Things couldn't have been worse. Filch took them down to Professor McGonagall's study on the first floor, where they sat and waited without saying a word to each other. Hermione was trembling. Excuses, alibis, and wild cover- up stories chased each other around Heather's brain, each more feeble than the last. She couldn't see how they were going to get out of trouble this time.

There was no reason on earth that Professor McGonagall would accept for their being out of bed and creeping around the school in the dead of night, let alone being up the tallest astronomy tower, which was out-of-bounds except for classes. Add Norbert and the invisibility cloak, and they might as well be packing their bags already. Had Heather thought that things couldn't have been worse? She was wrong.

When Professor McGonagall appeared, she was leading Neville.

"Heather!" Neville burst out, the moment he saw the other two. "I was trying to find you to warn you, I heard Malfoy saying he was going to catch you, he said you had a drag—"

Heather shook her head violently to shut Neville up, but Professor McGonagall had seen. She looked more likely to breathe fire than Norbert as she towered over the three of them.

"I would never have believed it of any of you. Mr. Filch says you were up in the astronomy tower. It's one o'clock in the morning. Explain yourselves."

It was the first time Hermione had ever failed to answer a teacher's question. She was staring at her slippers, as still as a statue. Heather was normally good at talking herself out of situations like this but at the moment he had nothing.

"I think I've got a good idea of what's been going on," said Professor McGonagall. "It doesn't take a genius to work it out. You fed Draco Malfoy some cock-and-bull story about a dragon, trying to get him out of bed and into trouble. I've already caught him. I suppose you think it's funny that Longbottom here heard the story and believed it, too?"

Admittedly the first part of the professor's explanation may have been something they would have done but not the second part. Heather caught Neville's eye and tried to tell him without words that this wasn't true, because Neville was looking stunned and hurt. Poor, blundering Neville — Heather knew what it must have cost him to try and find them in the dark, to warn them.

"I'm disgusted," said Professor McGonagall. "Four students out of bed in one night! I've never heard of such a thing before! You, Miss Granger, I thought you had more sense. As for you, Ms. Potter, I thought Gryffindor meant more to you than this. All three of you will receive detentions — yes, you too, Mr. Longbottom, nothing gives you the right to walk around school at night, especially these days, it's very dangerous — and fifty points will be taken from Gryffindor."

"Fifty?" Heather gasped — they would lose the lead, the lead she'd won in the last Quidditch match. True she didn't care about the House Cup as much as most of the students did but this was ridiculous. This could not the first time students had been caught out of bed; she knew this for a fact. Hello? This was a school full of hormonal teenagers! Finding students in the middle of undress must not be an uncommon thing.

"Fifty points each," said Professor McGonagall, breathing heavily through her long, pointed nose.

"Professor — please —"

"You can't —"

"Don't tell me what I can and can't do, Granger. Now get back to bed, all of you. I've never been more ashamed of Gryffindor students."

At first a few images of strangling McGonagall flashed through her head. A hundred and fifty points lost. That put Gryffindor in last place. In one night, they'd ruined any chance Gryffindor had had for the house cup.

Heather didn't sleep all night. She could hear Hermione sobbing into her pillow for what seemed like hours. Heather couldn't think of anything to say to comfort her. She knew Hermione, like herself, was dreading the dawn. What would happen when the rest of Gryffindor found out what they'd done? This was going to be a long rest of the year.

At first, Gryffindors passing the giant hourglasses that recorded the house points the next day thought there'd been a mistake. How could they suddenly have a hundred and fifty points fewer than yesterday? And then the story started to spread: Heather Potter, the famous Heather Potter, their hero of two Quidditch matches, had lost them all those points, her and a couple of other stupid first years.

From being one of the most popular and admired people at the school, Heather was suddenly the most hated. Even Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs turned on her, because everyone had been longing to see Slytherin lose the house cup. Everywhere Heather went, people pointed and lowered their voices as they insulted her. They probably would have been more vocal if her fangs weren't always in sight.

Slytherins, on the other hand, clapped as her walked past them, whistling and cheering, "Thanks Potter, we owe you one!" One of the may or may not have been bitten, but Heather got away with it. After that, Slytherins were a little more cautious, except for Malfoy of course. She had half the mind to drug him, take him out to the Forbidden Forest, kill him, and then burry his remains.

