Catalyst

Chapter 23: Worlds together

During his time imprisoned in terran flesh, there were very few moments where Abathur could have described himself as happy. The moment he saw the boggart, and the moment he consumed it. The time his hands had ripped into the basilisk's flesh, exposing the essence within. Today was looking to be another one of those rare moments. Abathur had been waiting for this day for a very, very long time. For nearly a year he'd been spinning essence, learning magic, and evolving the Hive in preparation for this assault. And now, finally, everything had come together.

As he walked through the Forbidden Forest, sneaking past the domains of creatures who would have attacked without a second thought, his smile only grew wider. More prey, more essence. But they could wait for later; at the present, he had somewhere to be. He moved stealthily forward, accompanied only by the rustling of leaves, and the occasional insectoid buzz. Within him viruses, bacteria, toxins and acids, flowed within him, ready to be unleashed at a moment's notice. Even as he walked, he worked to further improve these weapons. Perfection was a moving goal, after all.

As the light shining through the leaves became more and more rare, the cover above and below was slowly becoming covered in more and more strands of silky web. Abathur could see spying spiders scurrying around him, disappearing into cracks and shadows when they felt his attention. The Hive followed, and ensured that these spies did not come back out.

It took only a few more minutes before the expansive web, home of the acromantulas, came into view. They were skittering through the web-covered branches, chittering as they bore witness to Abathur's silent march. With every step he took toward the web, more and more acromantulas poured out of the darkness. Soon enough, the largest of the horde emerged, peering through milky pupils at Abathur's own green eyes. Then, in a rasping voice, he spoke.

"What an interesting manling," Aragog said. "It is rare enough for one of your kind to be found in our hollow, but to return of your own will...you are truly an odd one. Tell me, what brings you back into our home?"

Abathur didn't respond, standing silently before the towering acromantula. If Aragog was expecting anything else, he did not show it.

"Nothing to say?" Aragog asked. "Very well. If it is your desire become a meal, then I will not deny my children your flesh."

With that, the acromantulas surged forward. On both sides of Abathur, an acromantula pounced forward, intent on sinking their fangs into his flesh. Two of them were but a foot away when Abathur acted.

Snick.

In a blur, two new limbs extended from Abathur's back; gray, spindly things, ending in thin, vicious blades. The scythe limbs impaled the two spiders through the top of their heads and continued down, pinning them to the ground. Only then did Abathur speak, with a deep, reverberating tone that could never have come from a human throat.

"Your weakness, unacceptable. Will correct."

(Transition)

"Ah, Albus," Ollivander peered at his visitor from behind thick lenses. "This is a pleasant surprise."

Dumbledore made his way through the dust of Ollivander's wand shop to where the old wandmaker stood. "Garrick, it is good to see you again. I hope you don't mind me popping in."

"Not at all, not at all," Ollivander waved dismissively. "It's always a pleasure to have visitors, especially this time of year. Now, what can I do for you, Albus?"

"Unfortunately, this is a little more than a social call," Dumbledore said. "I read that you were friends with the Jaren family. I was wondering what you could tell me about them."

The change in Ollivander was sudden. His faint smile disappeared. He began fiddling with his wand absentmindedly, and his eyes darted rapidly around the shop, refusing to look Dumbledore in the eyes. "And where, exactly, did you read that?"