The candle in the library flickered, the light wavering before steadying again. Nothing had changed. The towers were still gray, the books still old, and the air still carried that mingled scent of parchment and book glue.
Hermione paused, tracing a circle on the tabletop with her finger.
"And that isn't even the worst part. You have to understand, Dumbledore was in the castle when the most recent incidents happened. His magical presence covers the entire castle. Those spiders can sense him. They can sense that... that blazing pressure, like the sun. They wouldn't sneak in while Dumbledore was home. They would only slip in—when someone was drawing Dumbledore's attention away, when someone was covering for them—and then they'd be gone before those petrified students were discovered."
Ron's mouth hung open. His eyes were wide, reflecting Hermione's pale, taut face—a face that looked as though she were desperately pulling herself back from the edge of some abyss.
"Covering for them? Hermione, you—you don't suspect Hagrid, do you?"
"I'm not sure." Her voice was so soft, it sounded as though she were talking to herself. "I only know that Hagrid can be... blindly optimistic. He trusts too much that 'his friends' would never hurt anyone. But he forgot that Aragog might not—but what about Aragog's children? Can Aragog control them? Even if he can, will he? Would he restrain his own descendants for the safety of humans?"
Hermione suddenly fell silent. She looked at Harry, and there was something in her brown eyes—not blame, not accusation, but a deeper hesitation.
Her gaze sent a chill down Harry's back. His fingers spread across the tabletop, then curled up, curled up, then spread again.
"You mean... Hagrid has been covering for them?"
"I mean," Hermione said slowly, as if she had chewed over