The Difference in Reality [A Harry Potter Fanfiction]

Year 1: Chapter 14

Willow wiped the sweat off her brow. It was only six thirty in the morning, yet the sun was blazing hot on her black robes already. That day was going to be quite hot. Norbert would love it- if he was allowed out of Hagrid's hut.

Willow had been doing all of Hagrid's gamekeeping duties for him. He was stuck caring for Norbert all day, every day, and barely got to sleep each night. Hagrid was still looking through rose-colored glasses for the whole situation, which Willow liked. If either one of them were as negative as her trio of friends, Norbert could be killed multiple ways, whether by wizards' hands or not. The creature had stolen Willow's and Hagrid's hearts. Norbert was not going anywhere until they could find a more suitable place for him to live or a better way for Hagrid to take care of him.

For the time being, Willow scraped out heaps of soil with a trowel of inadequate size for the amount of work she was doing. There were a lot more gardens than she thought at Hogwarts. Some of them were blooming with beautiful flowers, others interesting and unique plants, and some with plants that Willow was careful not to get impaled by. Those were reserved for Hagrid when he caught a break and could hand Norbert over to her for an hour or two.

Willow transferred five more plants (all of which tried to hug her to death- or suffocate her, either way, really), then stood up and shook out her knees. They were sore and tired from all the bending she was doing recently. She really wished that her powers would work on the soil. Willow had tried more times than she could count to move the soil, but only succeeded in removing worm and insect populations from the soil. Apparently her powers were limited to life forms only. Useful, yet frustrating.

Willow looked over the rows upon rows of magical plants in the greenhouse. They were perfectly potted, all of them mumbling or purring in their funny ways to show satisfaction. She couldn't believe she woke up at five that morning, started gardening at five fifteen, and was just finishing at a little after seven. Willow had forgotten how long it took her to keep up with her greenhouse at home. It was a lot of work.

She had one more thing to do before she could visit Hagrid again. There were a few trees not far into the Forbidden Forest that Hagrid wanted Willow to introduce herself to. Of course, they were dangerous, but Hagrid never explained exactly how dangerous they were, so she was going to be on her guard. These trees were special ones, and the fact that they grew in a small grove was rare, almost never heard of. They were super defensive and required a long time to warm up to new visitors, Hagrid had said, so she had better introduce herself now that she was going to be taking care of them for a few weeks. Willow had special permission from Hagrid to go into the Forest whenever necessary, but it's not like she had cared about the rule of staying out of it before.

The Forest was really pretty in the spring. There were shocks of color against the dark branches, buds and tiny leaves that had grown- reds, greens, yellows, oranges, browns, and mixes as the leaves fully resumed their positions in the treetops. The early morning sun shined through the branches, lighting up the Forest with a more warm and welcoming light than usual. Willow inhaled deeply, letting her senses become overwhelmed with all the sweet scents of spring in the Forest. Springtime was more amazing at Hogwarts than it had ever been at home.

Well, at least since her mother had left.

Willow continued along the trail, sticking to the middle as to not stray off. She found a small cleared out path that was covered in extra-large boot prints and took that. Hagrid had said that the trees would be about a quidditch pitch farther. Willow hoped he was right. Something inside her hinted that he was.

A tugging suddenly brought Willow to her knees. The pain was so sudden and intense, as if she had been shot. She cried out and squeezed her hands into fists, desperately pressing on her chest to keep its airways open. Nothing helped. The longer she writhed in pain, the worse it got. Her feet tingled with a sort of longing. Or was it because of a lack of oxygen?