline memories faster than any reason, taking direct control of its body.

The spider's legs were trembling, its pincers were shaking, and even its breathing was disordered.

But it didn't run away; wisdom triumphed over instinct once again.

The main reason was that it saw that the little wizard engulfed in flames hadn't even burned a single spider silk beneath his feet.

Not only did it not catch fire, but the edges didn't even curl up.

The spider silk lay quietly at his feet, as if the nearby flames had nothing to do with it.

The surrounding spiders scattered and fled, some of them panicking and crashing into each other, rolling into a ball, their pincers and legs tangled together and unable to be separated.

One of them crashed into a pillar, its face covered in spider silk, and desperately tried to scratch it away with its front legs.

Mosag huddled in the deepest part of the nest, its eight legs curled up and its belly pressed against the ground.

Its compound eyes were tightly closed, and its chelicerae were tucked under its head and thorax, a posture that suggested it was waiting to die.

Baruk didn't run away either. It took a few steps back to steady itself, its eight legs slightly bent and its center of gravity lowered.

His compound eyes were fixed on Regulus, but there was no fear in them, only some indescribable emotion flowing through them.

Then its gaze drifted towards Aragog for a moment, then quickly returned to its own.

Regulus noticed.

Even though the Magic has faded, the feeling that "I could have done better" may still linger in the spider's heart.

It was looking at Aragog, its father, as if confirming something, and at the same time denying something.

He turned his gaze away and looked at Aragog.

The orange-red flames retreated into his body and vanished completely in an instant.

Only the smell of burning and the rustling of spider silk remained in the nest. The hot air, still carrying the stench of burnt bristles, slowly rose.

Regulus said nothing more.

You need to explain, and this is the explanation.

There's no such thing as "I think I can do this," only "I can do this."

Aragog watched the flames disappear, hesitant to approach. He stood there, his eight legs slightly bent, his center of gravity low, and his chelipeds tightly folded.

At this moment, it couldn't even find anger; only fear remained.

Regulus's voice was flat, as if nothing had happened. "I hope that no creature other than a spider knows that I'm here tonight."

And this Magic is the same."

The young wizard's words carried no real threat, but if Aragog couldn't even understand that, then all his intelligence would be wasted.

Aragog's chelicerae opened and closed slightly, its voice still low, but all emotion was gone, as if burned away by the fire.

It simply said, "No."

Regulus nodded in satisfaction.

Aragog asked cautiously, "That condition?"

Regulus smiled. "I promised. Think it over before you speak."

He added, "I will be back."

Aragog was silent, then asked in a soft, reluctant voice, "Are you really not going to find the Centaur?"

Regulus didn't respond to that, but gave Baruk one last look. "Baruk is not bad."

After saying that, he disappeared.

Silence returned to the nest, and after a long while, Mosag approached Aragog.

She crawled very slowly, taking turns extending her eight legs forward, as if afraid of disturbing something.

Its chelicerae touched Aragog's forelegs, emitting a series of hissing sounds filled with worry and doubt.

Aragog gently touched Mosag with its chelicerae, its compound eyes still fixed on the direction Regulus had left. The top pair of large eyes were open, the middle pairs were slightly moving, and the bottom pair remained motionless.

Baruk made soft, intermittent noises, as if he were savoring the moment or talking to himself.

Its forelegs tapped lightly on the ground, a haphazard, rhythmic tapping.

Aragog glanced at it, then slowly lay back down on the velvet cushion and closed its largest pair of compound eyes.

The Forbidden Forest fell silent once more, save for the faint cries of owls in the distance and the ever-present mist in the hollow.