Title: Harry Potter the Wizard Acromantula

Author: Joshua

Disclaimer: JK Rowling has Harry, and whoever else from the books show up in these plots. I don't own either and I'm not making any money from all this, so don't bother suing me. I'm basing this on equal parts from the book and the movie, the Harry Potter book and movie that is. The book goes into more detail, but some parts of the movie are... better I think. In particular all the scenes involving Luna.

Summary: HBP-AU Not a Marvel Crossover...yet. Harry Potter has just received a great power and now he finds himself bearing a greater responsibility to use that power for good. But before that, he has to learn how to use it.



Harry Potter was running through the Forbidden Forest. Well, that wasn't entirely accurate, but then the typical metaphor of flying wasn't accurate either. He was running at a speed that only a unicorn or a centaur could keep up with, and he was jumping and leaping through the branches of the trees better than any monkey you'd care to name!

All while wearing a full body skintight silver/white suit made entirely of Acromantula silk.

He'd started his run from the unicorn herd and was within sight of the edge of the forest and Hagrid's hut. He'd begun less than fifteen minutes earlier.

Once he reached the edge of the forest, staying high in the trees, hidden by the leaves and branches all around him while he stuck to the side of the trunk, he waited. He took a moment to look over himself and was amazed at what he was now doing. It should have been impossible, even for magic, but here he was, in the best shape of his life and hanging to the side of a smooth tree trunk by his open palms and feet flush against it. There wasn't even a branch nearby, all of them either too thin to support his weight, or too far down for him to stand upon. And supposedly this was only the beginning.

"Bloody hell, this is insane," he said to himself, shaking his head. Looking around, he saw that nobody was out on the lawn and Hagrid wasn't in his hut either. The sun was only just beginning to set, twilight coming out as the shadows grew longer. Knowing he needed to get back in the castle, sooner rather than later, and preferably without anyone seeing him in his current getup, he knew he'd have to make a run for it. Once he was inside the outer walls, well, then he could decide about how he was going to actually get inside.

"Dinner should be starting soon," he kept up the commentary, if only to keep himself from panicking. "And if I'm not there, safe bet that Ron and Hermione, at the least, are going to raise an alarm or two. Which means I need to get inside, and to my trunk with my clothes in it before they start an actual search. Sure, Harry, just don't make it too hard on yourself!"

He sighed, "Well, I'm not getting anywhere just sitting here talking to myself. Let's do this!"

With that, Harry jumped as high, as far, and as hard as he could away from the tree he was rested against. If any had been watching, they would have been amazed to see the silver/white figure soar in an arc through the heavens that actually traversed the distance between the edge of the forest and the wall of Hogwarts Castle. Unfortunately, only just, so when Harry came down at a very high speed, his landing was going to be somewhere on the actual stone wall. For most people this would be a sign of sure death. For Harry, all he did was do a quick mid-air flip and he landed solidly against the wall with his feet and hands connecting first.

Rather than crashing and smashing himself in a rather wet sounding smack, his muscles coiled and absorbed the shock, while his bones didn't so much as bend under the compression of force and momentum meeting an immovable object. Rather he stuck there to the wall by his hands and feet and the rest of him never so much as grazed the stone structure.

Feeling a bit giddy from the adrenaline rush, Harry giggled softly and whispered, "Wicked!" He then started to crawl up the side of the wall, not feeling for handholds or footing at all and once he'd gotten more than halfway up it was clear he wouldn't need them either.

After he reached the top of the wall, he fit himself on top of one of the parapets, hands and feet together so his knees and shoulders stuck out at bit. With his head bowed, he was sure that from a distance he looked like one the castle's many gargoyles. Looking around, he saw that there were a few people still in the courtyards and quad areas, but they too were heading inside and from the lights that shone from the windows, he saw that the Great Hall was gearing up towards dinner.

"Need to move," he whispered quietly to himself. He knew he wasn't going to risk going inside, not dressed like this, which meant going outside. Given that he'd just proved to himself that he could do it, he wasn't worried about the how, just the where.

It took him a couple minutes, and jumping and crawling to different points along the wall, but he soon found what he was sure was Gryffindor Tower. Taking a running leap, he jumped as high as he could on it, but unfortunately he wasn't as close as he'd hoped he'd be to the window to his dorm room, the one for Sixth Years. Climbing, and making sure to avoid the windows at all costs, he moved as quickly as he could and only risked a look when he felt he was getting closer. He soon found out that boys and girls alternated floors, but of course nobody could know that given that they had separate stairwells.

When he caught sight of Hermione on her bed reading a rather large book, he knew he was close. Sure enough, the next floor up was the window to his dorm room. He glanced in quickly, then seeing no one he took a longer look and made sure before opening the window. Once he was inside, he knew he was safe, for the time being anyway. Not wanting to risk any more than he already had, Harry quickly grabbed a change of clothes and ran towards the showers. He stripped off the skintight clothing he'd transfigured out of a Acromantula silk cocoon, washed as quickly as he ever had, dried off even quicker and dressed before racing back to hide the silver/white suit at the bottom of his trunk.

