Do or Die (HP FF)

A Weeping Willow

A/N: Tell me what you think about third person POV. I think it's easier to write in. And also, I'm asking one vote or comment for the next chapter. Enjoy! :D

PS: Whoever can count how many times I use the word "tree" in the chapter, it'll be dedicated to you! :D Well, I'm too lazy to count to make sure, so whoever comments close enough to what I think it is will get a dedication. xD

The Hospital Wing was filled to the brim for there only being one patient. Sunlight filtered in from the curtainless windows, making the room even more blinding than usual. The visitors felt our of place in the pristine hospital, even if they didn't acknowledge the feeling for what it was. 

Gaulda Mac, the single occupant, was currently unaware of all the people and commotion around her. She lay, completely out of it, on the stiff bed in the middle of the room. Her hair was halfway between a dark chestnut and vibrant orange, making it a deep auburn. Gaulda had discovered that her hair didn't mostly change because of her powers, but it was a fight or flight reaction. When Gaulda felt angry or scared, her hair would change to orange, and her normal obsidian eyes would morph into it's near polar opposite - yellow. She - and many others - weren't sure why these things happened, or even why they were the colors that they were. 

Every single person was one of Gaulda's students. Everyone except one. Professor Albus Dumbledore, headmaster of the very magical (no pun intended) school. He sat, worriedly at her bedside. The once uncomfortable wooden chair was now a soft, upholstered armchair. Albus was shocked. This girl really  was special, and he thought he owed it to her to tell the truth - and soon, before she almost (or actually) dies. 

Students talked amongst themselves, mostly about why they (and Gaulda) were in the Hospital Wing. They exchanged stories, some even being ridiculous enough to say that Gaulda challenged a Cornish Pixie Queen and lost brutally. Another said that Hagrid tried to cook her in a pie like Hansle and Grettle. The latter coming from some muggleborn Hufflepuffs who knew the fairytale. 

Unknown to the world, Gaulda was in the realm of the dead, visiting someone who had waited a long time to meet her. 

---

Gaulda didn't know she was in the hospital. SHe didn't know that around fifty students were surrounding her, or that the headmaster himself was awaiting her to return. All's she knew was that she was standing in front of a pretty willow tree that could talk. 

A blue sky was painted above Gaulda and the tree. They were the only things in sight, besides the tall, waist-high, yellow-ish grass. A big, rumbling voice sounded through the air, much like thunder. 

"Gaulda Mac..."

Gaulda looked around in surprise. She noticed thta nothing else was there, so she decided that it was the tree who'd spoke. "Yes?" she asked hesitantly.

Thunder rumbled once again on a clear, cloudless day. "I have been waiting for you, Gaulda Mac. Do  you know who I am?"

Gaulda looked up skeptically, "Some old tree?"

A chuckle escaped from the tree; the very branches seemed to be laughing, and the leaves giggling. "Yes, but what kind?" it inquired. 

"A Weeping Willow, of course."

"Yes. Do you recognise me?"

Gaulda studied the tree, and both were silent for a few moments. Suddenly, it dawned on her. "You're the Whomping Willow from Hogwarts!"

"Correct, child. Do you know why we are called Weeping Willows?"

Gaulda thought hard. "Well, it seems like a sad name. Are the trees sad?"

"Yes, Gaulda. The trees are very sad. Let me tell you a story.

"Long ago, a girl named Willow lived in a town near Hogwarts. I think you call it Hogsmeade? Yes, Hogsmeade. Anyways, Willow was young, and didn't know right from wrong. She was a witch, and she knew it. Willow spent most of her time talking to herself and ripping wings off of butterflies. She scared everyone in town, which didn't help her reputation. To them, she was a freak. Now keep in mind, this was when witch burnings were happening, yet Willow was so open about being one. 

Well one day, another witch found Willow ripping off insect wings and putting them into boiling water. She was making a potion, of course. But this witch was a vegan, and believed that you shouldn't hurt anything that can feel pain. 

"You are a wicked girl," she said, and put a curse on the girl. 

The witch cursed Willow into a tree.

As Willow's arms and hair were changing into branches, her torso into the trunk, and her legs into roots, she was crying. 

"You vile, evil woman!" she cried.

And as she turned into a tree, her tears became striations on the bark, her face staying etched vividly into the trunk, like a carving."

Gaulda looked horrified. "The Weeping Willow," she whispered.

"Yes. And I am her great-great-great grandson. Honestly, being a tree slows down the aging process, so I am just as old as you, if not a little older.

Gaulda's eyes grew wide. "I-I'll help you! I'll free you!"

"You know you can't," he replied sadly. "An eye for an eye, a life for a life. Her family was cursed. However many insects she killed was how many generations were trees."

Gaulda looked down defeated, before brightening up once more. "Let me take your place! I've done enough living, and you haven't done any yet. Well, not as a human, anyways. 

"No," he said firmly. "It's time for you to go. Until next time, Gaulda Mac..."

"Wait!"

But the world was already fading away, leaving Gaulda in darkness.