1992 cont.

It felt like no time at all that they had left the forest behind and found themselves in a field of sun-yellow. The sun stood high which meant that it must have been around noon. The brick road gleamed brightly, while the click, click, click of the sparkling red shoes on gold accompanied them. When at first, they had been glad for the sun, it now started to get a little too hot, and they were eager to get through the maze of corn.

A little way down the road, they sat down to rest. Draco cast a cooling charm over them, as they caught their breaths. With the burning sun above, and the stillness of the air, they became painfully aware of the fact that there was hardly a living thing around them.

'Can I ask you a question?' Hermione said suddenly, tearing into the silence.

'I hate to point out the obvious, Granger, but that already was a question.'

Hermione rolled her eyes. 'Must you always be an utter prat?'

'Maybe,' he said loftily and lifted his nose in the air. 'What do you care anyway?'

Hermione huffed. 'Nevermind then.'

They descended back into silence. A bee whizzed over their heads, circling Draco's hair that was glinting like silver in the sunlight. It landed, but as soon as it had understood that he was not a flower, it buzzed away again.

'What was it then?' Draco said abruptly.

Hermione turned to look at him. He was staring fixedly ahead, across the yellow brick road right to where it was lined by the tall corn.

'Oh… I just…' Hermione hesitated. 'I've wondered why you're like this?'

'Like what?'

Hermione bit her lip. 'Well, given our circumstances I'd have expected you to throw a bit of a fit. Something like that. And yet, you've stayed surprisingly calm, and I'm wondering why.'

'What would that have accomplished?' Draco asked, sneeringly.

'How should I know?' she shot back. 'It's not like rationality usually keeps you from being an arse.'

Draco pursed his lips. 'Can't help it that I'm here with you, can I? And given everything, you're not the worst choice to get stuck in a situation like this.' Hermione raised her eyebrows in surprise, and Draco rolled his eyes. 'Oh, don't be dim, Granger. Of course, I'd much rather be stuck in here with you than Potty or Weasel.'

After that, Hermione didn't say anything for a while. She just sat there, her brows knitted, and stared at a point on the road.

The silence ballooned between them.

'I just wonder,' she said finally, and Draco's head snapped up. 'What's changed?'

'What do you mean?'

'I mean…' She chewed her lip as if deciding on something. 'Last summer, you had no problem at all talking to me. But then at school, you suddenly pretended I didn' even exist. So I wondered what changed.'

'You're friends with Potter,' Draco said, turning his head away. He seemed suddenly very interested in the ants crawling across the yellow brick road.

'But it was long before I became friends with Harry that you started ignoring me. On the train, remember?'

Draco only shrugged and kept his eyes trained on the formation of ants following one another in a perfect line.

'Of course, you remember!' Hermione said, slightly irritated now. 'We had the loveliest conversation on your ancestor's grave, and yet, come Hogwarts, I'm not worth a second look?' She stood up, brushing off her jeans.

'Don't kid yourself, Granger. Just because I enjoy a decent conversation from time to time, it does not follow that I'd choose you as my conversationalist.' He also made to stand, diligently brushing off his robes.

'Didn't seem to bother you before,' Hermione retorted hotly.

'That was a mistake,' Draco shot back. His eyes widened, and he pressed his lips together.

'A mistake?' Hermione searched Draco's eyes, but he turned his head away. 'Why was that a mistake?' Draco started walking again, and she followed him quickly.

'You know why,' said Draco angrily, stubbornly fixing his gaze onto the yellow brick road, energetically marching ahead as if he was striving to get rid of both her and the conversation.

'No, I don't know why!' Hermione was furious now, her voice getting slightly shrill. 'And I bloody well deserve—'

'Because you're a Mudblood!' Draco shouted.

Both stopped dead in their tracks. His breath coming rapidly, Hermione so startled by this explosion that she was momentarily lost for words.

'What?' Hermione's brows knitted in confusion. 'What's that even mean?'

Draco stared at her, his grey eyes flashing, specks of blue and green reflecting in his irises. Then he abruptly marched away.

Hermione just stood there, completely at a loss. Though she did not understand what it was exactly that Draco had said, she'd pretty much got the gist of it. A Mudblood was something truly bad, and apparently, reason enough for him not to be friends.

But really, Hermione thought, it was utterly silly. She huffed. Fine. If Draco was shallow enough that a one-word concept could decide over the success of a friendship, he was not worth her time anyway.

Draco was already a good hundred feet ahead, and Hermione had to break into a run to catch up with him. One thing kept circling her mind. His reasoning. The longer she thought about it, the less it made sense.

'But it didn't stop you at first though, did it,' she said when she was level with him. 'I'm still the same person. I haven't changed; you haven't changed either. So what's the real reason we can't be friends, Draco?'

Draco remained stubbornly silent.

'Look, here we are again. We get on quite well, don't we. At least, we seem to understand each other, we can talk about lots of things, and when we're–'

'Why won't you just shut up?' Draco glowered at her. 'For god's sake! We can't be friends – end of story!'

'But why? It doesn't make any bloody sense!'

'Because,' Draco said forcefully, though he still refused to look at her, 'you're like this,' he gestured at her, 'and I'm like this,' and he pointed at himself.

Hermione glanced down at herself. Jeans, T-shirt, ruby slippers. Her clothes were pretty dusty, and there were a few unseemly grass stains. But his robes certainly didn't look any better.

