Post by William Alasdair Desmerais on Aug 16, 2011 4:58:53 GMT -6
WORDS; THREE HUNDRED AND FIFTY ONE
The Whomping Willow, a tree that had always intrigued William. His first encounter with the very angry plant was early in his first year, when a group of older students dared him to touch the trunk. Not wanting to be seen as a coward, the stepped forward without question and skipped around the flailing branches to the gnarled, creaking tree trunk. That was the easy part, it was the return journey where things got messy.[/size]
He was almost out of the tree's reach when one of its thorny vines wrapped itself securely around his leg, lifted him fifteen feet up in the air then let go. He landed painfully in a cluster of rocks nearby, surprisingly still in a pretty good condition. The only that reminded him acquired of that stunt still lingered on his lower shin, just above his ankle, in the form of a long, thick white scar.
As soon as he hit the ground, he jumped up and flung his fists in the air as everyone cheered. Some of the girls suggested he see the nurse, but he didn't want to lose face now. The cut where the vine had been was bleeding profusely, but that didn't matter; Will had what he wanted - fame.
With his new-found respect from the older (and younger) students, Will never looked back.
But today he was sitting alone by the same tree that had given him his scar (and reputation). He watched it sway in breeze, looking deceivingly peaceful. Some ways away a bell was ringing, signalling bedtime. Will looked out over the lawns and saw black cloaks blowing in the wind, moving up to the castle at the slowest pace possible. He would go in a bit; first he wanted to enjoy his peace and quiet, then he had to send an owl to Ellie the House Elf. He could have sent it earlier, but there are more hours in the day than Hogwarts lets its students enjoy, so Will was going to do just that - enjoy as much of his time as he could before actually doing anything productive.