Neville took the news that Harry gave him rather badly. He felt it was only right to share what he had overheard in the Three Broomsticks. After all, Harry reasoned, if it were him in that situation, he'd hope someone would tell him if they'd found out something like this. Neville was quiet for a good while following the disclosure and Hermione, who was with Harry and Neville for the conversation, seemed very worried about Neville's reaction.

"Now, I know you must be very upset, Neville," Hermione tried tentatively after the silence became too much for her. "But you mustn't go doing anything rash."

Neville looked up as though Hermione had slapped him. "And what exactly would you do? It's easy for you to sit there and tell me what to do ... you're not the one who hears their parents being brutally tortured in your head every time a Dementor is in sight."

"I know it must be hard -"

"No, Hermione, you don't!" Neville hissed acidically. "You can't know, so don't try and pretend that you do!"

"Okay, so maybe I don't," Hermione volleyed back, stung. "But I'm trying, Neville. And one thing I do know about is being angry and wanting to fight the world just to vent at how crappy things can be. All I'm trying to say is that if you do that you're going to be in big trouble."

"She's right, Nev," Harry nodded in support. "You have to try and keep your head straight now."

"Oh, like you would, I suppose?" Neville scythed. "Are you saying that it's okay for you, for famous Harry Potter, to race off and take on his enemies, but useless little Neville Longbottom should just sit tight and twiddle his thumbs while the woman who tortured his parents is running around out there threatening us again?"

"That's not what I'm saying at all!" Harry returned, slightly riled by Neville's tone.

"Then what are you saying, that you'd stay put? Ha! Fat chance of that. I know exactly what you'd want to do if you were in my situation."

"Yes, I agree," Harry nodded calmly. "I'd want to get out there, find her and give her what's for."

"See!" Neville crowed in triumph. "Told you so."

"I'm not disagreeing, that's what I'd want to do," Harry went on. "But I'd also hope that someone was on my side who could show me how stupid an idea it was before I went off and got myself killed. Because, Nev, that's exactly what would happen ... if it's you, me, or all three of us.

"Bellatrix Lestrange is a lunatic, but a powerful lunatic ... one who learned the Dark Arts from Voldemort himself. We wouldn't stand a chance against that and you know it ... or, at least, a calm version of you knows it."

Neville went to protest but it died somewhere in his throat. He sat back on his chair and puffed out a frustrated breath.

"Yeah ... yeah I suppose you're right," he conceded eventually. "I knew it all ... I mean, of course I did, I've practically got my Mum's begging screams burned into my skull by this point ... but to hear it confirmed just somehow makes it all the more real. And to think she wanted to kill me, too ... it's so much worse now that I know that.

"I've never felt like this before, Harry ... never felt something so ugly and acrid in my heart ... I've never hated a person so much as I hate her. I've never wanted someone dead before ... and I hate it now that I do."

Hermione reached over their library table and patted Neville's arm consolingly. "And this is exactly why you cant let this consume you. To actually hate the act of hating shows just what a good and noble person you are. It's evil hags like Lestrange who give in to hate and let it define who they are."

"Which is why you have to step back," Harry took over. "Let the authorities and the Dementors find and deal with Lestrange. Don't stoop to her level of mindless revenge and make yourself an easy target. Think about what your parents would say if you did that."

"Exactly," Hermione nodded eagerly. "They know just how dangerous she is and they'd want you to stay clear. Please just promise me you'll talk to them, tell them how you feel and have them show you how rash you're being."

"I just keep thinking about what Malfoy said," Neville replied. "That if it was him he'd have done something by now. I don't like the idea of Malfoy having a good laugh at my expense over this. He laughs at me enough as it is."

"And since when have you started listening to a gonad like Malfoy over us!" Harry cried. "I know Lestrange made your parents lose their minds but I'd like to think you're smart enough to not let Malfoy do the same to you!"

"I know, but -"

"There are no 'buts', Neville!" Hermione yelped shrilly. "You can't go looking for Lestrange, you just cant. Please say that you wont."

Neville didn't reply, just stared gruffly into space.

"Promise us, Nev," Harry joined in. "Promise us that you'll be in our compartment on the train home tomorrow ... and by that I mean your full self, not in boxes containing little bits of you that I have to deliver back to your mother and father, from where Lestrange blasted you to smithereens!"

