The morning of Sunday, March 1st dawned clear and sunny, if a little chilly. Harry awoke before Ron, slid out of bed, and quietly placed his present, along with the one Hermione had given him the night before, at the foot of Ron’s bed. He noticed another parcel was already nestled on top of the covers. Harry spared a moment to wonder who might have placed it there before climbing back under the warm covers and feigning sleep until Ron awoke.
Harry’s sleepy reverie was ripped apart by a piercing shriek. He sat up, banging his head on the headboard as he went.
“Bloody hell, Ron! Is my present really that awful?” Harry rubbed his sore head and turned to look at his friend. Ron was sitting, rigid and shaking, on his bed. His eyes were wide with absolute terror and his freckles stood out in stark relief against his ghostly pale skin. “Ron,” Harry said again, “What is it?” He slowly stood up and approached Ron’s bed.
Ron raised his arm and pointed a shaking finger at the end of his bed. Harry’s eyes wandered over the ripped wrapping paper, mounds of Honeyduke’s chocolate, and a book that was obviously from Hermione, to rest on a small, fuzzy blob, perched atop a bag labeled “ZONKO’S”. Upon further inspection, Harry realized the thing was a brown, stuffed spider, and not a mutated, eight-legged niffler.
Harry let out a laugh and pointed out, “Ron, it’s not real. You know that right?” He stretched out a hand to pick it up but was stopped by Ron’s visor-like grip on his wrist.
“Don’t touch it,” the redhead whispered warningly, his voice hoarse.
Harry shook his head and peeled Ron’s fingers from his wrist. “Come off it, Ron. It’s not real. It’s a toy!” The tips of his fingers had barely even brushed the fuzz on the spider’s head before its many eyes snapped open. Harry leaped backwards, falling onto his bed, holding his hand as if he’d been bitten.
“Hi!” the spider chirped cheerily in an atrocious American accent. “My name is Spider and I wanna be your pal!” It did a little dance before settling down to blink at the two boys.
“See!” Ron whispered accusatorily. “I told you!”
“What is it?” Harry whispered back.
“I’m Spider!” the thing chirped again, seemingly in response to Harry’s question.
“Shut up,” Harry told it offhandedly. “D’you think it’s from Malfoy?” he asked Ron.
“No,” Ron shook his head. Having clamed down somewhat he slowly stood up and joined Harry on his bed. “I bet I know who it’s from.”
They found Fred and George in Great Hall, stuffing their faces with breakfast. Not noticing the angry expression on his brother’s face, Fred reached out and clapped Ron on the shoulder.
“Happy Natal Day, little bro! How’s the haul?”
“Yeah, get anything good this year?” George added around a kipper.
“You should know,” Ron snapped. “Thought it’d be funny, did you? Well it bloody well isn’t!”
“Whoa, slow down there, Ronniekins. What’s got you channeling mum?” Fred asked. Both he and George looked confused.
“Stop playing stupid! You know what I’m talking about!” Ron roared.
“Actually, for once in my life I am speaking the utter and complete truth when I tell you that we don’t know what you’re talking about.” George reached out and pulled Ron into a seat beside him. Harry remained standing, arms crossed, not ready to believe the twins.
“Now, then, start from the beginning,” Fred commanded. Ron obliged the twins and when he was finished, neither looked particularly happy.
“This isn’t right,” Fred said, glowering into his pumpkin juice. “No one should be playing jokes like that in our territory.”
“You sound like a dog, Fred,” Hermione said, approaching the group from behind Harry. “Hello, Harry! Happy birthday, Ron!”
“Not really,” Ron muttered. At Hermione’s questioning look, Ron explained the morning’s incident once more.
“That’s a very spiteful thing to do. Are you sure Malfoy isn’t behind it?” Hermione asked, placing her ever-present armful of books on the table.
“No idea. But then again, how would he have gotten into the dormitories anyway? It was already there when I woke up this morning, before you, Ron, and it definitely wasn’t there when we went to bed last night,” Harry mused. “None of it makes any sense.”
“Hi!” came a chipper voice down by their feet. “Ooh! More people means more friends!”