Only Ron stood by her.

"They'll all forget this in a few weeks. Fred and George have lost loads of points in all the time they've been here, and people still like them."

"They've never lost a hundred and fifty points in one go, though, have they?" said Heather agitatedly.

"Well — no," Ron admitted.

Even Quidditch had lost its fun. The rest of the team wouldn't speak to Heather during practice, and if they had to speak about her, they called her "the Seeker." Heather couldn't believe how obsessed they were with a stupid House Cup. (Seriously though, at my school if there is a competition where all you get is a trophy and a Congrats and no doughnuts, then barley anybody takes it seriously. Unless they hand out slips in class that same Name Here: and Teacher's Name Here: no one participates.)

Hermione and Neville were suffering, too. They didn't have as bad a time as Heather, because they weren't as well known, but nobody would speak to them, either. Hermione had stopped drawing attention to herself in class, keeping her head down and working in silence. Heather was almost glad that the exams weren't far away. All the studying she had to do kept her mind off how frustrated she was. No more extra adventures for a while.

She, Ron, and Hermione kept to themselves, working late into the night, trying to remember the ingredients in complicated potions, learn charms and spells by heart, memorize the dates of magical discoveries and goblin rebellions… Then, about a week before the exams were due to start, Heather's new resolution not to interfere in anything that didn't concern her was put to an unexpected test. Walking back from the library on her own one afternoon, she heard somebody whimpering from a classroom up ahead. As she drew closer, she heard Quirrell's voice.

"No — no — not again, please —"

It sounded as though someone was threatening him.

Heather moved closer.

"All right — all right —" she heard Quirrell sob.

Next second, Quirrell came hurrying out of the classroom straightening his turban. He was pale and looked as though he was about to cry. He strode out of sight; Heather didn't think Quirrell had even noticed her. She waited until Quirrell's footsteps had disappeared, then peered into the classroom. It was empty, but a door stood ajar at the other end. Heather was halfway toward it before she remembered what she'd promised herself about not meddling. Heather went back to the library, where Hermione was testing Ron on Astronomy. Heather told them what she'd heard.

"Snape's done it, then!" said Ron. "If Quirrell's told him how to break his Anti-Dark Force spell —"

"There's still Fluffy, though," said Hermione.

"Maybe Snape's found out how to get past him without asking Hagrid," said Ron, looking up at the thousands of books surrounding them. "I bet there's a book somewhere in here telling you how to get past a giant three-headed dog. So what do we do, Heather?"

The light of adventure was kindling again in Ron's eyes, but Hermione answered before Heather could.

"Go to Dumbledore. That's what we should have done ages ago. If we try anything ourselves we'll be thrown out for sure."

"But you've got no proof!" said Heather. "Quirrell's too scared to back you up. If he's the thief then Snape's only got to say he doesn't know how the troll got in at Halloween and that he was nowhere near the third floor — who do you think they'll believe, him or you? It's not exactly a secret you hate him, Dumbledore'll think you made it up to get him sacked. Filch wouldn't help you if his life depended on it, he's too friendly with Snape, and the more students get thrown out, the better, he'll think. And don't forget, you're not supposed to know about the Stone or Fluffy. That'll take a lot of explaining."

Hermione looked convinced, but Ron didn't.

"If we just do a bit of poking around —"

"No," said Heather flatly, "we've done enough poking around. Besides, I just want to get this stupid work done so I can go eat my catch."

She pulled a map of Jupiter toward her and started to learn the names of its moons.

The following morning, notes were delivered to Heather, Hermione, and Neville at the breakfast table. They were all the same:

Your detention will take place at eleven o'clock tonight.

Meet Mr. Filch in the entrance hall.

Professor McGonagall

Heather had forgotten they still had detentions to do in the furor over the points they'd lost. She half expected Hermione to complain that this was a whole night of studying lost, but she didn't say a word. Like Heather, she felt they deserved what they'd got. Except for the 150pts. That was ridiculous. At eleven o'clock that night, they said good-bye to Ron in the common room and went down to the entrance hall with Neville. Filch was already there — and so was Malfoy. Heather had also forgotten that Malfoy had gotten a detention, too.

