Times Of Her Blood

Thirty Seven | Define Rumours

Minerva clamped a hand over her mouth, eyes wide, "What in Merlin's name is that?"

Laurel bit back her smirk, clamping a hand over her mouth as she reached to pick up her jacket with the other, "I'll be going now..."

"Not so fast, Black," Snape drawled, stepping forwards and halting down at her with his soulless black eyes, "You know something about... this. And you have some explaining of your own to do about that," he first featured to the sky, and then the motorbike.

"Yeah," she shot him a sheepish grin, "But the most important thing right now is getting Professor McGonagall somewhere warm and dry where she can recuperate and I think you should take her!"

Before he could respond she was gone, sprinting in the direction that the object overhead was heading for.

"Shit," she mumbled once her eyes landed on the blue car's target.

The branches twisted and turned, as though anticipating its first contact with anything in a very long time.

There were rumours about the Whomping Willow, most of which were actually true.

None of them were exaggerated.

After all, it got its name for a damned good reason.

Although she wasn't sure whomping was the best way to describe it, however poetic it may have been.

More like a thrashing, violent death trap that shouldn't be on any school grounds, magical or not.

Then again, the school was built next to a dark forest, named the Forbidden Forest. Come on, it wasn't just Laurel that decided on her very first week to go and check the place out.

It was almost like Dumbledore had deliberately said it so that he'd have enough seats for everyone in the Great Hall.

No doubt about it, now that she came to think of it. His fault, really, that Emiline Collins got herself all bruised up after a midnight stroll, whether she practically jumped into the deepest part of the forest or not.

It had been Laurel that had found her. An awful year, second year was. Though it was one of the most hilarious times for pranking Hogwarts had ever seen.

Although thinking about that wasn't helping the two second years currently speeding in a flying classic to their deaths.

She couldn't exactly think of any spells that may have been useful, seeing as her wand was safely tucked in her soaking wet bag with her soaking wet school uniform (nothing nobody couldn't sort out at the right moment, obviously).

She could hear Ron's faint screams as the two hurtled towards the tree, and she winced.

Clearly, she hadn't been running fast enough. That and she's been distracted, but they didn't need to know that.

Judging by the screams, they weren't dead yet.

Not exactly comforting, though.

She winced again and again when the Whomping Willow had finished stretching its muscles, now beating down on the struggling car.

The two seemed to have minds of their own, really.

"Get out of the car, idiots!" She yelled, but it wasn't any good.

Thankfully, however, the car got itself free, much to the Whomping Willow (and Snape's) dismay.

***

Slam.

The newspaper landed on the desk, right infront of their faces. Ron jumped, still looking a little skittish after the run in with the Whomping Willow.