Ron shrieked and leapt onto the table. He peered down at Harry’s feet only to see the shining eyes of a small, furry something. “How the bloody hell did you get out?!” he shouted.
“I followed this nice lady! Isn’t she nice!” Spider beamed up at them, like a small puppy expecting a treat, albeit a puppy with eight legs.
“Oh! But he’s so adorable!” Hermione crooned. “The way you described him it sounded like he was some eight-legged monster who tried to gnaw your arm off.” She bent down and pet Spider on the head. To Harry and Ron’s disgust it began to purr.
“It is weird looking,” Fred agreed.
“You’d never know it was alive until it points those beady little eyes at you,” George added.
“It’s evil!” Ron insisted. He had become pale again and his voice was cracking nervously. “It’s just waiting for the right opportunity to bite your head off!”
“Oh, don’t be silly, Ron. He’s harmless.” Hermione picked Spider up and held it out towards Ron who backed away, upsetting George’s pumpkin juice and placing a hand in some fried eggs. “Aren’t you harmless. You wouldn’t hurt a fly. You’re just too adorable!”
“I think she might have to rethink that bit about the flies. Spiders live off bugs,” Fred whispered to Harry and George.
“I’m going to keep him!” Hermione exclaimed.
“No! No way are you keeping that “ that thing in the same House as me! It’s “ it’s illegal!” he insisted, grasping for some concrete reason why she couldn’t have it. “You’re only allowed an owl, toad, or cat!”
Hermione looked at Ron with exasperated contempt. “Ron, you’re terrible at trying to prove a point. You’ve forgotten one thing: you have a rat!”
“Oh yeah?” Ron glared at her. “Well, it was given to me, so you’ve no bloody right to come waltzing in and steal it!”
“Don’t be such a prat, Ron! You don’t even want him! What were you going to do with him anyway? Feed him to the giant squid?”
While Ron was still spluttering for a suitably insulting retort, Harry interrupted their fight. “Er, both of you are forgetting one little thing. We still don’t even know who gave it to you, Ron.”
Hermione sighed and sat in Ron’s vacant seat. “And there’s really know way we can figure it out, is there?” She looked around the little group. Ron crossed his arms and Harry just shrugged. There was no way. As long as the spider wasn’t really evil, as Ron seemed to think, they’d just have to live with the mystery.
Their pensive silence was interrupted by a small squeak. “I’m hungry!” the spider announced. It never seemed to state anything normally, always placing vocal exclamation points after every sentence. “Does anyone have any flies?!”
Harry sighed.
The day stretched on into eternity. Ron had followed Hermione back up to the dormitories where he oversaw the locking up of Spider in Harry’s trunk. Ron didn’t even want to think about having it crawling around in his things, so Harry had graciously offered his trunk space for his friend’s peace of mind.
The rest of the day was spent putting off homework and musing over who could’ve possibly placed the spider on Ron’s bed in the middle of the night. They had gone over all the obvious choices, the whole House of Slytherin being the main suspect, and yet they still came up blank.
“None of the other Houses could’ve possibly gotten into our common room, much less our dormitories!” Ron said, exasperated, for the umpteenth time that day. He flopped down against a tree on the shore of the lake. Harry and Hermione joined him, the latter busily working on her potions assignment due the next day.
“So it’s got to be someone in Gryffindor,” Harry stated. “But who?”
“The teachers probably have access to all the Houses, you know,” Hermione added offhand.
Ron snapped his fingers triumphantly. “Snape! That’s who did it! He’s always had it in for the whole lot of us.”
“Oh, come on, Ron. Why would Snape do such a juvenile thing as give you a spider for your birthday? As an adult you’d think he’s beyond that sort of thing,” Hermione pointed out.
“Well then who?” Ron asked, throwing up his hands in defeat.
“Dunno…” Harry supplied helpfully. “Not Dumbledore, that’s for sure, nor McGonagall.”
“No, definitely not,” Ron agreed. “Who did it?!” He banged his head against the trunk of the tree.
“Why don’t you ask me!” a familiar voice asked excitedly. “I could tell you!”
“Gah!!” Ron leaped to his feet and jumped back. “How do you keep getting out?!”
“There are so many nice people here!” The spider danced and then scuttled over to Hermione. “Like you! You’re so swell!”