"Follow me," said Filch, lighting a lamp and leading them outside.

"I bet you'll think twice about breaking a school rule again, won't you, eh?" he said, leering at them. Heather rolled her eyes. "Oh yes…hard work and pain are the best teachers if you ask me…It's just a pity they let the old punishments die out…hang you by your wrists from the ceiling for a few days, I've got the chains still in my office, keep 'em well oiled in case they're ever needed… Right, off we go, and don't think of running off, now, it'll be worse for you if you do."

They marched off across the dark grounds. Neville kept sniffing. Heather wondered what their punishment was going to be. It must be something really horrible, or Filch wouldn't be sounding so delighted. Then again, how bad could it be? This was still a school and it still had regulations, such as not hanging students by their toes. The moon was bright, but clouds scudding across it kept throwing them into darkness. Ahead, Heather could see the lighted windows of Hagrid's hut. Then they heard a distant shout.

"Is that you, Filch? Hurry up, I want ter get started."

Heather's heart rose; if they were going to be working with Hagrid it wouldn't be so bad. They were probably going to do some manual labor, something Heather was experienced in.

Her relief must have showed in her face, because Filch said, "I suppose you think you'll be enjoying yourself with that oaf? Well, think again, girl — it's into the forest you're going and I'm much mistaken if you'll all come out in one piece."

Into the forest? Even better, she did that all the time anyway. Perhaps she could catch a rabbit or something. At this, Neville let out a little moan, and Malfoy stopped dead in his tracks.

"The forest?" he repeated, and he didn't sound quite as cool as usual. "We can't go in there at night — there's all sorts of things in there — werewolves, I heard."

Neville clutched the sleeve of Heather's robe and made a choking noise. She leaned down and whispered to Neville. "Don't worry, been in there a million times and the closest thing to a werewolf is me." That seemed to make Neville feel better.

"That's your problem, isn't it?" said Filch, his voice cracking with glee. "Should've thought of them werewolves before you got in trouble, shouldn't you?"

Hagrid came striding toward them out of the dark, Fang at his heel. He was carrying his large crossbow, and a quiver of arrows hung over his shoulder.

"Abou' time," he said. "I bin waitin' fer half an hour already. All right, Heather, Hermione?"

"I wouldn't be too friendly to them, Hagrid," said Filch coldly, "they're here to be punished, after all."

"That's why yer late, is it?" said Hagrid, frowning at Filch. "Bin lecturin' them, eh? 'Snot your place ter do that. Yeh've done yer bit, I'll take over from here."

"I'll be back at dawn," said Filch, "for what's left of them," he added nastily, and he turned and started back toward the castle, his lamp bobbing away in the darkness.

Heather looked over and saw the skeleton of the male moose she had taken down. She noticed the skull was missing. "Hey Hagrid, where's the skull?"

"Mounted it on my wall. Beau'iful catch." Hagrid said.

"Thanks." She smiled. She saw the Malfoy was starting to look paler. "Oh, there's a little bit of meat left." Heather said. She knelt down and picked off a little piece of meat on the spine. Heather popped into her mouth and ate it.

Malfoy now turned to Hagrid.

"I'm not going in that forest," he said, and Heather was pleased to hear the note of panic in his voice. She snickered behind her hand.

"Yeh are if yeh want ter stay at Hogwarts," said Hagrid fiercely. "Yeh've done wrong an' now yeh've got ter pay fer it."

"But this is servant stuff; it's not for students to do. I thought we'd be copying lines or something, if my father knew I was doing this, he'd—"

"—tell yer that's how it is at Hogwarts," Hagrid growled.

"Copyin' lines! What good's that ter anyone? Yeh'll do summat useful or yeh'll get out. If yeh think yer father'd rather you were expelled, then get back off ter the castle an' pack. Go on."

Malfoy didn't move. "Stop being a whimp." Heather growled at him under her breath." He looked at Heather and then at Hagrid furiously, but then dropped his gaze.

"Right then," said Hagrid, "now, listen carefully, 'cause it's dangerous what we're gonna do tonight, an' I don' want no one takin' risks. Follow me over here a moment."