'Are you saying fashion is the reason?' she said, incredulously.

Draco muttered something indistinguishable.

Hermione couldn't help but burst into giggles. 'Well, that's just utterly ridiculous!'

Draco's scowl deepened, and he strode away again, leaving a laughing Hermione behind. She had to run to catch up with him again.

'Well, have it your way then,' she said, still chuckling. 'If you really are that shallow, maybe it's not the worst thing in—'

Draco stopped so abruptly that Hermione almost smacked right into his back.

Peering around him, Hermione realised immediately why. They had come to a crossroads: one leg of the yellow brick road went left, the other went right. Both roads were framed by tall corn plants that made it impossible to get an overview of where they were leading.

'Great,' Draco said darkly. 'Now what?'

Hermione considered both ways for a while and then took a good look around. 'I don't see a sign...'

Draco sighed but still helped her search their surroundings for a clue.

'Maybe it doesn't matter which way we go,' Hermione said slowly, 'the elves said that the yellow brick road will lead us to Emerald City. Both paths are the yellow brick road; ergo, both should bring us to Emerald City.'

Draco stared at her incredulously. 'That's the stupidest thing you've ever said.'

'Certainly not,' Hermione sniped back, 'Never heard of "All roads lead to Rome"? Given that Emerald City is as central to Oz as Rome was to the Roman empire, that conclusion is the most logical solution.'

'But then why construct two ways in the first place?' Draco snorted derisively. 'If there are two ways, there has to be a difference. Maybe they both lead to Emerald City, but one is shorter and the other longer.' Draco glared at the crossroads as if he could somehow intimidate it into revealing an answer. 'And I certainly don't want to wander around any longer than necessary. I'm getting tired.'

Hermione huffed. 'That won't happen. Since we will have to choose at some point, we will never know if there was a shorter way. Except,' she added, smirking slightly, 'if you wanted to find out, we would have to split up.'

'We're not splitting up!' Draco said, a little too quickly.

Hermione fought a grin. She turned to inspect the crossroads again, craning her neck to see down the roads. 'I wish we could see where they lead us.'

Draco walked a couple of metres down the one road, and then came back to do the same to the other.

'I can't see anything,' he said, sulking. 'The corn is so high that you can't see anything but the plants. Great.' He plopped down onto the road, expectantly looking at Hermione. 'Now what?'

'I wonder...' she mused and felt inside her jeans pocket where she had stored her shrunken trainers, as well as the book. She pulled out the copy and, with a tap of her wand, restored it to its former size.

Draco eyed her curiously as Hermione continued to search in the book. 'What are you doing, Granger?'

'I thought,' she blurted out, cheeks stained crimson from excitement, 'that, well, we have the book, haven't we? So why don't we just look up which way the characters go!' she explained enthusiastically. 'I mean, it's actually a failsafe, isn't it! I can't believe that I haven't thought of it earlier!' She continued to flip through the book in search of the part where Dorothy encountered the crossroads. After a while, her actions slowed.

As her hands lowered, Draco raised an eyebrow. 'What's it say then?'

Hermione frowned, continuously glancing back at the page her fingers had marked. 'It doesn't say...' Her voice trailed off and just as Draco was getting impatient, she continued, 'The book doesn't tell the story of Dorothy and Toto anymore. It's the story of–' she looked up into Draco's worried face, 'it's the story of you and me. We're Dorothy and Toto.'

'Let me see that.' Draco walked briskly over to her and reached out for the book.

The passage she had read was about half-way through the book. About a quarter of a page was covered in letters. The other one and three quarter pages were blank – though "blank" was not actually precise. There, on the left page, letters were appearing, one after the other, forming words, constructing sentences.

Hermione and Draco looked down on what was their story being written in front of their very eyes.

' "They stood together and looked down onto the book in wonder, not quite sure how to proceed." That's ridiculous!' Draco said and turned to look at Hermione who continued to

stare transfixed at the page. She pointed to the passage where his exact words had just materialised, together with the description "and he turned to her, just as he always did when in need of confirmation."

'That's— NOT TRUE!' Draco snatched the book out of Hermione's hands, slammed it shut and tucked it under his arm. 'Let's just go, Granger.' He stomped off and in his stupor, he didn't even notice that he was going back where they had come from.

'Draco— wait!' Even though he wasn't running, his anger-spurred pace was so fast that Hermione had to break into a sprint to catch up with him. 'You're going the wrong way,' she said, carefully touching his arm.

'That is just— it's just—' shoulders slumped, lips forced together, he took the book and stared at it with such an intense expression that Hermione worried he might rip it up any moment.

'I know,' she said with a low voice and tentatively held out her hand. He handed the book back and the second he let it go, his entire demeanour crumpled. It dawned on Hermione that he was finally having some sort of breakdown. She turned around to give him some privacy and busied herself with shrinking the book and tucking it away. 'I really think that Emerald City will hold all the answers for us,' she said calmly. 'The sooner we get there, the better.'

'But we don't even know which way to go.' Draco sunk down on the golden path, legs outstretched, propped up on his hands, and looking into the blue sky. 'What if we never get out of here?'

Hermione walked over to him and held out her hand. 'Nonsense,' she said firmly. 'I'm sure there's an answer somewhere. We just have to find it.' She bit her lip.