“Oh, you’re so adorable!” Hermione squealed. She put aside her quill and parchment and picked up Spider, nuzzling his mandibles.
“See it is evil! It’s turning her into a girl!” Ron protested.
“And is that a bad thing, Ronald Weasley?” Hermione asked cuttingly, glaring at the redhead.
Harry ignored the two and turned to Spider. “You said we should ask you who gave you away. Do you know?”
“Yes, sir!” Spider wiggled in Hermione’s grasp enthusiastically.
“Well then, who?” Harry asked, impatient.
“He was tall! And furry! Like me! And he only had two eyes and legs! And he was large! Did I help you?!” Spider grinned hopefully at the two boys.
“Tall, large, furry… Definitely not Malfoy or Snape,” Harry reiterated.
“Hagrid.” Ron stated, his hands balled into fists.
“HAGRID!” Ron yelled. He banged on the gamekeeper’s door with his fists. “Open up the bloody door!”
The door was suddenly jerked open to reveal a bleary-eyed Hagrid, one hand rubbing sleep from his eyes. “Wha’? Ron, ‘Arry, Hermione? Wha’ is it?”
“It’s my birthday!” Ron said forcefully.
“Oh yea’! Happy birthday, Ron! Didja like yer present?” Hagrid beckoned them in with a large hand.
Ron, however, stood there, his mouth gaping open and round. “Did I ”? Did I like ”?” he stuttered incoherently.
“Er, Hagrid,” Hermione began tentatively, as she and the others entered his hut. “Ron has this, er, thing about spiders. You see, he doesn’t really, er ”“
“Spiders? Who said anythin’ abou’ spiders? Sit down. Tea?”
“Er, yeah, okay,” Harry held out his hand to receive a cupful. The others did likewise. “So, you didn’t give Ron a small, fuzzy, talking spider for his birthday then?” Harry asked.
“No! I know ‘ow ‘e is abou’ spiders. Wha’ kinda person do yeh think I am?” Hagrid shook his head. “So are yeh sayin’ you didn’ get my gift? Now tha’s strange…” He stood up and began rummaging around in cupboards. “Aha! Here it is! No wonder yeh didn’ get it! I had it here all along! Here yeh go, Ron. And happy birthday.” He slid a small parcel across the table to Ron who took it hesitantly. “Go on, open it!”
Ron did so to reveal a small chunk of what looked like concrete. “Er, thank you, Hagrid. Really, I, er, don’t really know what to say…”
“Ah, don’ worry. My treacle is easy enough ta make any’ow and I know ‘ow yeh like it so much.”
“Yeah, really… love it…” Ron said faintly, still bewildered by this strange turn of events.
“Well, thank you, Hagrid for the tea, but we all have a lot of homework to do, so…” Hermione stood up and smiled.
“Oh yeah, don’ want ta keep yeh from yer school work. ‘Ave a nice day, then.”
“You too, Hagrid,” Harry called out as they left his hut and made their way back to the castle.
Suddenly Ron asked, “Where did we put the little demon?”
“You mean Spider? We left him by the tree,” Hermione answered.
“I hope it’s still there. I don’t like not knowing where it is. It’s creepy, having that thing crawling around the grounds and castle.” Ron shuddered.
“Who’s creepy?!” Spider asked.
“Bloody hell!” Ron roared. “Hermione!”
Hermione sighed, bent down, and picked up Spider. “You have to stop just showing up like that, Spider.”
“Okay! I’m sorry!” Spider beamed not the least bit apologetically at Ron. “Where are we going?!”
“To hell…” Ron mumbled depressively. “Oh, wait we’re already there.”
“Spider,” Harry began, “you said the man who gave you to Ron was tall, large, and furry. Are you sure?”
“Nope! That’s not the person who gave me to him! That’s the person who gave me to her!” Spider wiggled enthusiastically in the direction of an approaching person.
“Ginny?!” Ron exclaimed incredulously. “Did you give me this thing?”
Ron’s younger sister smiled mischievously. “Took you long enough.” She laughed, a delighted, yet slightly maniacal gleam, in her eyes. “Happy birthday, my dear brother, happy birthday.”