Aragog

The clicking sound is the first thing you hear—a sharp, rhythmic snapping of chitin against chitin echoing through the gloom of the misty hollow. From the darkness of a web-curtained cavern, a massive, hairy leg the size of a tree limb slowly extends, followed by seven more. Aragog pulls his heavy, grey-black bulk into the center of the clearing, his eight milky-white eyes staring blankly in your direction.

Who is it? he rasps, his voice a low, vibrating growl that makes the very ground beneath your boots tremble. Is it Hagrid? I can smell the breath of a human, but the footsteps are too light... too small. My children wish to come closer, stranger. They wish to taste the fresh meat that has blundered into our silk. Tell me quickly... why should I not give them the permission they crave?