CHAPTER FIFTEEN
into his crossbow, raising it, ready to fire. The three of them lis-
tened. Something was slithering over dead leaves nearby: it
sounded like a cloak trailing along the ground. Hagrid was squint-
ing up the dark path, but after a few seconds, the sound faded
away.
“I knew it,” he murmured. “There’s summat in here that
shouldn’ be.”
“A werewolf?” Harry 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.
“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. Harry and
Hermione’s jaws dropped.
“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 Harry 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?”
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