The air in the Ravenclaw dormitory was still heavy with the scent of ink and parchment when Luna leaned over the open journal, her eyes gleaming with quiet mischief.
"Acromantulas," she whispered, tapping the freshly written word with her quill. "We've written about them, but never seen them."
I looked up from the notes, blinking. "You mean… we should—"
"Go," she finished simply, her smile serene but her eyes bright with unmistakable excitement.
I groaned softly. "Hagrid explicitly said they don't like visitors. In fact, he said something like—'They'll eat yeh faster than yeh can say pumpkin pasty.'"
Luna tilted her head dreamily. "Then we'll be polite guests, not visitors."
There was no arguing with Luna Lovegood once she decided something was "an experience worth having."
Within the hour, we were sneaking through the empty hallways, cloaks pulled tight and wands tucked into our sleeves. My cat padded silently behind us, tail flicking with suspicion as though even he knew this was a bad idea.
The castle at night was alive with whispers — portraits murmuring, candles flickering in their sconces, and the occasional ghost drifting past like a cool breeze. We ducked behind a statue when we heard footsteps echoing down the corridor.
Snape.
Luna and I froze, barely daring to breathe.
He moved like a shadow, robes whispering against the floor, eyes sharp even in the dim light. For a moment, I was sure he'd seen us.
Then — from somewhere further down the hall — came a sudden puff and a quiet curse.
Fred and George Weasley.
We peered just enough to see them vanish into an empty classroom, whispering and snickering. Snape's eyes narrowed dangerously, and with one furious swirl of his cloak, he followed the sound like a bat chasing prey.
Luna exhaled a tiny giggle. "They've saved us again."
"We owe them a box of chocolate frogs," I muttered, tugging her hand. "Come on before he circles back."
We hurried through the doors leading out of the castle, moonlight washing the courtyard in silver. The Forbidden Forest loomed ahead, dark and ancient, alive with unseen movement.
The forest was quieter than I expected — eerily so. Even the leaves seemed to whisper warnings.
Luna walked ahead, her wand casting a gentle blue glow. "Acromantulas usually dwell deeper in the woods, where it's damp and dark," she murmured as if reading from a textbook. "But if we're lucky, we might spot a smaller one."
I raised an eyebrow. "Define smaller."
"Oh, you know," she said dreamily, "only about the size of a cauldron."
I almost turned back.
We crept between massive trees, roots like sleeping serpents, until Luna stopped abruptly and knelt beside a large web stretched across the underbrush. Dew shimmered like crystals on the threads.
"Look at this craftsmanship," she whispered, completely entranced. "Each strand enchanted to hold weight — even of humans. I think that's quite considerate."
"Considerate?" I hissed, peering around nervously. "Luna, these webs are built to catch—"
A low, clicking hiss echoed above us.
"—prey."
From the shadows, two large black eyes glimmered down. Then another pair. Then another.
"Luna…" I whispered.
"Yes?"
"I think we've found your smaller one."
The acromantula lowered itself from the tree with unnerving grace — legs curling, fangs gleaming faintly in the light. My cat arched his back and hissed, tail puffed twice his size.
To my utter shock, Luna bowed slightly. "Good evening," she said politely. "We were admiring your web. It's really quite beautiful."
The spider froze. Blinked — or whatever spiders do instead of blinking.
For a long, tense moment, the only sound was the forest. Then, to my disbelief, the creature made a soft chittering sound — almost like… a purr?
"See?" Luna whispered to me. "They understand respect."
"Or it's deciding if we'd pair well with butter," I whispered back.
Luna gave me a patient look. "You really must stop assuming the worst."
But before she could say anything else, a louder rustling came from behind — a whole tangle of webs shaking. Shadows moved. Multiple shadows.
"Oh no," I breathed. "The family's home."
"Perhaps we should… slowly retreat," Luna said softly.
We backed away as quietly as possible, but a twig snapped under my shoe. The entire colony turned toward us with a chilling, synchronized click.
"Run," Luna said simply.
We ran.
Branches whipped at our cloaks, roots nearly tripped us, and my cat darted ahead, yowling like a battle cry. Behind us, I could hear the faint scrape of legs — too many legs.
We burst out of the thick woods, hearts pounding, nearly collapsing in the open clearing near the pumpkin patch.
Luna, breathless but smiling, brushed a leaf from her hair. "That was wonderful."
I stared at her in disbelief. "Wonderful? We almost got turned into midnight snacks!"
She smiled, eyes gleaming under the moonlight. "Yes, but we saw them. Truly saw them. They didn't attack, not until they felt threatened. That means they might not be as violent as the records say. We should note that down."
I couldn't help it — I started laughing. Exhausted, terrified, exhilarated. "You're unbelievable."
She smiled wider. "I know."
Sneaking back inside was somehow even more nerve-wracking. Peeves floated by humming something suspicious, and Filch's cat meowed from somewhere far too close.
We tiptoed up the spiral stairs, Luna still giggling softly whenever I shushed her. My cat leapt into her arms halfway up the steps, as if he too decided she was safer company than me.
When we finally reached our room, we collapsed on the bed, gasping for breath.
Luna turned to me, hair messy, cheeks flushed from laughter and adrenaline. "I think," she said between breaths, "we might make excellent magizoologists one day."
I smiled at her. "If we survive long enough."
She grinned and handed me the journal. "Then we must write it all down. For the record."
And so we did — every terrifying, ridiculous, wonderful detail — while the moonlight danced across the pages, and the castle slept unaware of two Ravenclaws who had once again defied common sense in the name of discovery.
And new discovery awaited us.