That, of course, was pretty much a facade at this point, but Hermione had enough empathy to understand that Draco needed affirmation and patience to calm down. And if being squeezed to death by a giant Devil's Snare or being potentially killed by a giant chess set had taught her anything, it was that keeping a cool head was half the trick.

Draco grabbed her hand and let her pull him upwards. 'Come on, Draco. I'm sure this is just a little magic gone wrong. A relive-your-story-spell or something like that. ' She made a few steps back towards the crossroads and looked over her shoulder to see him rooted in place. 'Let's go. One thing after the other. First, we'll worry about getting to Emerald City.'

He sighed but then he righted his shoulders and walked back to her, his posture once again rigid and proper.

'Stupid Gryffindor,' he mumbled as he caught up with her.

Hermione smiled. 'And I'm sure you can see how that's a good thing.'

He didn't say anything in return but Hermione thought that his lips turned up just slightly. Back at the crossroads, Draco considered both paths again.

'No, first, we have to decide, if we're going left or right?'

'I still think it doesn't matter. Which one do you reckon?'

'Left, of course!' he said immediately. 'It's the more magical side.'

Hermione snorted. 'Don't be ridiculous, there's no such thing as a "more magical side".'

Draco lifted his chin and he peered down at her, despite the fact that they were the same height. 'Morgana, Merlin, and Circe all had the left as their wand hand.'

Hermione rolled her eyes. 'Totally coincidental, and also utterly arbitrary. You could just as well have picked three other witches or wizards to prove the exact opposite. For example, Dumbledore, Artemisia Lufkin and Rowena Ravenclaw, all right-handed!'

Draco opened his mouth to respond, when they were interrupted by a lofty voice that came from somewhere between the corn. 'Left is correct.'

Draco jumped back. 'Who's there?' He edged a few steps behind Hermione and stabbed his wand in the direction the voice was coming from.

The corn parted and out came a scarecrow. His tall and lanky stature was emphasised by the straw protruding from his joints. He was dressed in a red and green checkered shirt, a large and old hat, and a plaid jumpsuit. For some reason, he also wore horn-rimmed glasses.

'Oh!' Hermione exclaimed. 'I know you!' She beamed at him.

'Hello, hello. Extraordinarily nice to meet you,' said the Scarecrow and bowed deeply, a strawy hand tipped to his hat, the other holding his glasses in place. 'Do excuse me for interrupting your absolutely riveting discussion but I thought I should offer my assistance. You see, left is correct—'

'Ha!' Draco shouted from behind Hermione.

'—but right is right!'

'What?' Draco frowned, narrowing his eyes. 'You're not making any sense. How can both right and left be correct at the same time?'

'Forgive me,' said the Scarecrow, bowing again, 'I lack brains, you see. That might be why my reasoning seems extraneous. What I was meaning to say was… left brings you right to Emerald City, whereas right leads you directly to the Great Wizard.'

'Isn't that the one and the same?' Draco said.

'Well, that depends. It's the same direction but not the same destination.'

Draco slowly edged forward to stand closer to Hermione. He peered at the Scarecrow suspiciously. 'Ridiculous. And why should we trust him anyway?'

'But Draco! Don't you see?' Hermione said, bouncing in excitement. 'Because he's the Scarecrow!'

The Scarecrow considered Hermione with wide eyes, looking her up and down, until her sparkling shoes caught his gaze. 'Oh!' he said finally, 'you must be a witch.'

Grinning, Hermione introduced herself and Draco, and gave a brief explanation why they were on their way to the Emerald City. 'We want to go home, you see,' she concluded.

'Ah,' said the Scarecrow and nodded gravely. 'I can see how that's something someone would want. I myself desperately desire a brain.'

'A brain?' Draco said, frowning again, 'But how can you want for a brain when clearly—'

'Why don't you join us?' Hermione interjected quickly. 'The more the merrier!'

'Absolutely not, Gran—'

'Why thank you,' said the Scarecrow pompously, bowing for the third time. Draco rolled his eyes. 'I have indeed been thinking about approaching the Wizard for quite some time, and now would be an excellent opportunity to do so!'

He offered his arm to Hermione. Giggling slightly, she took it, and they skipped down the yellow brick road, completely ignoring Draco who came after them, shaking his head in disbelief and mumbling under his breath.

'What is it you two want from the Great Wizard?' the Scarecrow asked a little way down the road.

'As Granger said. We want to go home,' Draco said shortly from behind.

'Ah yes.' The Scarecrow nodded and his glasses wobbled on his nose. 'Where's that again? And what do you need the Wizard's help for?'

Hermione explained how she and Draco had been transported to Oz, how they had battled the Wicked Witch of the East and, ultimately, won the shoes, but that they hadn't brought them back home as they had expected them to.

'I see,' said the Scarecrow and nodded gravely. 'Indeed, it is paramount to always ask someone older or wiser for help.' Draco snorted. 'My dear boy, it is true! How else will you know that you're doing the right thing?'

'How hard can it be,' Draco sneered, narrowing his eyes at the Scarecrow. 'Just use your brains.'

The Scarecrow made a sad face and let his shoulders hang. 'Ah. That is at the heart of the problem though, isn't it?'

Hermione gave Draco a meaningful look. 'Be nice!' She turned to face the Scarecrow. 'We'll see soon enough how the Great Wizard can help us. But if this story is anything like—' She hesitated and glanced in Draco's direction, who scowled back at her. '—like we think it is, he will at least be able to do something .'