Neville gave a weak smirk at that. "Alright, I promise. I'll be a good boy and wont go looking for her. But if she turns up here again, she had better be the one who looks out."

"Can't ask fairer than that," Harry nodded back.

"Right, I'm going to pack," Neville announced in faux cheeriness as he stood up. "Don't know why we're in the library, anyway. We go home tomorrow, so what could we possibly be doing here? Have fun you two."

And then he turned and walked briskly away from them. Harry turned to Hermione.

"Do you think we got through to him at all?"

"No, not even a little bit," Hermione replied, bracingly. "We can only hope his fear of the Dementors is enough to keep him on the grounds for the next twenty-four hours."

"He makes a good point though. Why are we in the library?"

"Oh, right, well ... I need your help with something," Hermione explained in a bright voice.

"Why don't you just ask Michael Corner?" Harry fired back bitterly. "Maybe he can help."

Hermione blinked hard, taken aback by Harry's curtness. "Now why would I want to do that?"

"I don't know, maybe the fact that he's been getting a lot of your attention lately," Harry murmured. "He seems to be your go-to guy now."

"And what exactly is that supposed to mean?" Hermione asked, sounding scandalised.

"Nothing, what you do in your own time is your own business," said Harry, flatly. "I just wouldn't want to be in the way."

"In the way? Harry ... what are you talking about?"

"I think you know, but you've developed a habit of not wanting to tell me things recently, so we'll just file this along with the rest, shall we?"

"Right, now I'm totally confused," said Hermione. "What is it that I'm supposed to be keeping from you?"

"If you're going to pretend not to know, then don't expect me to play along and do the telling for you," Harry retorted.

"Pretend not to know what?"

"Oh, just forget it," Harry snapped. "What were you going to ask me?"

Hermione stared at him a moment looking shocked and concerned. "I was going to ask you to help with a last minute piece of my remedial Pensieve work, but I'm having second thoughts now. I need you calm and collected for it, and right now you don't seem either."

"I'm calm," said Harry in a oddly high and false voice. "Who said I wasn't calm?"

"I did, because you're not. Forget it, I'll do the work on my own."

Harry took a deep breath to steady himself and brush off his pettiness. "Listen, I'm sorry, alright? I am calm, and if you want my help I'll do it."

"I do want your help, but not until you tell me what's wrong."

"I don't like Michael Corner, alright?" Harry blurted out before he could stop himself. "He's an arrogant, pompous poser who spends more time coiffing his hair than can possibly be healthy."

"Ahh ..." Hermione muttered, grinning shyly to herself.

"He's a smarmy, slimy arse with a brain the size of a gnat's wedding tackle. He's a shame to the House of Ravenclaw, really. I think he'll be a bad influence on you and you should really think about spending less time with him. Plus, he's an arse. Did I mention he's an arse? Because he is one."

"I see," Hermione replied, still smiling knowingly.

"But, you know ... you do you, and everything," Harry added as an afterthought.

"Thank you for that permission slip!" Hermione laughed lightly. "At least we got the truth out of you finally. It's progress I think. But you're right, Michael isn't the quickest brain in our year, which is why I came to you for help."

Harry would have much rathered she'd said that it was because she would prefer to spend time with him over her new boyfriend, but this small victory would just have to do for now.

"Okay. So what do you need?"

"Well, I had a bit of a problem in one of Hagrid's classes," Hermione explained. "And I was hoping you could give me a pointer or two because you did really well in it. You were a natural, I'd say."

"Which class was it?"

"The one with the hippogriffs?"

"Oh yeah, I remember. Which part did you have trouble with?"

"I couldn't get the hippogriff to bow to me," Hermione confessed with a frown. "I went through all the theory ... making eye contact and bowing first and all that ... but I just couldn't get the animal to bow back."

"I think the theory will only get you so far in this case," Harry told her. "With animals it's more of a feel type thing. You have to establish trust between the two of you. It's sort of like with horses. If they sense you are nervous they'll just buck you from the saddle."

"I can't ride horses either, Harry, so that doesn't really help," Hermione huffed.

"Why don't we go down to the paddock then?" Harry suggested. "We'll grab our coats and scarves and I'll give you a practical demonstration."

"Alright, I'd really appreciate that."