He led them to the very edge of the forest. Holding his lamp up high, he pointed down a narrow, winding earth track that disappeared into the thick black trees. A light breeze lifted their hair as they looked into the forest.

"Look there," said Hagrid, "see that stuff shinin' on the ground? Silvery stuff? That's unicorn blood. There's a unicorn in there bin hurt badly by summat. This is the second time in a week. I found one dead last Wednesday. We're gonna try an' find the poor thing. We might have ter put it out of its misery."

"And what if whatever hurt the unicorn finds us first?" said Malfoy, unable to keep the fear out of his voice. Heather's face broke out into a small smirk.

"There's nothin' that lives in the forest that'll hurt yeh if yer with me or Fang, or Heather actually. Bin' thinkin' about askin' fer yer help, trackin' a Unicorn can't be that much different then trackin' deer." said Hagrid.

"An' keep ter the path. Right, now, we're gonna split inter two parties an' follow the trail in diff'rent directions. There's blood all over the place, it must've bin staggerin' around since last night at least."

"I want Fang," said Malfoy quickly, looking at Fang's long teeth.

"All right, but I warn yeh, he's a coward," said Hagrid. "So me, Heather, an' Hermione'll go one way an' Draco, Neville, an' Fang'll go the other. Now, if any of us finds the unicorn, we'll send up green sparks, right? Get yer wands out an' practice now — that's it — an' if anyone gets in trouble, send up red sparks, an' we'll all come an' find yeh — so, be careful — let's go."

The forest was black and silent. A little way into it they reached a fork in the earth path, and Heather, Hermione, and Hagrid took the left path while Malfoy, Neville, and Fang took the right. They walked in silence, their eyes on the ground. Every now and then a ray of moonlight through the branches above lit a spot of silver-blue blood on the fallen leaves.

Heather saw that Hagrid looked very worried.

"Could a werewolf be killing the unicorns?" Heather asked. Malfoy had planted the idea in her head.

"Not fast enough," said Hagrid. "It's not easy ter catch a unicorn, they're powerful magic creatures. I never knew one ter be hurt before."

They walked past a mossy tree stump. Heather could hear running water; there must be a stream somewhere close by. She would have to remember that, she could get a drink and wash up from after a hunt there. There were still spots of unicorn blood here and there along the winding path.

"You all right, Hermione?" Hagrid whispered. "Don' worry, it can't've gone far if it's this badly hurt, an' then we'll be able ter — GET BEHIND THAT TREE!"

Hagrid seized Heather and Hermione and hoisted them off the path behind a towering oak. He pulled out an arrow and fitted it into his crossbow, raising it, ready to fire. Heather, not wanting to be left out, sharpened her teeth and claws and got into an attack stance. The three of them listened. Something was slithering over dead leaves nearby: it sounded like a cloak trailing along the ground. Hagrid was squinting up the dark path, but after a few seconds, the sound faded away. It sounded like cloth dragging over leaves. Heather sniffed the air but it was gone.

"I knew it," he murmured. "There's summat in here that shouldn' be."

"A werewolf?" Heather suggested.

"That wasn' no werewolf an' it wasn' no unicorn, neither," said Hagrid grimly. "Right, follow me, but careful, now."

They walked more slowly, ears straining for the faintest sound. Suddenly, in a clearing ahead, something definitely moved. Heather sniffed the air and detected a scent similar to a horse; she also heard hoof steps coming their way.

"Who's there?" Hagrid called. "Show yerself — I'm armed!"

And into the clearing came — was it a man, or a horse?

To the waist, a man, with red hair and beard, but below that was a horse's gleaming chestnut body with a long, reddish tail. Heather and Hermione's jaws dropped. This was new.

"Oh, it's you, Ronan," said Hagrid in relief. "How are yeh?"

He walked forward and shook the centaur's hand.

"Good evening to you, Hagrid," said Ronan. He had a deep, sorrowful voice. "Were you going to shoot me?"

"Can't be too careful, Ronan," said Hagrid, patting his crossbow. "There's summat bad loose in this forest. This is Heather Potter an' Hermione Granger, by the way. Students up at the school. An' this is Ronan, you two. He's a centaur."

"We'd noticed," said Hermione faintly.

"Good evening," said Ronan. "Students, are you? And do you learn much, up at the school?"