The Scarecrow continued to ask all sorts of questions and Hermione rattled away, happy for an eager conversation partner at last. Draco followed slightly behind them, saying nothing and scowling at their backs.

Soon, the large fields of corn were behind them and flowers tall as a wizard lined the road. Their blossoms of brilliant shades of red, purple, and blue, were as large as Professor Sprout's umbrella flowers.

'Oh, Draco, look!' Hermione said excitedly, pointing to a patch of purplish flowers, nodding their heads in the soft breeze. 'Don't they look just like the ones that grow on your ancestor's grave?'

Draco pulled a face. 'I suppose so.'

'You're not even looking properly! These ones here.' Hermione ran over to inspect them more closely.

'They are rather pretty aren't they,' said the Scarecrow who had walked over to her to look at the flowers. 'And they rather resemble the lilies don't they.'

'Yes, that right! These ones are asphodels, and their roots are commonly used in Sleeping Draughts.'

The Scarecrow bent his large head and sniffed. 'They do smell exceptionally lovely.'

Hermione beamed. 'Don't they? They're usually white but these have this extraordinary pinkish colouring. Oh, and look! Poppies!' Hermione pointed out the red flowers. 'These were on Robert's grave as well weren't they?'

Draco didn't respond, and Hermione turned her head. He was standing a little away from them, his eyes fixed on the yellow brick road in front of them.

'You shouldn't sniff the poppies, Granger. Haven't your parents taught you that they're dangerous?' Tight-lipped and sullen, Draco seemed to have fallen in a foul mood again. He narrowed his eyes at the flowers, as if they were to blame for whatever was wrong now.

Hermione stood, frowning at Draco. 'It's just a harmless little flower.'

'There is no such thing as a harmless little flower. If you don't know the exact species, it could very well kill you.'

'Goodness,' said Hermione, rolling her eyes. 'It's not like we're stuffing our noses with poppy seeds.'

'And I also don't appreciate you two twiddling around. We need to get a move on things. We've been here long enough.' Draco turned around and stalked away. Hermione huffed, but nevertheless, she and the Scarecrow made to follow him.

'I don't know what's got into him.' Hermione said apologetically.

'Maybe he's had a bad experience with poppies before?' the Scarecrow offered thoughtfully, scratching his head under the hat.

'Might be.' Hermione frowned. 'But even if that was the case, there's an antidote right here.' She pointed at several tiny white flowers with black stems lining the brick road.

'Oh, how pretty!' The Scarecrow picked one and put it into the button-hole of his overall.

'They're called Molies, and they're used to counteract all kinds of enchantments!'

'Incredible how much you know,' the Scarecrow said, marvelling at her. 'You're simply a fountain of knowledge!'

'Oh, I'm just well-read,' said Hermione, but her cheeks flushed a deep magenta. 'But if you're interested in these sorts of things… Poppies are really fascinating plants. Did you know that they not only induce sleep, but they can also be used for the opposite effect?'

'No!'

'Yes! Poppies are also used magically to keep a person in your mind.'

'What a lovely idea. It's like planting a memory.' The Scarecrow wobbled his large head, the brim of his hat flapping up a down. Hermione smiled. How good it was to have someone nice to talk to.

'Are you coming or not?' Draco, who was already a good hundred feet ahead of them, was scowling at them. He turned on his heel and marched on.

'Coming!' Hermione shouted back. 'We'd better hurry then,' she said to the Scarecrow and they ran up to Draco who, for someone who was as tall as Hermione, had picked up quite the speed.

With the Scarecrow as a companion, it seemed like almost no time at all until the fields of corn had morphed into a sea of sunflowers, and soon after, into hills of rolling green, dotted with lovely spots of red in-between. Not far from the path there were apple trees with branches hanging almost to the ground from all their ripe fruits.

'At last!' Draco exclaimed abruptly. It was the first thing he had said in a while. He ran over to the nearest tree and reached for a low-hanging fruit. Glancing Hermione's way, he hesitated for a short moment before throwing a red apple her way. He picked a green one for himself.

'I'm not sure if we should eat them.' Hermione regarded the fruit in her hand suspiciously.

'Come on, Granger. Surely, the story won't kill us that way? Or is there anything in there about poisoned apples?' He looked at her, eyebrows raised expectantly.

Hermione shifted uncomfortably, 'Not in that story but—'

'There you go. And it won't do if we starve to death.' He eagerly bit into his fruit.

Hermione eyed him carefully as he munched happily, licking his lips. It seemed perfectly all right though. And after all, Draco had a point — they couldn't afford to starve here. So Hermione put aside her worries. She wiped the apple on her trousers and took a bite.

It was as if it was the best thing she'd ever eaten. The apple was juicy and delicious, and tasted like no other she'd had before. Draco, who had finished his fruit in the blink of an eye, was already scouting for another. He was walking into the orchard in search of one of those rare green ones he preferred. There were lots of red apple trees, elder trees, many old Wiggentrees and others that were full of fruit that looked like distant relatives of pears.

'These look extraordinarily delicious,' said the Scarecrow, also wandering into the grove.

'Would you like to try one?' said Hermione.

'Hm,' said the Scarecrow and he weighed his head from one side to the other which made his large-brimmed hat flop up and down. 'I do not think that I could taste anything. However, one should always try and find out, shouldn't one?'