Ten minutes later and Harry and Hermione were wandering down the rough stone path that led towards Hagrid's cabin. A sharp curve left then led them around a random clump of trees at the edge of the Forbidden Forest to a series of paddocks that housed the unicorns, Thestrals (although neither Harry nor Hermione could see them of course) and the hippogriffs down at the far end. They made their way along the rickety wooden fence there towards their target.

"I suppose Hagrid will be getting ready to apply all the harnesses to the Thestrals, for them to pull the carriages tomorrow," Hermione mused. "I wonder how he can see them. I wish I could ... I'd love to know what they look like."

"You do? You wish you could see Thestrals?" Harry asked in a quiet, yet pointed, voice.

Hermione looked back at him, stricken. "Oh, no ... no, of course I don't! That was a really stupid thing to say. I didn't mean that at all. I thought, when I saw those bodies back at Ice Station Zebra, that it meant I would be able to see them, though. But I suppose you actually have to witness the death before you can."

"Yeah, probably," Harry nodded. "Makes you wonder, though ... who did Hagrid see die?"

"Don't you go asking him, Harry, don't you dare," Hermione warned him sternly. "It's not likely to be something that he wants to talk about. No, don't you mention it to him."

"Alright, keep you hair on," Harry quirked, looking over at Hermione, whose cheeks were tinged red from the cold and her passions. Then Harry noticed something. "Hey ... is that my Gryffindor scarf!?"

Hermione grinned guiltily, pulling at the scarlet and gold tassels from where they protruded from her coat collar. "Oh this ... I don't know. It might be."

"It is!" Harry cried. "I've been looking for that, you know!"

"Oh," Hermione murmured, appearing slightly crestfallen. "Do ... do you want it back? Only I've become rather attached to it. It reminds me of you."

"What? On, no ... it's fine," Harry replied, oddly flustered. "I was just wondering what had happened to it, that's all. I couldn't think where I might have lost it."

"I borrowed it a while ago and I suppose I just forgot to give it back," Hermione explained. "But if you want it back I suppose I can just buy another scarf."

"No, you keep it," Harry smiled. "At least I know it's in safe hands."

"Alright then, I will," Hermione grinned back. "If there are any of my clothes that you'd like to wear I'll gladly swap!"

"Nah you're alright! I haven't got the legs for a skirt!" Harry laughed. "Right, we're here."

Harry stopped at the paddock gate and looked at the half-a-dozen hippogriffs inside. There were majestic, if slightly ugly and shocking beasts. Half eagle, half horse, they were an anomaly of nature, but Harry could sort of see what Hagrid meant when he described them as beautiful.

"Now, the thing with hippogriffs, like I said in the library, is that you have to establish trust between you and the animal," Harry began. "If you're nervous, you'll unsettle the hippogriff, alright? So be calm and confident and they wont hurt you."

"I'm not nervous, Harry. I'm with you," Hermione replied, sweetly.

"Right," Harry flushed under his thick scarf. "So, we'll try with the hippogriff I used in the class. It's this grey and white one over here. His name's Buckbeak."

"Buckbeak," Hermione echoed as Harry led her through the gate and over to the idling creature.

Buckbeak was easily seven feet tall, with sharp talons, powerful wings and beady, honey-yellow eyes. One angry flap of those wings would easily break the arm of a grown man. Hermione squeaked a little as they drew nearer.

"It's alright," Harry grinned reassuringly. "You'll be just fine. Trust me."

"I do trust you, Harry," Hermione hushed, sounding miffed that the fact was ever in doubt. "Just don't go far away, okay? Please?"

"I'm right here," Harry whispered back. He slid his arm into the crook of hers for reassurance. "Better?"

"Much," Hermione smiled, gripping on tighter.

"Okay, so I'll do the greeting first, because I've met this hippogriff," Harry went on. He stepped forwards, tugging Hermione along in his wake. Buckbeak moved towards them, stopping barely three feet away. Harry locked his eyes on the great beast's, held his gaze, then slowly bowed his head. Hermione gasped in appreciation as Buckbeak ducked his huge neck in an ungainly, but most definite, bow.

"Wow, Harry! You did it!" Hermione whispered. "And you made it look so easy!"

"Okay, now it's your turn," Harry grinned as he eased his head back up. He turned to look at the hippogriff. "Buckbeak, this is Hermione. She's a good friend of mine and wants to be your friend too."

Buckbeak turned his huge eyes on Hermione, who baulked a little under the intense stare. But she forced her gaze to hold steady, looking right into the pupils as they dilated in front of her.

