The Forbidden Forest at Hogwarts is very large, and the connecting paths are very close to the high mountains at the edge.
"Awooo—" Wolf howls echoed from the mountain.
Tonight is the night of the full moon, the night the Werewolf transform.
Vincent looked miserable. "I feel like I'm being cursed by the god of misfortune."
Hermione tightened her grip on his small hand. "Don't scare yourself. Didn't you say the Werewolf in the Forbidden Forest aren't aggressive?"
"Yes." Vincent looked up at the mountain in front of him, recalling when he met them riding Reeves.
We greeted each other, so I guess that counts as friendly, right?
If only we could have gone to the Werewolf tribe with the Centaur beforehand, at least we wouldn't have to worry about uncertainties other than Sirius Black.
Run back to the castle?
No, Sirius Black, who has disappeared, is one threat, and the Werewolf with their keen senses are another.
Accio to summon the Rascal Rabbit, then ride a broomstick back to the castle.
It still doesn't work; my location will be revealed if I don't get on the bike.
After much thought, the Time-Turner is the safest option.
But right under the Werewolf's noses...
"Let's leave here quietly first."
Hermione was led forward slowly by him.
"Watch your step, Sirius Black could appear at any moment."
The atmosphere became tense.
Even under the influence of the Disillusionment Charm, they would stop to check for safety before continuing if there was any disturbance in their surroundings.
It's unclear who was so nervous that their palms were sweating, but both of them felt their hands were sticky when they held hands.
It might be Vincent's, or Hermione's, or more likely both.
"Swish, swish—" The sound of leaves rustling rang out once again.
As with countless other instances, this time the leaves were being moved by the wind.
"Snap—"
Before Vincent could even catch his breath, he heard a faint sound of a branch snapping.
Hermione felt the strength with which he held her, and they stood back to back in the same spot, understanding each other perfectly.
Under the pale moonlight, the Forbidden Forest was fraught with danger.
The bleak wind howled like thunder, making their hearts pound.
A dark shadow flashed past Hermione's peripheral vision and disappeared into the dark, deep forest.
Sweat trickled down Vincent's forehead, down his nose, and dripped onto the withered yellow leaves at his feet.
"Crunch, crunch—" Something stepped on the fallen leaves on the ground.
The sound was rapid, as if someone was running.
Another dark shadow flashed by, and this time Hermione saw it clearly.
It wasn't Sirius Black or Werewolf; it was just a Murtlap that looked like it had gotten lost.
"Phew—" she relaxed and whispered in Vincent's ear.
Hagrid is so irresponsible; he actually lost an important living teaching aid.
The crisis is over, and we can move forward.
"Squeak—" After walking a few steps, the Murtlap came running back.
Its tentacles stood on end, and it cried out in terror as it swiftly flew past as if fleeing.
"Awooo—" The wolf's howl answered the two people's doubts.
This is a dangerous sign because the call was very loud and could not be coming from the mountains behind them.
A Werewolf came down; has it been discovered?
Vincent and Hermione's hearts raced, and they stood rooted to the spot, too afraid to move.
Werewolf are actually a magical disease, a contagious disease called "Mad Wolf Syndrome".
It is transmitted through saliva and blood, and like AIDS in Muggle, the condition can be controlled but is irreversible.
The Werewolf in the Forbidden Forest are almost all purebred or Half-blood who can maintain their sanity after transforming, so they shouldn't come down on the night of the full moon.
The worst has happened.
Werewolf possess formidable physical strength, excellent eyesight, keen hearing, a powerful sense of smell, tough fur, and sharp claws...
"Swish—thump—"
The sound of leaves rustling was fine, but the sound that became increasingly clear, as if they were falling on a thick tree trunk, was the real problem.
Perhaps because of the Murtlap, the Werewolf is rapidly approaching this place.
The Disillusionment Charm cannot block out scents; if you're unlucky enough to be discovered, you can only pray that the other person will engage in friendly communication.
Every second was agonizing; time seemed to drag on forever.
Hermione's body was trembling, Vincent had to hold her small hand tightly.
Although she couldn't see the expression on his face, Hermione knew he had prepared for the worst.
She felt a strange sense of familiar comfort.
When they were attacked by the Basilisk, and when they beat Byron.
Is this what it feels like to be protected?
She grasped Vincent's large hand in return, no longer afraid of the blurry black figure approaching from afar.
The Werewolf leaped over one thick tree trunk after another, finally landing on the ground about 50 feet away from the two men.
Although only a blurry silhouette could be seen, he appeared to be half-lying down, clearly using his sensitive nose to sniff out his surroundings and hunt down the prey that had drawn him there.
But in the instant he turned around, a pair of eyes that left an extremely deep impression were revealed.
The eerie blood-red color shrouded in darkness resembled Sirius Black, which appeared to have been magically altered.
Are the escaped madmen of Azkaban Werewolf?
No, the answer I just pieced together is wrong.
The painful screams in the Shrieking Shack are caused by the transformation; the lack of attack is because the person doesn't want to hurt others.
As for why they left their tribe and went into hiding...
The Werewolf suddenly jumped over.
Vincent immediately held his breath, with only one thought in his mind.
As the other person drew closer, this thought grew stronger and stronger.
Even the faintest breath and heartbeat still exist, let alone scents, which are far more complex than anything in nature.
The blood-red eyes were very close, and they could already feel the Werewolf's scorching breath.
Although they can't see it, the Werewolf knows that something is in front of it.
He raised his long, slender arms, which resembled bamboo poles, and waved his claws casually around.
One, two, three...
From a distance, he appears very thin, but his sharp claws give the impression that they could tear apart steel plates.
They kept getting closer and then drifting away, which didn't seem like they were capable of having a proper conversation.
The Werewolf opened its fierce mouth, revealing two rows of sharp teeth.
Perhaps the "new prey" was too tempting, because he secreted a lot of saliva.
It wasn't the bloody smell you might expect, but a stench even more overpowering than not brushing your teeth for six months.
Gradually, he seemed to become impatient, waving his claws faster and faster, and his posture became more and more aggressive.
A gentle breeze stirred Vincent's hair, and the unseen Alder Wand quietly pointed at the ground beneath his feet.
Since we can't communicate, we can only try to reason with them.
The withered yellow leaves stood up one after another, turning into long, black nails.
The Werewolf seemed oblivious, continuing to tear through the surrounding air haphazardly.
As Vincent had hoped, he indeed stepped into the spike trap.
The Werewolf stopped waving its claws.
He lay down as if he felt no pain, sniffing the long nails that had turned from fallen leaves.
"Awoo—" he howled, closing his blood-red eyes as if listening intently to something.
Perhaps driven by animal instinct, he crawled along the spikes.