"Yep." Said Heather.

"Good." Ronan smiled. He flung back his head and stared at the sky. "Mars is bright tonight."

"Yeah," said Hagrid, glancing up too. "Listen, I'm glad we've run inter yeh, Ronan, 'cause there's a unicorn bin hurt — you seen anythin'?"

Ronan didn't answer immediately. He stared unblinkingly upward, and then sighed again.

"Always the innocent are the first victims," he said. "So it has been for ages past, so it is now."

"Yeah," said Hagrid, "but have yeh seen anythin' Ronan? Anythin' unusual?"

"Mars is bright tonight," Ronan repeated, while Hagrid watched him impatiently. "Unusually bright."

"Yeah, but I was meanin' anythin' unusual a bit nearer home," said Hagrid. "So yeh haven't noticed anythin' strange?"

Yet again, Ronan took a while to answer. At last, he said, "The forest hides many secrets." He then looked at Heather.

"You are the wolf that hunts here from the castle?" She nodded. "You are quite the huntress. Other centaurs have seen you hunt, you are clearly talented, taking down such large prey on your own." He said.

Heather bowed her head. "Thank you."

"You have earned a name in the forest." He said

"Really?" Heather perked up, surprised. Was she really this well known even amongst the inhabitants of the forest? She had always assumed she was alone. Perhaps she had gotten centaur scent mixed up with the scent of deer. Now that she thought about it, the mixing scent of Humans and Deer made Heather veer off in a different direction, wanting to find familiar prey. She always knew there were things in the forest, but she didn't want to put herself in unnecessary harm, so she stuck with scents she was familiar with.

"You are called Artemis." He said.

"Like the Greek goddess of the hunt?" Hermione asked, speaking fully since they first met the centaur.

"The very same." He replied.

A movement in the trees behind Ronan made Hagrid raise his bow again, but it was only a second centaur, black-haired and - bodied and wilder-looking than Ronan.

"Hullo, Bane," said Hagrid. "All right?"

"Good evening, Hagrid, I hope you are well?"

"Well enough. Look, I've jus' bin askin' Ronan, you seen anythin' odd in here lately? There's a unicorn bin injured — would yeh know anythin' about it?"

Bane walked over to stand next to Ronan. He looked skyward.

"Mars is bright tonight," he said simply.

"We've heard," said Hagrid grumpily. "Well, if either of you do see anythin', let me know, won't yeh? We'll be off, then."

Heather and Hermione followed him out of the clearing, staring over their shoulders at Ronan and Bane until the trees blocked their view.

"Never," said Hagrid irritably, "try an' get a straight answer out of a centaur. Ruddy stargazers. Not interested in anythin' closer'n the moon."

"Are there many of them in here?" asked Hermione.

"Oh, a fair few…Keep themselves to themselves mostly, but they're good enough about turnin' up if ever I want a word. They're deep, mind, centaurs…they know things…jus' don' let on much."

"What do you think has been killing the unicorns?" said Heather.

"Never heard anythin' like it before."

They walked on through the dense, dark trees. Heather kept looking warily over her shoulder. She had the nasty feeling they were being watched. That made her very tense, she let her wolf ears pop out, she couldn't hear anything. What was following them?

She was very glad they had Hagrid and his crossbow with them. He could deal a longer range attack then Heather could. They had just passed a bend in the path when Hermione grabbed Hagrid's arm.

"Hagrid! Look! Red sparks, the others are in trouble!"

"You two wait here!" Hagrid shouted. "Stay on the path; I'll come back for yeh!"

They heard him crashing away through the undergrowth and stood looking at each other, very worried, until they couldn't hear anything but the rustling of leaves around them.

"You don't think they've been hurt, do you?" whispered Hermione.

"I don't care if Malfoy has, but if something's got Neville…it's our fault he's here in the first place."

The minutes dragged by. Their ears seemed sharper than usual. Heather's picked up every sigh of the wind, every cracking twig. What was going on? Where were the others? At last, a great crunching noise announced Hagrid's return. Malfoy, Neville, and Fang were with him. Hagrid was fuming. Malfoy, it seemed, had sneaked up behind Neville and grabbed him as a joke. Neville had panicked and sent up the sparks.