"Good, good," Harry encouraged. "That's it ... now bow your head. Slowly ... don't break eye contact ... a little more ... yes! That's it."

Hermione inclined her eyes just enough to see Buckbeak curl into a bow again, before he crooked his forelegs underneath his massive body and knelt down on the frosty ground.

"Great! That was really great!" Harry clapped. "You did it first time! What did you have problems with before?"

"I think it was because you weren't with me to keep me from running away!" Hermione chuckled. "I could never hold the hippogriff's gaze for long enough. But that was easy. I think you must have said something to calm Buckbeak. Dragons, basilisks, hippogriffs ... I'm going to start calling you the Magical Creatures Whisperer!"

"It's got a nice ring to it!" Harry laughed back. "But, come on, now that Buckbeak has knelt he'll probably let us ride him."

"Ride him?" Hermione asked faintly. "Oh no, Harry, I don't think that's really necessary."

"Nonsense, of course it is," Harry returned brightly. "If it comes up on our end of year exams it will be worth extra credit if you fly the hippogriff, as well as getting it to bow."

"But, Harry, you know I'm not fond of heights," Hermione muttered, a tremble in her voice. "Please don't make me do this."

"Alright, I wont make you," Harry soothed. "But I thought you'd want to aim for the highest mark you can. If it's this that wins me back my Best Student Title ..."

"Don't goad me, Harry, that's really not fair!"

"It's just a bit of friendly rivalry. They don't fly that high, anyway. But if you'd rather stay on Terra firma and in second place ..."

Hermione scowled at Harry. "How are you even supposed to fly them? They don't have saddles or anything."

"You sort of put your knees behind the crook of the wings, then grab onto the neck feathers," Harry explained. "It's not as comfy as riding a broomstick but you get used to it."

"Can you show me?" Hermione asked. "If you do all the steering, I'll take a ride with you as an observer."

Harry blinked hard as he processed the request. "I could ... but there's some curious mythology connected to riding a hippogriff. I don't know if we should."

"Ooh, that's interesting. What's the mythology?"

Harry felt a lump in his throat as he remembered what Hagrid had told him about this. And it made him shiver even more than the cold wind swirling around the paddock. He wondered if it was just coincidence that he'd happened to stumble upon this piece of trivia all those months ago, and was now here facing this curious embodiment of the myth.

Oddly, Harry found himself a little tongue-tied when it came to explaining this to Hermione. On the one hand it seemed a little wild, but on the other lots of it fit neatly into the paradigm he and Hermione shared. Besides, their friendship was already special, so if Buckbeak allowed them to share a flight on him this would only serve to solidify their connection.

And what could Michael Corner or anyone else say in opposition to that?

"Oh, it was nothing, probably just one of those silly stories," Harry replied evasively. "Come on, let's see if Bucky will let us get on. Do you want to go on at the front or back?"

"You'd better get on first, as you're doing the flying," Hermione pointed out. "I'll just hop on behind you."

"Alright," Harry nodded. He approached the hippogriff slowly and threw a tentative leg over the back of his neck, locking his knees in place beneath the wings. Buckbeak made no move to protest. "Looks like he's doing to let us fly him. Climb up."

So Hermione did, but not without some difficulty. It took a few false starts, but by using Harry as a tether she eventually managed to haul herself on behind him. Then she frowned as she tried to get herself comfortable.

"This doesn't seem very secure, Harry," Hermione fretted. "I'm going to fall right off as soon as we take flight."

Harry curled his head over his shoulder. "Yeah ... I can see what you mean. I think you'd better ... um ... hold onto me."

Hermione smiled shyly then shimmied forwards until her legs were astride and pushed up against Harry's. Then she snaked her trembling arms around his waist and locked her hands where they met near his belly button.

"Like this?" Hermione asked, breathlessly.

"Yeah ... yeah that's good," Harry hushed back. "Hold on tight now. Don't let go."

"I wont," Hermione promised.

Then Buckbeak seemed to know they were ready. He rose onto his hind legs, Harry nudged his heels into Buckbeak's body and he leapt up and began climbing into the air. Hermione clung on tighter and tighter to Harry the higher they went. Harry could hear her saying something, but through the rush of the wind in his ears he could only catch snippets like, 'oh, no, I don't like this ... I really don't like this,' and so forth. He tried not to grin, or to like too much the warm, visceral mass of her body where it was smushed against his own.

