In the Forbidden Forest, things were starting to get messy. Harry was rocking back and forth with his knees tucked up to his chest, and Ron was talking to a tree.
"Hello, little one," said the tree. "What a lot of rust on your head."
"That's not rust," objected Ron, who had a strong sense of deja vu. "It's my hair."
"Shut up, Ron," said Harry. "What's all this whispering?"
Ron listened carefully. "I can hear something…"
"I think it's the wind, Harry," said the tree.
"Oh really?" said Harry. "Could the wind do this?" He sprang to his feet, jumping about six inches from the ground and letting out an exultory whoop.
The tree said nothing.
"That's what I thought," smirked Harry. "Now go away before I turn you into a bush."
The tree remained silent.
"You shouldn't be so rude, Harry," reproached Ron as they wandered deeper into the forest. "It could have been a magic tree."
"Do you really think a magic tree would waste its time talking to boring old Ron Weaselface?" laughed Harry. "That's why I like you, Ron. You're stupid and boring."
They walked in silence for a while, both completely lost but strangely unconcerned. Strange howls filled the night, and shadows fell in entirely the wrong directions. Presently they came to a clearing, and what they saw there made them both stop in surprise, for it was more real than anything else they'd seen since eating the cakes.
In the centre of the clearing, apparently unattached to anything, stood a wooden door. It was slightly ajar. And through the gap, they could see a starry sky!