Hermione giggled and went to fetch another apple. By now, Draco had walked so far into the grove that she could barely see him anymore; an enormous, blooming elder tree hid him.

'Draco? Don't go too far, all right?'

'Yes, yes,' he called back, his tone impatient, 'haven't you seen the elder and the Wiggentrees? I'm going to be just f— what's that ?' There was a strange clanging sound. 'Er, Granger?' Draco called, his voice somewhat strained and a lot more cautious. 'I think you ought to see this…'

Alarmed, Hermione and the Scarecrow ran into the orchard, following his voice. When they had rounded the elder tree, they immediately realised what the matter was.

Draco had stumbled upon a tall, massive man made entirely out of metal: the Tin Woodman. He looked almost exactly how Hermione remembered him to be: his frame was large and covered in metal plates which, up close, seemed a lot more intimidating than he'd ever appeared on the telly; the axe in his right hand stood at an odd angle as though he was frozen in the process of cutting wood; and his head was broad and angular, and topped off with a pointy hat that was a funnel turned on its head.

'What is this?' said Draco. He circled the unmoving man to inspect him from every angle, albeit from the safe distance of a good yard. 'He looks as though he's been stupefied, but he's not a wizard, is he?' He frowned. 'He also doesn't look like any creature I know of… does that book of yours say anything about it?'

Hermione explained that he was indeed part of the story. Simultaneously, she approached the Tin Woodman.

'He seems to be frozen,' said the Scarecrow who had also approached them with careful curiosity. 'Either that, or he's inanimate.'

Draco stared at the Scarecrow. 'Just like you, you mean?'

'I am not inanimate,' said the Scarecrow, affronted, 'as you can very well see. I am quite the opposite!'

'You're straw, and he's tin,' said Draco, sneeringly. 'So not flesh and blood, so what makes you so special that you call yourself "animate"?'

'Well for one, I talk,' retorted the Scarecrow hotly. 'He does not!'

'A talking thing does not a living thing make,' Draco replied, turning up his nose.

'That is outrageous,' said the Scarecrow, 'I must say, young man, that—'

There was a squeaking noise, and Draco and the Scarecrow whirled around.

Hermione who, in the meantime, had been prowling the high grass for the Tin Man's oil can, was busy oiling all his rusty joints and screws. There was a fair bit of squeaking and creaking at first, but as soon as Hermione had oiled his jaw, he opened his mouth.

'Thank you!' he said woodenly. It was as though it cost him a great deal of energy to talk. He flexed his arm a little, and there was an ear-splitting screech. The axe fell out of his hands and landed with a heavy thump in the grass. Reflexively, the Tin Man bent to retrieve it, and the long, jarring squeal that followed sent shivers down their backs. Draco and the Scarecrow covered their ears.

Hermione added more oil to the screws and bolts in his back until the Tin Man could finally move smoothly and soundlessly.

'Thank you,' said the Tin Man again and bowed deeply. 'Indeed, I am a living, breathing thing,' he said to the Scarecrow who uncomfortably shuffled from one foot to the other. 'But you ought not feel bad, my dear fellow. After all, how alive can one be, if one lacks a heart.'

And then, the Tin Woodman told them his story: how he had once been a Warlock and fell in love with a witch; how he had asked for her hand in marriage and was deemed unworthy by her parents; how the lovers then hatched the plan to elope and live elsewhere together; and how they were found out and he was cursed by her father. Somehow the curse went wrong, so instead of being turned into a statue with a heart of stone, he found himself transfigured into a man of tin. The effect was the same; the Tin Man didn't have a heart anymore.

'It is horrible not having a heart,' said the Tin Man, his voice thick. Hermione was sniffling quietly and the Scarecrow was loudly blowing his nose into a check-patterned handkerchief. 'I can't even mourn my beloved. As soon as I cry, I start rusting and am then doomed to stay frozen.'

'No heart sounds a lot better than having a hairy heart.' Draco said haughtily, intently studying the berries on the elder tree. 'So be glad that's not what happened.'

'A hairy heart? What on earth are you talking about?' Hermione said irritably. She was patting the Tin Man on the back as gently as she could without making a clanging-banging ruckus.

'The Warlock with the Hairy Heart?' Hermione's frown deepened, and Draco sighed theatrically. 'My God, Granger. Maybe you ought to brush up on your proper Wizard stories before dallying in the Squib stuff—'

'How about,' said the Scarecrow loudly, eager to interrupt what was sure to become another row, 'how about you join us. We're on our way to Emerald City to beseech the Great Wizard for a favour — surely you could ask him to give you a heart!'

The Tin Man perked up. 'Do you think so?'

'That's a brilliant idea,' said Hermione, beaming. The Scarecrow looked exceedingly pleased with himself, and the Tin Man, too, seemed a lot less teary-eyed.

'If there's even the slightest chance that he can give me a heart, I'd be a fool not to try it,' he said and smiled tentatively.

'Besides, the more the merrier!' said the Scarecrow, nodding eagerly. He offered his right arm to Hermione. She giggled and took it. The Tin Man walked to her other side and did the same. Laughing, they skipped through the orchard back to where they had come from. When they had almost reached the yellow brick road, Hermione turned around to make sure that Draco was following. He was still standing in the apple grove, hands clenched tightly at his side and glowering at something on the ground. After a second, he picked up one of the green apples that had fallen from the trees and threw it away. The fruit slammed against the massive trunk of one of the Wiggenweld trees and exploded in a splatter of juice and pulp.