"I'll fly us once around the front of the Forest and then we'll go back down," Harry called back. He wasn't sure if Hermione could hear him, but he simply tugged gently on Buckbeak's feathers and turned him as if he were a thick, feathery broomstick.

After a few minutes, Hermione seemed to relax and her grip on Harry loosened to something more akin to a tender embrace, rather than a death-grip for dear life. Harry closed his eyes at her touch, enjoyed the feeling of her being so close that her hair was tickling the apex where his neck met the base of skull, and wished for a world where it was just the two of them on their adventures without all these other things to complicate everything. All in all, it was a very pleasant flight ... until Hermione suddenly began poking him in the back with some force.

At first, Harry thought it was an accident, but then it grew slightly painful as Hermione stabbed her fingers in so hard that Harry felt as if she'd lodged them between his ribs. He turned his head crossly.

"What?" he mouthed.

"Down there! Look!" Hermione shouted back.

Harry stared down to where Hermione was pointing and saw, quite clearly, what.

For an enormous wolf was running full tilt into the depths of the Forbidden Forest.

"Set us down there, Buckbeak!" Harry ordered, guiding the hippogriff into a steep dive. Hermione squawked angrily behind Harry, and gripped on as tight as she could around his middle. Buckbeak landed with a thud at the tip of a crude pathway that led towards the dark mass of trees.

"Look, tracks!" Harry cried as he and Hermione slipped off Buckbeak's back. "We can follow it."

"What do you mean 'it'!" Hermione shrieked. "It's her ... it's Lestrange ... and we are not following her!"

"We have to, Hermione!" Harry implored. "This is our best chance to catch her!"

"And how do you intend to do that?" Hermione yelled, breaking into a run to keep up with Harry as he shot off. "After all we said to Neville this morning!"

"Yeah, but that's Neville, isn't it?" Harry called back dismissively. "We dice with Dark Lords and their minions for sport! Come on, before she gets away."

Hermione knew it was pointless to argue with a Harry this set and spirited, so she simply settled into her standard Plan B ... to do what she could to keep him safe. She kept pace as he raced along ahead, calling out things like, 'the track goes here,' and, 'there's fur caught on this bramble bush!,' as they wound their way deeper and deeper into the gloom of the Forest. Soon, the canopy overhead was so dense that there was no light above them at all.

"Harry! We need to stop!" Hermione shouted to him. "Before we get lost!"

Harry skidded to a halt and Hermione arrived at his shoulder, clutching a stitch in her side.

"Are you okay?" Harry asked, as Hermione clung to him to catch her breath.

"No, I'm not!" Hermione hissed back. "We shouldn't be here, Harry. We should go."

Then, footsteps nearby crunched the dry twigs of the Forest floor somewhere to their right. Shocked still a moment, Harry came to first, tugging Hermione behind and tree and pressing her to the ground, where they sat crouched tight together in the hollow.

"Can you see her?" Hermione breathed.

"Sshh!" Harry implored as he scanned the dark trees all around them. His heart sounded like it was beating in his ears. For the longest few moments there was nothing but silence ... and then a piercing howl sounded no more than a few feet behind them.

"Run!" Harry screamed, pushing Hermione out in front and sprinting from their hiding spot in her wake. But he had barely taken a few footsteps when something large an heavy rammed right into him.

"Oof!" Harry grimaced as he was knocked to the ground. A mound of fragrant leaves cushioned his fall, but his ribs would have a nice bruise from the original impact. He looked groggily around.

"Harry!" Hermione shrieked in terror. Her tone turned Harry's blood cold.

Pushing his glasses back up his nose, Harry looked over to the source of the scream. Hermione had tripped on a root and stumbled to the floor nearby, where she was now on all fours trying to regain her feet. Harry could see several shallow scrapes on her face, caused either by the fall or from where low-hanging branches had whipped her face on this foolhardy run into danger.

And it was a danger very much pertinent now ... as that unnaturally large wolf was now leering over Hermione with it's foaming jaws snarling and ready to strike.

Harry was paralysed with fear, and a vague sense of his own stupidity sent panic raging throughout his brain. Why had he done this? Why had he been so idiotic? Hermione was going to die here and there was nothing he could do, other than to face a life without her, and the guilt that it was all his fault.

