Disclaimer: I own nothing that belongs to J.K. Rowling. Although, I wish I did.
Cognizance of a Tumultuous Whomping Willow
By: Wanda
{Team Captain of The Caerphilly Catapults! Round 6 of The Quidditch League FanFiction Competition Genre Challenge: Slice of Life}
I am Bergdis, the spirit of the Whomping Willow. I was born into this world, set out to protect one human child, a student of Hogwarts who changed into a monster on the night of the full moon. However, those days have long since passed and no one needs me for their protection. Now I spend most of my days whomping those who dare to trespass into my domain – usually birds, those damnable little blighters.
It is now nearing the day that all the little human children return to Hogwarts. I hear the trees in the forest whispering of the boy who saved them from the Eater of Unicorns last year. It's amazing to hear that a human child destroyed such a being but I have my doubts that the creäture is truly dead.
The sun is finally rising and I can feel its rays shining through into my now opening leaves. It feels good when the sun rises. It always reminds me of why I am alive. Although my meaning has become a moot point, I still believe I have some kind of purpose. I, after all, protect the legend of the Shrieking Shack and I am the reason why the human children still hear it's screams.
I feel my leaves wither and hear Deirdre's screams once again as she cries out to me from the ethos. Deidre is the spirit of the Weeping Willow outside of Godric's Hollow. She was placed as a second type of guardian to the child that lived there who was supposed to be destined for greatness. She was cursed years ago and there is nothing I can do for her from here. I keep wishing for a visit from the one who speaks to spirits but he has not yet arrived. He has refused to speak to me ever since I let that boy slip past me and learned of his moon child's secret. No one else has dared to check on me since that child of the moon was last here and that was many seasons ago.
A bird chirps in the distance. I can hear it as it taunts me so. "No Stay Back! Oh look a bird...Do you DARE to trespass into my domain? After seeing all your cousins' carcasses and skeletons, you STILL DARE! You blasted bird, STAY AWAY!" I demand as I swing my branches around aimlessly, hoping to deter the little blighter before I make my final move. I wrangle my branches even more as the bird dares to dive into the folds of them. "Too late, you bloody bird!" I twist my branches and swing them ten folds harder and thrust one of my branches straight through the heart of the bird until that bloody bird explodes, leaving blood and feathers upon my leaves. "There that is what you deserve, you little heathen—death."
Can the sun rise any slower? Do the birds ever stop trying to trespass into my domain? No...never. It's an endless cycle. The trees in the forest are gossiping about the boy again and I want to hear nothing of it. It's not my moon child and I could care less about a savior of the Wizarding World. I am but an old tree, withering away without a true purpose. I am dying at the thought of Deidre's cries and what they could possibly mean, as she has been crying out to the ethos for nearly the last forty-eight seasons.
It's been traumatizing, hearing her screams with the inability to do anything, with the exception of waiting for a man that speaks with spirits to stop by for a small conversation. I have learned even my cries to him have gone unheard, even though he stays within the limits of Hogwarts. It's like he is deliberately allowing us to suffer in this pitiful agony all because we failed our duty. I failed in protecting the moon child from the dark-haired child of the snake house and Deirdre failed her task in protecting the boy and his family from a terrible monster. HOW DARE HE BLAME US! We are merely guardian spirits and we can only do so much!
"Please Deidre...I can only take so much of your screaming...please...calm down. I am trying my best to get in touch with the Speaker of Spirits. Please stop. Please. I can no longer bare to hear you and I don't want to lose you to the final decay. Please," I cried out to the ethos, crying out to my cousin in an effort to stop her cries. It hurts to know that I cannot help her, but it hurts even more to hear her screaming. It's so difficult to think when her screaming encumbers the voice of my own thoughts.
The sun has finally reached high noon and the cries of Deirdre have long since died, now she merely whimpers in agony and I can feel her pain. It's true agony, as it feels like all the nutrients of the sun are doing more harm than good. I imagine this is what fire might feel like, with the absence of fire actually being there to burn her. What kind of agony? What kind of disease has she been cursed with? Is there a cure? Is the final decay, the only way for her to escape such agonies? Has her begging to our father led her nowhere? Only the rain seems to somewhat sooth her and she hibernates like the rest of us during the winter, but how much longer can she survive this pure agony? How is it she survived this long?