"We'll be lucky ter catch anythin' now, with the racket you two were makin'. Right, we're changin' groups — Neville, you stay with me an' Hermione, Heather, you go with Fang an' this idiot. I'm sorry," Hagrid added in a whisper to Heather, "but he'll have a harder time frightenin' you, an' we've gotta get this done."

She nodded. Walking over she glared at Malfoy. "Try anything and you will wish you ran into a werewolf." She smacked him over the head to make a point.

So Heather set off into the heart of the forest with Malfoy and Fang. They walked for nearly half an hour, deeper and deeper into the forest, until the path became almost impossible to follow because the trees were so thick. Heather noticed the blood was getting thicker. The scent that was linked to the blood seemed to be closer. Like tracking prey, Heather was used to this. There were splashes on the roots of a tree, as though the poor creature had been thrashing around in pain close by. Heather could see a clearing ahead, through the tangled branches of an ancient oak.

"Look —" she murmured, holding out her arm to stop Malfoy.

Something bright white was gleaming on the ground. They inched closer.

It was the unicorn all right, and it was dead. Heather had never seen anything so beautiful and sad. Its long, slender legs were stuck out at odd angles where it had fallen and its mane was spread pearly-white on the dark leaves. Heather had taken one step toward it when a slithering sound made her freeze where she stood.

A bush on the edge of the clearing quivered…Then, out of the shadows, a hooded figure came crawling across the ground like some stalking beast. Heather, Malfoy, and Fang stood transfixed. She transformed into her wolf form. The cloaked figure reached the unicorn, lowered its head over the wound in the animal's side, and began to drink its blood.

"AAAAAAAAAARGH!"

Malfoy let out a terrible scream and bolted — so did Fang.

The hooded figure raised its head and looked right at Heather — unicorn blood was dribbling down its front. It got to its feet and came swiftly toward Heather — she growled.

Then a pain like a hot knife never felt before pierced her head; it was as though her scar were on fire. Half blinded, she attacked the figure. This pain would hinder her chances of victory so she simply hoped to either kill it with one lucky blow, or severely injure it.

Heather leapt at it with a ferocious battle snarl. As she got close to the figure an alarmingly familiar scent hit her nostrils. Garlic! This had to be Professor Quirell! Who else, or what else spelled this repulsive? Heather sank her fangs into the attacker's shoulder and blood squirted out, splattering the ground and the unicorn. Pain, even worse than before shot through her head. Heather, using her momentum flipped Quirell over and through him into the ground; the pain in her head was now starting to really take a toll on her vision.

With no other choice left, Heather took off. She quickly caught up to Malfoy and got under his legs and then took off faster, him riding on top of her and Fang running beside them. The pain in Heather's head seemed to fade the farther away she got from the cloaked figure. Malfoy seemed to calm down and held onto Heather as she ran.

"Are you all right?" He asked. Apparently near death situations made Malfoy more polite. Heather had to drag him into her adventures more often.

"Yes — thank you —" She said, blood dripping from her muzzle. Curious as to what Malfoy thought the cloaked figure was, asked "What was that? Wonder why it was killing the unicorn."

Heather slowed to a walk, warned Malfoy to keep his head bowed in case of low-hanging branches, but Malfoy did not answer Heather's question. They made their way through the trees in silence as Heather licked the blood from her jaws for so long that Heather thought Malfoy didn't want to talk anymore. They were passing through a particularly dense patch of trees, however, when Malfoy suddenly spoke.

"Potter, do you know what unicorn blood is used for?"

"No," said Heather, startled by the odd question. "We've only used the horn and tail hair in Potions."

"That is because it is a horrible thing, to kill a unicorn," said Malfoy, oddly stoic. In all honesty it threw Heather a little off balance, metaphorically. "Only someone who has nothing to lose, and everything to gain, would do that. The blood of a unicorn will keep you alive, even if you are about to die, but at a terrible price. You have killed something pure and defenseless to save yourself, and you will have but a half-life, a cursed life, from the moment you drink the blood."

Heather stared ahead, the moonlight shone through the branches.

"But who'd be that desperate?" She wondered aloud. "If I was going to be cursed forever, I'd choose death, wouldn't you?"