And then, a voice from in his pocket.

"Harry! Make me big! Do it now!"

Harry didn't even need to think. He drew his wand as Marici slinked out of his jacket pocket and threw herself on the ground. A second later and she was her full size again, leaping over Harry with a roar so fierce and guttural that even Harry felt it rattle in his own bones. It was more than enough to draw the attention of the wolf, who cowered back warily as the giant lioness bared her fangs at it.

"Leave her!" Marici commanded in a deep growl. "This one is mine."

Harry watched as his dæmon placed herself right between Hermione and the wolf, and the two animals began circling each other. Marici was bigger than the wolf and in her protective anger seemed to dwarf it. But the wolf wasn't backing down. It opened it's slobbering jaws once again in a gesture of attack ... but Marici wasn't in the humour for games.

The golden-furred dæmon leapt forwards and slashed one of her massive paws at the wolf, slicing three sharp claws across its muzzle. The wolf howled and whimpered in pain as chunks of flesh and fur came away. It backed away but Marici went with it, snapping her jaws into the flesh between neck and shoulder. Harry felt the contact in his own body, as though it were his own teeth and his own rabid anger being unleashed in the fight.

The wolf pulled clear with another pitiful whine and, knowing it was spectacularly outmatched, limped into the brush line and fled away into the darkness. Harry finally found his energy again and hauled himself over to Hermione, who was now sitting on her ankles as Marici padded up to her. For a moment, the two just looked intently at each other.

And then, quite unexpectedly, and with the sort of courage that Harry could only dream of, Hermione reached up and snatched her arms around the lioness' neck, burying her fingers deep into her lustrous fur.

"Oh, thank you, Chi! Thank you! You saved us!" Hermione sobbed into Marici's shoulder. The dæmon just purred back and closed her eyes at the contact, gently licking the specks of blood from Hermione's cheek.

Harry barely registered any of it. He gasped so deeply that it took his breath a moment, which only added to the breathlessness he was feeling from Hermione's touch on Marici. He was overcome with a pleasure so violent that it was the very definition of joy. It rendered Harry incapable of speech, so he just watched, transfixed, as Hermione hugged his very soul in her corporeal form.

And it was a good thing that Harry couldn't move ... because something very weird was happening between his legs, something that had never happened to Harry before, but that some of the boys in the dorm had been talking about lately.

Fitfully embarrassed, Harry crossed his thighs and puffed out a breath to cool his searing hot cheeks. He didn't know where to look, hoped Hermione didn't look at him for a moment, and felt a groan rise in his chest. He dearly wished Hermione would let go of Marici ... as he'd never be able to get himself sorted if she didn't.

And then, as if she'd heard him or regained her sensibilities, Hermione flew away from Marici as though stung by her. She apologised over and over for the hug, hastily straightened her hair and robes, and fanned her own skin, which was glowing crimson hot even in the gloom of the Forest.

"We ... we should get moving," Hermione suggested in a high-pitched voice.

"Y-yes," Harry stuttered, struggling to think of anything more humiliating just now than the idea of standing in front of Hermione in his current state. "Are you okay to move, though? Don't want to do you another injury if you're hurt."

"I ... I'm okay. I think," Hermione continued in that awkward tone. She looked chancingly at Harry. "You?"

"Oh, me? Fine, fine ... absolutely fine," Harry replied with a bashful laugh. His voice had matched Hermione's for pitch. "I think I tore a muscle in my thigh, so if I walk a bit funny, that's why."

Hermione bit her lip and Harry could have sworn that she was trying not to giggle. Could she know? Harry was mortified to think that she might, and then it occurred to him ... if her touch on Marici could do this to him, did she suffer in a similar way when Harry touched Papageno? He'd never even considered it before.

But then again, this was all brand new for him .. only minutes old, actually.

"We should try and get going though," Hermione advised. "Just in case Bella decides to come back for Round Two."

"Oh, that wasn't Bellatrix Lestrange," Marici cut in abruptly. Harry and Hermione looked in shock at each other.

"How do you know, Chi?" Harry asked.

"I just do," Marici replied. "Bella may be able to take the form of a wolf, but not that wolf. That wasn't a natural wolf, either, but one thing I know for sure ... and I could tell from its scent ... is that it cant have been Bella."

"Why not?" Hermione pressed.

"Because ... that wolf was male."