The sky was as bright and blue as ever, and yet Hermione didn't feel a twinge of tiredness. She was exhausted, but it was a sort of mental exhaustion. Draco had descended back into being pesky and moody which got a little hard to deal with. So Hermione was happier than ever for two other companions who were perfectly contrary in their eagerness to talk to her. Chatting happily, she stopped worrying about Draco's dark, glowering expression.

Hermione rather liked them, the Tin Man and the Scarecrow, even though they might have been considered a little much — a position Draco was firmly holding, judging by the many sighs and scoffs he uttered whilst pretending to ignore them. The Scarecrow reminded her rather of Percy Weasley, slightly stiff and a stickler for the rules but a good heart nonetheless. The Tin Man, on the other hand, vaguely resembled Hagrid, passionate and a little brash as he was. Though she supposed these similarities were less actual likenesses and more inspired by the fact that she sorely missed her friends, it remained curious to her why the story hadn't chosen her — or Draco's — closest friends as models for the characters.

After what felt like a few more hours of walking — in any other world it would have been dusk by now, surely — they came to the edge of another forest. It appeared to be a grim, dark-looking place, but not dark in the way the other forest had been with foliage so thick that the sun couldn't get through. This one looked as though it swallowed light, as though it devoured the shafts of sunlight and transformed it into shadows.

As soon as they had entered, they saw their first impression reaffirmed. This forest was indeed much more sinister than the first one they had crossed. Whereas previously, there had been strange voices echoing through the thicket, here, they could make out barely a sound at all. A deadly quiet spread over them like a heavy blanket, that made them talk in hushed voices, anxious of being overheard. Where the other forest had been gloomy but vibrant, this place seemed devoid of colour altogether. It was as though someone had taken away the yellows and the reds, and turned up the greys and blacks instead. The only spot of colour and light was the yellow brick road, its golden hue cutting through the shadowy darkness as if it was glowing from within.

And yet, there was no other way to Emerald City; the yellow brick road led them straight through. Summoning all their bravery, they huddled closer together. Even Draco who had been maintaining some distance between himself and the other three appeared nearer to Hermione's side.

They edged forward, a little less cheery than before and with a lot more care. The Tin Man and the Scarecrow marched at the front, Hermione and Draco followed close behind, axe and wands respectively drawn and at the ready.

They hadn't been walking long when a strange swooshing sound cut through the silence. They halted, listening carefully for its source when suddenly, the Scarecrow yelped and jumped into the air.

'Oh!' He glanced down at himself and showed them a huge hole that was torn through one of his strawy arms. 'Something's hit me!' He said, his voice high and panicky. Bending down, he scooped up the shredded material and hurriedly pushed it back into the hole in his arm.

The three others glanced around, cautiously and frightened, straining their eyes and ears for anything that could be the origin of the threat. Hermione and Draco lit their wands. First, there was nothing. But then, something cut through the air; again, a low whooshing sound came whizzing towards them.

'Duck!' shouted Malfoy. Hermione dropped herself to the ground just in time. Something sailed over her head so fast that she felt the air move against her hair.

'What was that?' she whispered, her voice trembling.

They stayed low, and soon enough, there was the low whooshing sound again, growing faintly louder. Something cut through the air above their heads again. This time, they heard the something clattering to the ground, rolling over the bricks of the road. Another swishing sound followed and this time, the something hit the Tin Man with a resounding clang .

'It's coming from there,' said Draco and pointed to their left. 'And it seems to be hurtling more of these things at us. We'd best stay low until we know what that is.'

They stayed ducked down— except for the Tin Man. Before any of the others could react or keep him back, he had stood and walked over to where they'd heard the something land. He bent to retrieve it. He came back, holding up a long, pointy thing. 'It looks like a stick, or a thorn almost.'

'Let me see,' said Hermione, holding her lit wand close. Carefully, they huddled together, the Tin Man standing between them and the direction the projectiles came flying from.

'That's the thorn of a Spiky Prickly Plant,' said Draco.

'I don't think so.' Hermione frowned, thinking hard. 'According to Miranda Goshawk in her Guide to Herbology, the spikes of a Spiky Prickly Bush should be yellow, or green if it's a wild plant. But these are brown, and they flatten out towards the edges. Though I've never heard ejected thorns be mentioned quite as large as these. They are enormous. In any case, this definitely looks like the thorn of a wild Spiky Bush.'

'So?' said Draco, sounding irritated. 'The difference hardly matters.'

'Incidentally, it does matter,' said Hermione pointedly, pursing her lips, 'because the Spiky Prickly Bush can be cut down, whereas the Spiky Bush has to be burnt!'

'All right, a Spiky Bush. Now what?'

Hermione bit her lip, thinking hard. 'Since we'd have to set it on fire to stop attacking us, maybe if we waited to see where the thorns came from—'

'Righto!' said the Tin Man promptly. 'My tin armour protects me. If you just walk behind me, you'll be safe, and we continue - simple!'

'That only works if the bush would be attacking us from right in front of us,' said Draco, sneeringly. 'So we could do that, if you wanted us to get spiked from all directions except the front.'

The Tin Man frowned at Draco. 'I was just making a suggestion—'

'And it was a good suggestion too,' said Hermione quickly, glaring at Draco. He turned his head away, probably scowling again. 'But maybe we should determine the direction out of which the bush is shooting at us first.'