The moment his trunk was closed, the door to the dorm opened and in walked his best friend, Ron Weasley. Harry did his best not to look guilty as the redhead yelled at him.

"Harry! Where've you been mate? Hermione and I have been looking all over for you? Did you just take a shower?" Ron asked.

"Uh, yeah," Harry shrugged, guessing his hair wasn't quite dry yet. He went ahead and finished getting dressed at a normal pace, though all he had left to put on were his socks, shoes and jacket.

"Did you leave your glasses in there too?" Ron said, "You look kinda funny without them."

Harry frowned and looked up, about to ask him what he was talking about. Then he realized he wasn't wearing his glasses, and hadn't pretty much since the Aragog's children had almost killed him earlier that day. They'd probably fallen off after he'd tripped and they'd cocooned him, but since he'd woken up with the unicorns, he'd honestly never noticed. He could see perfectly fine without his glasses. In fact, he glanced around the room, it seemed as though he could now see better than he ever could with them!

"Harry?" Ron prompted when his friend didn't answer.

"Let's go down to dinner, Ron," Harry distracted his friend. "I've had a long day."

"Uh... okay?" the redhead could only shrug and follow along.

At dinner down in the Great Hall, Ron 'warned' Hermione that Harry was in a 'mood', even while Harry was sat there next to them. Although Harry did have to admit he was somewhat grateful when his male friend advised his female friend to not ask him where he'd been or what he'd been doing all day. Unfortunately, that still left a large range of uncomfortable topics the curious brunette could ask about.

"Harry, where are your glasses?" Hermione asked.

Harry just shrugged, relieved that she asked the question right as he began to drink from his goblet. As such, he probably drunk more than he'd intended while struggling to come up with some plausible answer. Unfortunately, he came up empty. So, he decided to stall, and keep stalling until either he got an idea, or she stopped asking, whichever happened first.

"Sorry, what?" he asked as he finally took away the goblet.

"Your glasses? Where are they? How can you even see without them?" she reiterated.

"My glasses?" he adopted what he hoped was a confused expression on his face.

"Yes, your glasses!" she repeated.

"What about them?" he reached for another platter and refilled his goblet, just in case.

"Where are they?" she exclaimed.

He swallowed and took another long pull from his goblet. "Sorry, what?"

She narrowed her eyes and asked again, "Where are they?"

"Where's what?" he began to suspect that she might very well give up soon.

"Your glasses!" she screamed.

"What about them?" he asked again, a perfectly innocent expression on his face. Given that he was scrambling still to come up with something to tell them, he saw absolutely no humor in the current conversation, though everyone around them were hiding smiles and laughter as best they could.

"Where are your glasses?" Hermione asked more slowly.

He blinked and then finally decided to go with the honest truth. He shrugged and replied, "I don't know."

"Well, how can you even see without them? I happen to know you have a very high prescription!"

He just shrugged, and since he was currently devouring a chicken leg, he didn't bother answering. Now that he thought about it, he noticed that he was really hungry! He grabbed another platter and also pulled over the salad bowl. He didn't bother putting any on his plate, he just started eating right out of the bowl itself, pouring on dressing to every bite on the way to his mouth.

"Harry... uh," Hermione stopped herself before asking anything else, just watching Harry eat for a moment. It wasn't as disturbing as the open-mouthed napkin-free display across from her, but she'd never seen Harry eat so much. She soon amended that after he grabbed a fifth platter and a second salad bowl, one that was meant to feed the whole table. She'd never seen anyone eat so much in one sitting before!

"Harry, are you feeling all right?" she'd timed her question so she'd asked it by the time he swallowed his latest mouthful.

"Yeah, just... surprisingly hungry," he replied, grabbing another platter, this one filled with deserts. "Had a... trying day is all. Nothing to worry about, trust me." And then he was eating again.

At least he used a napkin once in a while and chewed with his mouth closed, she acknowledged to herself. But it was worrying. Had something happened to Harry during the day? Had somebody hit him with a curse to make him fat? Or worse, try to poison him?

"Are you sure?" she asked, worried.

"Mm-hmm," he answered as best he could with his mouth full of pie. Somehow he'd managed to get himself a sampler platter that contained at least one slice of every pie, cake, and tart that was offered for desert. And he was eating every last crumb.

"Maybe... maybe you should go to Madam Pomphrey after dinner," Hermione suggested, pushing away her own desert as her appetite disappeared in the face of Harry's. "I'm worried that something... well to be blunt about it, I'm worried that somebody cursed you."

Harry looked up and swallowed what he had without putting in anymore. "Just because I happen to be a little bit hungrier than normal?" he asked after wiping his mouth. He took another drink before saying anything more, but then after swallowing said to her, "Look, Hermione, I honestly have no clue where my glasses are. I lost them earlier today. And for everyone's information, actually no I don't need them any longer. I can't explain why. I look around and I'm actually seeing better than I ever did with my glasses. In fact, the only thing I'm even remotely worried about right now? Is what Malfoy is up to."

Hermione bit her lip and struggled not to roll her eyes. Ron had no such compulsions.

"Oh come off it mate," Ron griped after a rather loud belch. "Much as I hate Malfoy and would love to stick it to him, there's no way he's a Marked Death Eater on some secret mission for You-Know-Who!"