"Yeah," Malfoy agreed, "But not everyone thinks like that. Can you think of anyone who would do that?"

It was as though an iron fist had clenched suddenly around Heather's heart. Over the rustling of the trees, she seemed to hear once more what Hagrid had told her on the night they had met: "Some say he died. Codswallop, in my opinion. Dunno if he had enough human left in him to die."

"Do you mean," Heather whispered, "that was Vol- "

"Heather! Heather, are you all right?"

Hermione was running toward them down the path, Hagrid puffing along behind her.

"I'm fine," said Heather, "The unicorn's dead, Hagrid, it's in that clearing back there."

Hagrid sighed sadly and told them to follow him back to the castle. Heather was about to do just that when she realized Malfoy was still on her back. "Hey Malfoy," Heather tilted Malfoy left and right, like she was about to shake him off, "ride's over."

When the smirk returned Heather knew the normal Malfoy had as well.

"Oh come on, just until we get back to the castle." He kicked her side like she was a horse. Hermione glared at Malfoy, finding his actions incredibly disrespectful and demeaning. Heather reared like a horse and snarled like she was going into battle, except she purposely reared so high that she fell over backwards and crushed Malfoy underneath her. Everyone else burst out laughing. Heather saw Malfoy's finger twitch from the corner of her eye.

"I can't breathe!" His gasp was muffled from Heather's fur. He started to try to pull himself out from under the she-wolf. "I think I coughed up my spleen!" He choked out, now about halfway out from under the she-wolf.

Hermione and Hagrid kept laughing; even Neville was chuckling a little bit. Malfoy glared up at them. "Hey! She's a lot heavier then she looks!"

Heather growled, turned her head to glare at Malfoy and barred her fangs. "Lift some weights!"

"Eat some lettuce!" He countered.

Ron had fallen asleep in the dark common room, waiting for them to return. He shouted something about Quidditch fouls when Heather roughly shook him awake. In a matter of seconds, though, he was wide-eyed as Heather began to tell him and Hermione what had happened in the forest.

Heather couldn't sit down. She paced up and down in front of the fire. She was still shaking.

"The thief wants the stone for Voldemort…and Voldemort's waiting in the forest…and all this time we thought the thief just wanted to get rich… Now I'm almost positive that it's Quirell!"

"Stop saying the name!" said Ron in a terrified whisper, as if he thought Voldemort could hear them. "Besides, how do you know it was Quirell, he's a stuttering idiot and I imagine that Snape doesn't smell like flowers either."

Actually Snape smelled more like various plants and potion ingredients and, Heather looked through her brain, pine forest scented soap. (I don't know what Professor Snape would smell like so humor me on this okay!) Heather glared at Ron.

"Do you doubt my sense of smell?" Heather challenged. Granted, since Heather wasn't technically a wolf her senses weren't as sharp as a wolf, and she couldn't talk to other animals other then snakes. (There's your reason why she can't be as super as an actually wolf people. Heather is really a human, she just considers herself a wolf. Now, I know that past chapters are suck-y and I plan on revising them once I finish with future chapters but they will be better.) But that didn't mean she didn't know scents when they were right in front of her face.

"No. I'm just saying I think Snape is the thief." Ron said, starting to glare at Heather.

"No, you hope that it's him so that he will get fired!" Heather dropped that conversation and continued with her story. "I managed to get away, getting Malfoy out of there to. The centaurs kept going on about how Mars was bright; he is the Roman version of Ares, who is the Greek god of war. They must show that Voldemort's coming back …I suppose that's written in the stars as well."

"Will you stop saying the name!" Ron hissed.

She wasn't saying that it was Quirell because she had yet to actually seem him steal the stone. "Then Voldemort will be able to come and finish me off…Well, I suppose he can try."

Hermione looked very frightened, but she had a word of comfort.

"Heather, everyone says Dumbledore's the only one You-Know-Who was ever afraid of, with Dumbledore around, You-Know-Who won't touch you. Anyway, who says the centaurs are right? It sounds like fortune-telling to me, and Professor McGonagall says that's a very imprecise branch of magic."

The sky had turned light before they stopped talking. They went to bed exhausted, their throats sore. But the night's surprises weren't over.