Author's note: This chapter is a little experiment. I've been toying around with translating lately and I wrote this chapter in Dutch first and after that translated it to English. Boy, my vocabulary in English turns out to be very limited :P. After translating, I had to make some serious changes to make things sound logical. Weird, how different Dutch and English works. Anyway, I hope this eventually turned into something readable (next chapter I will start in English right away again, I'm way too lazy for this :P)(and I hope I didn't leave in too much ik's and en's, the Dutch words for 'I' and 'and' kept slipping through). Hope you enjoy reading it! As always, I'm interested in knowing what you think, so don't hesitate to review if you're feeling like it.

- Chapter ten -

Fluttering leaves in the wind

In a steady rhythm the wings of the Hippogriff beat away the night air on its sides, hitting the legs of Harry, Ron and Hermione. The air which had felt pleasantly refreshing at first, now seemed to rub over their skins like sandpaper with its coldness. Their limbs were starting to feel stiff and a cool pain was creeping into them. Hermione loosened her grip around Ron's waist and after that even laid her hands on her lap. She shook her upper arms in attempt to loosen and warm them up a bit and intertwined her fingers with each other. Ron looked down when Hermione's arms left his waist. His red hair fell aside and Hermione saw his white neck glow in the darkness. Did he feel sorry about her arms no longer being there? Despite the cold wind, Hermione felt warmth creeping up her neck.

Ron could still feel the imprint of Hermione's arms on his sides, her hands on his chest. He thought of the dark scales of blood which would now cling to the golden fabric of her dress and the red streaks which would be painted across her wrists. The ink stains he so often saw on her skin just next to the hems of the sleeves of her dark Hogwarts robes, when she carefully scratched her quill across long pieces of parchment, swam before his eyes. The light frown in her forehead when she wrote down an answer to a question in long regular loops with great concentration… And now she was sitting behind him. So close. Not in a chair opposite to him in the Gryffindor common room, not walking through Hogwarts halls with him, not even sitting next to him having breakfast in the Burrow. Right behind him…

His thoughts were interrupted by severe shaking of his body. He felt ill, as if he was going to be sick. Images of ripped open orange fur and empty eyes flew past before his eyes, followed by images of small wrists with golden sleeves, a Harry which grinned proudly over his shoulder, blood on metal armour… Repulsion and attraction, pride and fear, alternated so quickly that all that remained was a light feeling in Ron's head. He clasped his legs tighter around the Hippogriff, afraid that the landscape around him might go adrift like the things in his head and that he would fall down, yards and yards through the sky, until he would fall down on that toylike landscape underneath him, with its tiny groups of trees and stones.
Meanwhile, sunrays softly started tickling the Hippogriff and its riders. Above a large dark blot on the landscape before them, some forest perhaps, the sun hesitatingly showed a piece of its orange-red rim. It felt good to Harry to fly towards the sun. The memory of the beasts in the night weighed heavily on him and the sun would push away those thoughts with its light.

Harry was very proud of Ron, that had to be said. He'd finished the huge beast, he'd lain under its monstrous body in a large pool of blood. When they were back to back, surrounded by wild beasts, Harry had heard the roaring yell and then the dull thud. When he had looked across his shoulder, the cumbersome body of the beast was just rolling over on its side, pushed by Ron's bloody hands. Harry felt something like shame, that he had been surprised by Ron's triumph, but quickly a large proud grin had pushed away that feeling. Ron now had his own story in which he did not play the supporting role, but the leading part. It was no pleasant story, though. Harry felt the way he had when he had peeked into the living room through a slit of the door, when Dudley had secretly been watching a horror movie with his friends there. A man with a deformed face flashed across the screen with a bloody knife in his hands, a screaming woman was running through a deserted street… Back then, Harry had never been to Hogwarts and had never heard of anything worse that car crashes. He had run back to his broom cupboard en closed the door firmly, and pulled his blanket over his head and pressed his ear hard against his pillow.

Now that they were flying so high above the ground and the sun was colouring the landscape pink and orange, for a moment it seemed like Harry could once again hide underneath his blanket and shut out the things which feared him. He closed his eyes en enjoyed the soft warmth on his cheeks and the wind which pulled his hairs and the flapping pieces of his clothes. For a moment, he pretended they didn't have to get off the Hippogriff anytime soon and that they could safely remain above the horror story below.

All too soon the moment was gone. The wings of the Hippogriff stopped their steady stokes and started fluttering irregularly. Harry opened his eyes and dug his heels in the chest of the Hippogriff to get it to fly properly again. The Hippogriff shook its head in an irritated way, but didn't resume it's fast flying.
"Come on…" Harry muttered and he tightened his grip on the neck of the Hippogriff. He tried to steer the shaking head in the right direction again and pushed his feet even harder into the sides of the Hippogriff. The beast made an angry sound and refused to fly any further. It seemed to rear up in the air, as though it was burning itself on an invisible wall in front of them. More urging on caused anxious squeaking. The wings flapped wildly. At irregular intervals, Harry, Ron and Hermione soared up a bit and then fell down a few yards, as though they were in some fairground attraction.