The four of them stayed very low and waited attentively for the thorns that kept flying their way. It didn't take long to figure out where the plant was located. Clearly, it had made them out as a threat and kept hurtling its thorns at them, so a good dozen attacks later, they had gathered that the bush was shooting at them from a little to their right, from within the thicket beyond the path. They weren't particularly keen on steering off the road, but since they didn't want to get punctured by the Spiky Bush either, they hardly had another choice.

So they bushwhacked through the thicket, the Tin Man in the front, then Hermione and Draco with their wands out, and the Scarecrow bringing up the rear. It was clear that they were approaching the plant, for the closer they crept, the faster the bush kept hurtling the deadly thorns at them. The way they kept bouncing off the Tin Man's armour, banging and clanging, almost made him sound like a strange percussion instrument.

They were about ten yards deep into the thicket when the light from Draco and Hermione's wands illuminated a little clearing. In its centre was a huge, spiky bush, a good ten feet tall, its branches swaying dangerously. An arm with a large, long spike was slowly inching backwards, as though pulled back by an invisible hand. It hovered for a second, the two spikes sitting on it, vibrating. Then, it snapped, catapulting the spikes towards them.

They whizzed through the air and Draco and Hermione immediately dropped to the ground, covering their heads.

'Ahhh!' The Scarecrow shouted, throwing his hands up in panic, but the Tin Man had already jumped in front of him, throwing up his armoured arms. With a loud clang , the spikes bounced off his metal.

'It's getting rather angry, I think,' said the Scarecrow in a high voice. 'You really ought to do something soon.'

'Right,' said Draco, brushing off his robes as he scrambled to his feet. 'The fire-making spell.'

'Fire?!' shouted the Scarecrow, his voice now squeaky. 'No, not fire!'

'Don't worry. We'll be careful not to hit you. How could we survive without you chewing our ears off,' said Draco icily, though his mouth twitched as though that was exactly what he would have liked to do.

'All right,' said Hermione, peering around the Tin Man, her eyes trained on the Spiky Bush, which was moving its twigs in formation, readying for another attack. 'On the count of three?'

He nodded.

'One—' They raised their wands.

'Two—' They edged into position, ready to move.

'Three!'

They both jumped out from behind the Tin Man. ' INCENDIO !' they bellowed.

Large jets of fire erupted from their wands and hit the Spiky Bush. Immediately, it started to quiver and shake. Its twigs were rattling as though trying to resist, but the long spikes, dry and brittle, caught fire instantly. Soon, the entire bush was aglow, painting the clearing in a warm red and golden light. They heard scuttling over the forest floor, probably smaller animals escaping the fire, rustling through the brushwood to get to safety.

They waited until the plant had burned to the ground before Draco and Hermione poured water over the glowing remnants to prevent any chance of a forest fire.

Hermione sighed in relief. 'Good. I think we can go back now—'

She was interrupted by a long, winding howl that made the hairs on their necks stand up.

'AAAOOOOOOOWWWWW!'

'Oh dear! Oh dear!' The Scarecrow had thrown itself to the ground again, his hands pulling down the brim of his hat to cover his head.

The Tin Man had jumped into action, brandishing his axe. 'Who's there? Show yourself!' he shouted, glancing wildly in all directions.

'AAAAWWWWRRRRRROOOOAAAARRRRR!'

This time, the howl distorted in a long, thundering growl that echoed through the woods. The Scarecrow whimpered on the ground. The Tin Man with his axe held high and Draco and Hermione with their lighted wands raised edged towards the sound, slowly, carefully. They could make out something huge moving behind a large Flutterby Bush a mere few feet from where the Spiky Bush had been.

'It's enormous,' whispered Draco his voice trembling with suppressed terror. 'Dear God.'

'Pleaase—' said the Scarecrow from behind them, his voice quaking. 'B-best n-not stir it up! Le-let's go b-back to the—'

'No!' said the Tin Man firmly. 'We don't want it to jump us when our backs are turned.'

They moved incrementally closer, and the nearer they got, the bush shook harder, its leaves quivering as the enormous shadow of a creature within moved. It gave another howling roar and they froze.

'Oh!' said Hermione suddenly. 'I know what it is! You two stay here!' she said to Draco and the Tin Man. With the wand light held high, she approached the whimpering creature.

'Are you barking,' whispered Draco. 'Have you utterly lost it?'

'Stay here,' said the Tin Man urgently and grabbed Draco's shoulder.

Hermione was already half-way at the bush when something huge pounced out at her.

'RAWWRRRRRRRRRRRR!'

Draco gasped. It was the largest lion he had ever seen, probably twice or three times his size. It had a round face with wild, golden eyes as large as his hands, and its mane was glowing in the light emitted from their wands.

But Hermione seemed unperturbed. Hands stretched out in front of her as if she wanted to placate it, she made humming and cooing noises as she advanced. The lion reared its head and gave another resounding roar, showing two rows of razor-sharp teeth.

Before Draco had realised what he was doing, he had shaken off the Tin Man's hand and jumped forward, edging himself in front of Hermione.

'Don't worry, it's the Lion!' she said, perplexed, as though that was explanation enough.

' Don't worry? ' Draco stared at her. 'ARE YOU TRYING TO GET YOURSELF KILLED?' Red sparks erupted from his wand.

