XXXII. THE WHOMPING WILLOW

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At that very moment, something hit Mia's side of the car with the force of a charging bull, sending her lurching sideways into Ron, just as an equally heavy blow hit the roof. 

"What's happen. . . .?" Ron gasped, staring through the windshield, and Mia looked around just in time to see a branch as thick as a python smash into it. 

The tree they had hit was attacking them. Its trunk was bent almost double, and its gnarled boughs were pummelling every inch of the car it could reach. 

"Aaargh!" said Ron as another twisted limb punched a large dent into his door. The windshield was now trembling under a hail of blows from knuckle-like twigs and a branch as thick as a battering ram was pounding furiously on the roof, which seemed to be caving in. 

"Run for it!" Ron shouted, throwing his full weight against his door, but next second he had been knocked backward into Mia's lap by a vicious uppercut from another branch. "We're done for!" he moaned as the ceiling sagged, but suddenly the floor of the car was vibrating. The engine had restarted. 

"Reverse!" Harry yelled, and the car shot backward. 

"Fucking move!" Mia yelled. 

The tree was still trying to hit them. They could hear its roots creaking as it almost ripped itself up, lashing out at them as they sped out of reach. 

"That," panted Ron, "was close. Well done, car. . . ." 

The car, however, had reached the end of its tether. With two sharp clunks, the doors flew open and Mia felt her seat tip sideways. Next thing she knew she was sprawled on the damp ground. Loud thuds told her that the car was ejecting their luggage from the trunk. 

Prongs and Hedwig's cage flew through the air and burst open. They rose out of it with an angry screech and sped off toward the castle without a backward look. Then, dented, scratched, and steaming, the car rumbled off into the darkness, its rear lights blazing angrily. 

"Come back!" Ron yelled after it, brandishing his broken wand. "Dad'll kill me!" 

But the car disappeared from view with one last snort from its exhaust. 

"Can you believe our fucking luck?" said Mia as Ron bent down to pick up Scabbers. "Of all the trees we could've hit, we had to get one that hits back." 

She glanced over her shoulder at the ancient tree, which was still flailing its branches threateningly. 

"Come on," said Harry wearily, "we'd better get up to the school. . . ." 

It wasn't at all the triumphant arrival they had pictured. Stiff, cold, and bruised, they seized the ends of their trunks and began dragging them up the grassy slope, toward the great oak front doors. 

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