"And since when do Death Eaters care about age limits?" Harry argued, finishing his platter with surprising speed. He didn't get anything else after he'd finished.

"By the way, Harry, when are you going to order a new book for Potions?" Hermione questioned, thinking a change of subject was in order.

Unfortunately, she'd chosen the wrong subject. Harry let out a heavy sigh that might've sounded a bit like a soft growl, and crossed his arms defensively.

"When I have the time. After Quidditch trials are over. There's nothing wrong with that book, Hermione!" he argued, pretty much picking up where they'd left off.

"It's cheating!" she resumed her own stance.

"So some bloke doodled in his text book. Wouldn't be the first one. And just because he was smart enough to jot down some notes and corrections on one or two things doesn't make him a cheater. Nor me, for that matter!"

"I never said you were a cheater, which is why you should give it back and ask for another one!"

"It's only a second-hand book, nothing wrong with second-hand books!"

"It's not...!"

"Uh, guys?" Ron interrupted.

"What?" they both turned and snapped at their friend.

"Just drop it all right! Anyway, how did your first lesson with Dumbledore go?" he changed the subject to something he hoped would be more agreeable.

Harry frowned and let out a frustrated sigh. He then noticed the table was mostly cleared away by now. "Fine, but not here," he said and got up, leading them out of the Great Hall.

They went outside to avoid any wandering eyes, where normally Harry might have taken them up to the Gryffindor Common Room or someplace else more familiar, for some reason he felt... uncomfortable in the castle. Like he was being constantly watched. Once they were outside, he took them to a walkway off the side of the courtyard and he finally relaxed as he felt they were hidden enough now. He then told them, in detail, everything that had been part of Dumbledore's lesson. They were both just as outraged as he was, but Hermione quickly turned to the information itself and what it could mean.

"So, no cool spells, or new magic, or anything like that?" said Ron, disappointed.

Harry shook his head and said, "No. Nothing like that at all. I can probably expect all the other lessons to be the same too."

"Information about Voldemort's past?" clarified Hermione.

He nodded and agreed, "Most likely. But while not what we had in mind, this probably is just as useful. What is that old saying, Hermione? Know your enemy?"

Hermione nodded in acknowledgment and then quoted to the, "Know your enemy and know yourself, find naught in fear for 100 battles. Know yourself but not your enemy, find level of loss and victory. Know not thy enemy nor yourself, wallow in defeat every time. Sun Tzu."

"What does that mean?" Ron asked.

Harry held up his hand before Hermione could even try and then answered his friend, "How do you win in Quidditch Ron? Or chess?"

"Simple," the redhead shrugged, like it was obvious, "Strategy."

"What's strategy?" he was then asked.

"Well, it's planning out what to do at each stage of the game. Anticipating what your opponent is going to do, what moves you'll make, and what moves he'll make in response to your moves. Stuff like that," said Ron with a self-appreciating smile.

"So, how do you know what moves the other guy makes?" Harry pointed out.

"Oh well..." Ron's expression froze as the wheels started to turn. "Oh."

"I think he gets it," Harry grinned at his other best friend. She laughed silently and shook her head at the sheer absurdity of the entire conversation.

"Anyway, it's late, we should be getting back before curfew," Harry suddenly told them and then waited for them to lead the way. Once they were far enough away, he turned back, just for a second and looked down at his hands.

He had only just noticed whilst talking with them, but didn't dare do anything about it where they would see. The utensils he'd been using at dinner were stuck there to his wrists, and as he pulled them off, he couldn't help noticing they were absolutely covered in webs. Pulling them off him, he shook them free and left them where they fell and then turned to catch up. Whenever Ron and Hermione weren't looking, he was inspecting his wrists on all sides. He found both exactly what he'd feared and more than he'd expected.

He quickly hid his hands behind his back and covered his wrists with his sleeves as much as he could when he sensed that oppressive sense of being watched fall back over him. Once they were back in Gryffindor Tower, he risked it and took another look at his wrists. Sure enough, they were still here.

He didn't even know what they were, and yet he did at the same time. Instinctively, he knew they were special glands that would produce the same substance that could be made into webs. As in spider webs. And yet, looking at them, he had no idea how he knew that.

For starters, they looked like scars on his skin. Scars that just so happened to be shaped in web-like patterns, and that had sort of a—a flap of skin over it and when that flap was pulled back, as he found out the messy way, the fluid/webbing being held back by it was released all at once like some kind of spray. Thankfully he discovered that just moving his hand about and even making a fist wouldn't cause the flap to come open. But he did discover that there was a way that he could hold his hand and flex the muscles in his hand, wrist and arm that could pull the flap back, but not all the way. So it was more like a nozzle for the webbing that way.

In the privacy of his canopy bed, he discovered that thanks to those instinctual memories Aragog had talked about he could adjust whether the web shot out as a straight line, or as sort of a fully made web that could act like a net he supposed. Unfortunately, there were about a hundred other webbing techniques that Aragog had 'given' to him that he had no clue how to use. The web-line and web-net seemed to be all he could do with just him it would seem.

END Part 1 of 6