"Did you hear that?" whispered Ron, his eyes large with fright.
"I'm not sure. I think so," said Harry, "I probably would have, knowing me." The sounds of the forest had been growing steadily more intense over the last few minutes, or week, or however long it had been.
"Also, your face is a bit purple."
"Shut up, Ron!" snapped Harry, a little worried his teeth would fall out as he did so. "You are the purple one!"
"Hmm..." said Ron. "I think we should move on."
"I vote this way!" shouted Harry, and ran off into the dark at what seemed to Ron an astonishing pace. "I'm off to find mummy and daddy!" he squealed as he receded into the shadows.
Ron stood to follow, but his feet seemed to have turned to treacle and his movements were incredibly sluggish. "Wait for me, wizard boy!" he cried, but Harry was gone.
Then, he was back! "Come on Ron, I saw a shop just over there. My scar hurts."
"Okay," said Ron. "But I don't think... that is, I didn't... I mean, is this all real?"
Harry threw back his head and laughed, a short, hollow sound that rapped against the surrounding trees as if they were doors to other worlds. "Don't you see, Ron? Its whatever we want it to be! It was inside our hearts all along! It was all a dream!"
"What was?" asked Ron, confused.
"That's what you're here to find out," said Harry triumphantly. "I want an answer on my desk by Monday."
Ron considered this, as the forest behind Harry exploded into a monochrome rainbow. "Do you... have a desk?"
"Ron, Ron, Ron, Ron, Ron..." said Harry sadly. "Poor, stupid Ron-Ron. Don't you see yet? This forest is my desk. The trees are paperweights, the grass..." he searched his mind, "quill-tips? Yes, quill-tips. To conclude, the forest is me, and I am the forest, and the forest is a desk."
"I think I understand," said Ron, who didn't.
And off they went, into that interminable night...