Now I can hear the pecking of a woodpecker as it slams it's beak into one of the trees in the forest. The spirit's cries go unheard as the bird is but a doctor, a doctor who removes the unwanted inhabitants – the type that can kill a tree. The screams are now reminding me of Deidre's agony and how I can do nothing for either of them. I want to bash that doctor to bits, if he would only dare come near me. He's the smartest bird of the forest and has not yet dared to come near. He saw his brethren die and has avoided the lash of my branches. I whip my branches around, just to be certain no bird has dared entered my territory whilst I was distracted by Deirdre's cries.
"Oh look...how did I miss you, you vile creatures? How could I not see that you and yours have landed on my branches? You dreadful creatures! LEAVE NOW OR FOREVER LAY IN PIECES!" I wrangle my branches to discourage the birds from staying perched upon them, giving them the free will to leave before I make them the new additions to the pile of their dead kin. "No? You won't leave? You DARE STAY WHERE YOU ARE NOT WANTED?" I thrash my branches, weaving them around. The birds dodge a few of my harsh blows but not my last thrust, as three birds become prey to my sharpened branches. All three make a wonderful explosion of blood and feathers that are now gently gliding to land on the grass. "Good riddance, you heathens. You continue to commit suicide by entering my domain, knowing very well that many of your kind have died for daring to do the same."
Oh...ow! That damn bird made me snap a twig! That blasted bird! How could they? I've smashed countless of birds and none of them dared take a piece of me with it. It hurts! ARG! The pain is nothing compared to Deirdre's but, still, it stings! I can feel my sap leaking from the savage cut of the tiny budding branch. It hasn't even grown past it's prime, it only had a few budding leaves and now it's gone. You damnable birds! "STAY AWAY FROM ME OR I SHALL MAKE YOU WISH YOU NEVER LIVED! I HAVE BEEN NICE! I HAVE KILLED YOU SWIFTLY! THE NEXT BIRD WILL NOT BE AS LUCKY! YOU HEAR ME! YOU HEAR ME YOU BLASTED BUZZARDS! OW! It stings...it burns...oh! I hate you...you blasted birds...I hate you!"
The sun is again beginning to near the horizon. I can tell as the sky is starting to become that delightful pink color as the sun is beginning to set. I sigh as I can no longer hear Deirdre's whimper. She must have gone into a resting state as the sun was setting. The trees in the forest are forever gossiping about the boy who saved the forest last year. I wrangle my leaves in frustration. That blasted creäture is probably going to come back, and with a vengeance. No small human boy can defeat such a creäture that dares drink the blood of the unicorn and expect it to be completely dead with one ounce of effort. That blasted creäture chose to live a half-life. You think it wouldn't find another way to survive? I wish those trees would just shut it. If my branches could only grow long enough to smack them around a twist, but no, I must suffer by listening their idle gossiping.
The boy this...the boy that...the boy...the boy...the boy...I grow tired of their gossiping. Why can't they speak of normal, ordinary occurrences? Why must they focus all their energy on a simply human boy? So what, who cares? So what if he is going to be a Second year, so what? That creäture is gone for now, this season might be as mundane as the last. Stupid gossiping oaks.
I am so bored by their idle gossip. The sun is beginning to dive into the horizon and I grow tired of this world. I wish to enter the world of dreams where I can visit Deidre properly as Spirit Guardians do on the plains of the other world. Hopefully, this time, her agony is more bearable so we can discuss the symptoms of what ails her. So, if the Speaker of Spirits does come by, I may tell him of her plight.
Speaking of the students, I can hear the carriages as they begin to make their way towards Hogwarts. The human children, like the trees, are gossiping about the occurrences of the school season before and questioning the significance of the school seasons to come. It's quite dull to hear the whispers of the trees repeated by these human children.
Oh look, that boy who saved the day has gone missing. Several of the students are running around in a panic looking for him and one of his friends. You see, you gossiping oaks, the boy doesn't even plan to come this year. It must have been the most traumatizing experience for a young sprouting human. Good riddance. Hopefully nothing of consequence happens this season. Perhaps a normality has finally returned to this season. It will be good to see the children happy and prosperous, rather than distraught in dismay and utter agony.
Sleep...it's finally that time. The sun has finally crossed the border of the horizon and I feel my leaves begin to close, as the moon is now fully lit within the sky and the stars are sparkling brightly from their spots in the heavens. It's a wondrous sight to leave behind as I go into a state of rest.
Author's Note: Please don't kill me—I'm sorry "A Hidden Prince" fans. I know, I need to work on it, but the inspiration has fled me even though the idea is planted in my mind. I will work on it I promise. Just wait until the last day of school. I bet I will bust out with a few chapters once this Philosophy Class is through.
Lost O'Fallon Girl