They were at the same level as a roof of foliage, a big green globe which was spread out far before them, then they sank down further, past more leaves, lower, more leaves, farther down, past huge branches, even lower, pas stems as broad as trains. At the bottom of the trunks the hoofs and legs of the Hippogriff hit the ground. It reared up wildly and threw Harry, Ron and Hermione of its back. They fell on top of each other and when the bird legs of the Hippogriff were on the ground again, it shook its feathers as though they had messed them up, like a dog with a wet fur, and after a quick fearful glance in the direction of the trees, it galloped off in the direction from whence they came. With her chin on the ground, Hermione saw the paws running off, past trees, over stones, until they jumped out of view. Hermione groaned.

"So far for mount number four…" she sighed. She pushed herself up on her hands in order to sit. She rubbed her scratched elbow.
"They don't seem to like me."

Next to her, Ron and Harry got on their feet. Harry extended his hand and pulled Hermione up.

"One might start thinking so." Harry grinned. "Why did the beast act so weird all of the sudden?"

"It didn't seem to want to go any further," Hermione said. "As if it was scared."

"Scared of what?" Ron asked.

All three of them turned their head in the direction where they were headed, in the direction of the sun. Only the sun could no longer be seen: all that was visible was a very thickly wooded forest. The enormous stems they had seen when they descended and the green leaves which grew on them seemed to form a massive wall in front of them, which reached very high. Oddly, there was an opening amongst all the wood right in front of them, a gate of two partially intertwined stems. De gate provided them with an entrance to a tunnel which existed out of entangled branches. The ground was covered with shiny green leaves, with a colour as intense as you only see it on plants which appear first after winter. Somehow golden beams of sunlight penetrated the tunnel and made an enchanting mixture of green and gold dance before Harry, Ron's en Hermione's eyes. 'Come in', the forest seem call out to them. Their feet were tickling, longing for the feeling of juicy leaves under their soles.

Hermione felt her foot step towards the gate, how the glistening path beckoned her en pulled her towards it. Harry fluttered his eyelids and shook his head to get the emerald sparkling out of it. He clasped fingers around Hermione's arm to stop her from going through the gate. As if he had disturbed her while she was in deep thought, she stared vacantly at Harry over her shoulder. Then she shook her head too and the normal Hermione returned in her eyes.

"That path, it's…-" she said slowly.

"I don't think we should take that path," Harry said decisively. "Ron", Harry shook his shoulder and Ron too came to his senses again, "we're going to find another road."

"Huh?" Ron said, but Ron had already started walking and Ron and Hermione followed him. They walked next to the green wall for some time, but it seemed to be more or less the same everywhere. It didn't curve, so there was no way to start walking in the direction of the sun again. Harry started walking faster and faster. Hermione had to resort to some sort of hopping leaping.

"Harry…"

He looked over his shoulder, as if he only just remember having Ron and Hermione tagging along, and stopped.

"I don't think we can get around this forest," Hermione said to him, slightly out of breath. Harry placed his hands at his sides and looked from the far left to the far right across the border of the forest. Nothing but what they had already seen for many yards could be seen. Hermione placed all her weight on her healthy leg as she waited for Harry. Harry sighed and looked at Ron and Hermione again.

"I guess you're right," he said. In the short silence that followed, he tried to think of what they could do. However, the silence was broken by a cracking and rustling noise behind them. It sounded as though boughs were breaking and leaves were snowing down. When Harry turned around to look, the saw a tunnel which looked almost exactly like the one they had seen before. Was that a flicker of a shadow at the end of the path?

"I don't think the story leaves us a choice," Hermione said, and after a short hesitation of her body, she stepped through the wooden gate, unto the green strewn path. The boys followed her. The scent of freshly mowed grass on a Sunday morning, but a hundred times as intense, streamed into their nostrils. The air seemed to be made of liquid gold and seemed to surge as air does when the weather is hot. It was indeed warm in the tunnel, it seemed like a secluded space from the chilly landscape outside. The leaves rustled high in the treetops and under their feet, and they made an enchanting music none of them had ever heard.

When Ron looked down, he saw flashes of red amongst all the green. He brushed some leaves aside with his right foot and more red became visible, mixed with yellow, blue and darker colours in an intricate pattern.

"A Persian rug?" Ron said to himself with light astonishment. The others walked some feet away from him and didn't hear him. Ron rubbed over the red with his boot and felt fabric. Yes, it was indeed a rug. Ron shook his head in confusion. This didn't make sense.

In fact, this whole path didn't make any sense at all. He looked over his shoulder, trying to decide whether to continue, but didn't see anything other than green and gold behind him and decided to join Harry and Hermione again. This road at least took them closer to their destination. After some steady pacing, he had already reached the others again.

After some time, it was hard to say how much, for they seemed cut off from things such as time and the outside world, the end of the golden path came into view. A grassy green blotch grew bigger and bigger as they approached it: they were nearing a clearing. The dazing scents started to be diluted by fresh air. They got out of the tunnel and a beaming blue sky greeted them.

In the middle of the clearing lay a large heap of very fluffy cushions in bright colours. Amidst all the green, yellow and blue were the pink creases of a large skirt. A girl who was something like thirteen years old sat on a pile of red cushions, with a posture so upright and proud that she looked like a queen. She resembled a doll, her skin like white porcelain and her hair strewn across her slender shoulders in long dark ringlets. She had a small turned-up nose, cheeks so pronounced it seemed exaggerated and her narrow pinks lips were curled into an amused smirk.

She giggled softly. "Welcome my Princes."