The lion froze, his large golden eyes fixed on Draco's hand. And then, in a move that made them all gasp, the lion jumped back.

'D-D-d-on't hurt me anymore! P-p-please don't hurt me!' Its voice was almost comically tiny compared to its enormous frame; a voice that sounded vaguely familiar to them. The lion withdrew and curled up in the Flutterby Bush again. 'Don't hurt me anymore, pleeeease.'

'What the—?' Draco stared incredulously at the whimpering and shaking lion behind the tree.

'Oh no, it's scared, the poor thing!' said Hermione. Making soft cooing noises, she walked slowly forward, hands held in front of her. 'Don't be scared, we won't hurt you.'

' Hurt — are you mad, Granger? Come back here!' Draco caught her by the shoulder and pulled her back. 'It's going to hurt you !'

'I must agree,' said the Scarecrow from behind another apple tree a good ten metres away from them, his voice still unsteady. 'Seeking out the source of danger is not something I would recommend, my friends.'

'Shhh!' Hermione hissed, shrugging herself loose. 'No, you don't understand!' she said quietly and continued her approach, cooing and talking softly at the crying lion.

Draco muttered something under his breath but followed her anyway — a few steps behind, his wand at the ready.

The lion, meanwhile, had retreated further. He was shaking in fright deep in the Flutterby Bush, hiding his eyes behind large paws, crying so loudly that more creatures could be heard scuttling away on the forest floor.

'Don't be scared. We won't harm you,' Hermione crooned softly, carefully edging closer. Slowly, she extended an arm, her palm open in an inviting gesture. She was now so close that she could almost touch the wild animal with the tips of her fingers. Draco inhaled sharply, and more sparks erupted from his wand.

The lion started wailing again. 'NOOOOOOO!'

'Oh no, don't be scared.' Hermione settled onto her knees to make herself level with the large cat. She reached out and gently touched one of its huge paws. It lowered one and they could hear the Scarecrow muttering in the background.

'Have you got a death wish?' Draco's voice was quivering just slightly. 'It's a lion ! It is we who are scared. Not that monster!'

'Shush, Draco. Don't be rude!'

'Ru— Are you utterly —'

The lion peeked up at them and blinked. 'Oh no, I'm sorry! I didn't mean to scare you.' He sat onto his large hind-quarters so abruptly that Draco unwittingly stumbled a few steps back.

'Please don't worry, you poor thing. You are large and loud,' Hermione said calmly and stretched out her hand. 'That's what had us frightened for a second.'

'I scared you ?' the lion whined. 'B-b-but how could I? I am the one who's frightened.'

Draco snorted derisively. 'Because you're a lion, you utterly stupid creature.'

'Why is he being so meaaaaaan to me?' The lion howled and hid behind his paws again.

Hermione frowned seriously at Draco. 'Stop it, will you? Unbelievable. You poor thing,' she said directed at the Lion. 'You must be really lonely, all by yourself.'

The Lion sniffed and nodded, and Hermione scratched his ears. It started purring loudly, lifting its giant head to lean more into Hermione's caress. It was then that she noticed the thorn that had buried itself into one of his paws. Carefully, Hermione extracted it and bandaged the wound with a piece of cloth she had transfigured from a few fallen leaves.

Draco narrowed his eyes at the scene, shaking his head in disbelief.

'Why don't you join us?' Hermione said after she had patched him up. She was stroking his fur and the lion purred contentedly.

'Are you daft, Granger? What are you doing inviting that—'

'J-j-join you?' said the Lion timidly. His tail twitched as he considered Hermione through large, kind eyes.

'Of course!' Hermione said, scratching his ears again and his tail twitched again. Draco groaned. 'We're on our way to Emerald City to seek out the Great Wizard.'

'Oh, what do you want to do there?'

Hermione scrambled to stand, explaining all about why she and Draco needed his help. The Lion followed suit, never taking his large, golden eyes off her.

'And I want to ask the Great Wizard for a brain,' said the Scarecrow and bowed, though not as deeply as he had before. He also kept a wary eye on the Lion.

'I don't think I should leave his forest,' said the Lion sadly. 'I've been here my entire life and leaving sounds like a frightful idea.'

'You've got us!' said the Tin Man energetically.

'A lion without courage.' Draco scoffed, shaking his head. 'Have you ever seen such a pathetic creature. Maybe you should ask the Wizard for bravery,' he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

'Bravery?' The Lion wagged its tail, looking at Hermione again. 'Do you think I could ask for bravery?'

'Brilliant idea,' said Hermione, patting the Lion's head and beaming at Draco. He turned his head away and scowled. 'Let's go to the Great Wizard, the five of us.'

The Tin Man seemed happy enough to let the Lion join, and even the Scarecrow could be persuaded that the Lion wasn't as dangerous as he appeared to be. It certainly helped that he had another willing audience for his opinions and observations.

They carefully trekked back through the underwood to the yellow brick road, united by their shared goal. And even though the woods were still shadowy and scary, now that they were five of them— the Tin Man walking boldly at the front carrying his axe, Draco and Hermione right behind him, their wands at the ready, and the Lion and the Scarecrow bringing up the rear — it didn't seem like such a daunting place after all.

A/N: Updates on Wednesdays! Leave me a comment, or come say hi on tumblr, twitter or insta! Much love, Lynx x