(Eng) Weasleys, Pranks and other Curses

37

Although I covered my eyes with both hands and turned my back to the explosion, I was so blind for almost a minute that I sank to my knees to avoid losing my balance.

"Did it work?"

"Better than I expected." Maddie had come down from her platform and was now standing next to our casket. "The ivy is gone, too."

It took me another moment before I could see enough to study the scene being shown. Two wizards in pointed hats and flowing robes. One held a twig in his hand, the other a feather.

They walked up to the huge tree, which on closer inspection didn't look much like the snake willow from the other pictures. On their knees they offered their offerings to the tree and then in the last picture their hands were empty.

"And what kind of tree is that?", I asked Maddie hoping for another brilliant idea, but nothing.

"It doesn't resemble any particular tree, as far as I can tell. The leaves are just stylized and the roots look pretty normal too."

"What's that supposed to tell us? You want me to take feathers and twigs somewhere?", I growled in frustration, kicking a rock at the useless wall.

"There!" Fred checked one last time to make sure George would stay upright before jumping off the coffin. "Did you hear that?"

"Hear what?", I snapped at him unnecessarily viciously.

"You forgot that this isn't a manual, it's a puzzle." As he spoke, he began scanning the base of the wall. "We had to literally walk past snake roots and an angry bird." Something clicked. "And now we have to return our prey." Fred slid aside, exposing a drawer of some sort. I stepped closer and saw a print I knew better than anyone.

"You want me to put the wand in there?"

Fred shrugged. "Did you get it from here?"

"No. The body in the coffin had it in his hand."

"Then maybe it's worth a try? I hope you have your other wand with you in case something goes wrong?"

I hadn't. But I didn't have a choice, either. I let the wand slide into the indentation and immediately the drawer closed again.

There was a crunch and a crack. Dust was falling from the ceiling and we were about to flee when the tree from the painting moved forward. At first I didn't understand what was happening, until the stone slowly became rounder and more alive.
Suddenly a realistic tree stood before us, with swaying branches and rustling leaves. Only made of stone.

"That's fine and dandy. But what do we do about the feather? Should I carry the bird up the tree now?"

"Why so grumpy, that's further than you've ever been, isn't it?"

"Yes, but we're running out of time," I hissed to Fred.

George had slid off the coffin and was sitting on the floor.

"Hey Forge," Fred joked. "I think we've accomplished enough for today."

"No, I think I have an idea."

Fred and I exchanged glances. "What are you talking about?"

"There were always two men in all the pictures. Even in the very beginning, we always saw two different men." He pointed to the man lying in profile on the side of the coffin. "This is not the same one pictured on the other side."

I walked around the coffin to make sure it didn't just appear that way because one side was damaged. George was right. It was just tiny details that could easily be blamed on the artist, but I was willing to follow up on any clue.