"Noooooo!" Ron yelled, swinging the steering wheel around; they missed the dark stone wall by inches as the car turned in a great arc, soaring over the dark greenhouses, then the vegetable patch, and then out over the black lawns, losing altitude all the time.

Ron let go of the steering wheel completely and pulled his wand out of his back pocket-

"STOP! STOP!" he yelled, whacking the dashboard and the windshield,
but they were still plummeting, the ground flying up toward them-

"WATCH OUT FOR THAT TREE!" Harry bellowed, lunging for the steering wheel, but too late-

CRUNCH.

"Are you okay?" Harry said urgently.

"My wand," said Ron, in a shaky voice. "Look at my wand-"

It had snapped, almost in two; the tip was dangling limply, held on by a few splinters.

Harry opened his mouth to say he was sure they'd be able to mend it up at the school, but he never even got started. At that very moment, something hit his side of the car with the force of a charging bull, sending him lurching sideways into Ron, just as an equally heavy blow hit the roof.
"What's happen-?"

Ron gasped, staring through the windshield, and Harry looked around just in time to see a branch as thick as a python smash into it. His hands were scraped and bleeding from the flying glass shards. The tree they had hit was attacking them. Its trunk was bent almost double, and its gnarled boughs were pummeling every inch of the car it could reach.

"Run for it!" Ron shouted, throwing his full weight against his door, but next second he had been knocked backward into Harry's lap by a vicious uppercut from another branch. Ron's bat Scabbers let out a screech and clawed his way out of Ron's pocket. He landed on Harry's thumb, and Harry thought he felt a sharp nip on one of his bloodied fingers, but he quickly put the thought out of mind as the tree walloped the Anglia's hood again. The car had reached the end of its rope. It unceremoniously ejected the boys and their luggage, then sped off into the Forbidden Forest.

"Can you believe our luck?" said Ron miserably, bending down to pick up his bat Scabbers, who was screeching frantically. "Of all the trees we could've hit, we had to get one that hits back."
He glanced over his shoulder at the ancient tree, which was still flailing its branches threateningly, and he stuffed the flailing bat into his pocket.

"Come on," said Harry, feeling suddenly sick to his stomach, "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.

"I think the feast's already started," said Ron. Harry hurried over and, together, he and Ron peered in at the Great Hall.

"Hang on..." Harry muttered to Ron. "There's an empty chair at the staff table... Where's Snape?"

"Maybe he's ill!" said Ron hopefully.

"Maybe he's left," said Harry, "because he missed out on the Defense Against the Dark Arts job again!"

"Or he might have been sacked!" said Ron enthusiastically. "I mean, everyone hates him-"

"Or maybe," said a very cold voice right behind them, "he's waiting to hear why you two didn't arrive on the school train."

Harry spun around. There, his black robes rippling in a cold breeze, stood Severus Snape. He was a thin man with sallow skin, a hooked nose, and greasy, shoulder-length black hair, and at this moment, he was smiling in a way that told Harry he and Ron were in very deep trouble.

"Follow me," said Snape.

Not daring even to look at each other, Harry and Ron followed Snape away from the warmth and light, down a narrow stone staircase that led into the dungeons.

"In!" he said, opening a door halfway down the cold passageway and pointing.

They entered Snape's office, shivering. The shadowy walls were lined with shelves of large glass jars, in which floated all manner of revolting things Harry didn't really want to know the name of at the moment. The fireplace was dark and empty. Snape closed the door and turned to look at them.

"So," he said softly, "the train isn't good enough for the famous Harry Potter and his faithful sidekick, Weasley. Wanted to arrive with a bang, did we, boys?"

"No, sir, it was the barrier at King's Cross, it-"

"Silence!" said Snape coldly. "What have you done with the car?"

Ron gulped. This wasn't the first time Snape had given Harry the impression of being able to read minds. But a moment later, he understood, as Snape unrolled today's issue of the Evening Prophet.

"You were seen," he hissed, showing them the headline: FLYING FORD ANGLIA MYSTIFIES MUGGLES.
"I noticed, in my search of the park, that considerable damage seems to have been done to a very valuable Whomping Willow," Snape went on.

"That tree did more damage to us than we-" Ron blurted out.

"Silence!" snapped Snape again. "Most unfortunately, you are not in my House and the decision to expel you does not rest with me. I shall go and fetch the people who do have that happy power. You will wait here."

Harry and Ron stared at each other, white-faced. Harry felt extremely sick. He tried not to look at a large, slimy something suspended in green liquid on a shelf behind Snape's desk. If Snape had gone to fetch Professor McGonagall, head of Gryffindor House, they were hardly any better off. She might be fairer than Snape, but she was still extremely strict.

Ten minutes later, Snape returned, and sure enough it was Professor McGonagall who accompanied him.

"Sit," she said.

"Explain," she directed, her glasses glinting ominously.

Ron launched into the story, starting with the barrier at the station refusing to let them through.
"-so we had no choice, Professor, we couldn't get on the train."

"Why didn't you send us a letter by owl? I believe you have an owl?" Professor McGonagall said coldly to Harry.

Harry gaped at her. Now she'd said it, that seemed the obvious thing to have done. Blood rushed in his ears.

"I-I didn't think-"

"That," said Professor McGonagall, "is obvious."

There was a knock on the office door and Snape, now looking happier than ever, opened it. There stood the headmaster, Professor Dumbledore. Harry suddenly found himself wishing he and Ron were still being beaten up by the Whomping Willow. Then again, he sort of felt like he was still being bludgeoned by its branches.

"We'll go and get our stuff," said Ron in a hopeless sort of voice, nervously patting Scabbers through his pocket.

"What are you talking about, Weasley?" barked Professor McGonagall.

"Well, you're expelling us, aren't you?" said Ron.

Harry looked quickly at Dumbledore.

"Not today, Mr. Weasley," said Dumbledore. "It will be for Professor McGonagall to decide on your punishments."

Snape shot a look of pure venom at Harry and Ron as Professor McGonagall nodded once, sharply.

"You'd better get along to the hospital wing, Weasley, you're bleeding," she observed. Without meaning to, Harry sought out Ron's wounds with his eyes. Snape's countenance changed dramatically from an incensed scowl to a thoughtful frown as the man followed Harry's gaze.

"S'not much," said Ron, hastily wiping the cut over his eye with his sleeve. "Professor, I wanted to watch my sister being Sorted-"

"The Sorting Ceremony is over," said Professor McGonagall. "Your sister is also in Gryffindor."

"Oh, good," said Ron. At that, Professor McGonagall took him by the arm and led him out of the office, leaving Harry staring between Snape and Dumbledore. It seemed as if they were having a wordless conversation over his head. He fought back another wave of nausea and stood. Cautiously, he turned to follow Ron and his Head of House.

"Just one moment, Potter," Snape drawled.

Harry faltered at the door. His head was pounding. Down the corridor, he could hear Ron telling Professor McGonagall about his broken wand.

"Sir?"

"Sit back down, Harry," Dumbledore said. Harry complied, crossing back to one of the spindly black chairs in front of Snape's desk and collapsing into it. His stomach was heaving. And his head felt like it was going to split open. Dumbledore dipped his chin to Snape.

"Potter," Snape began, steepling his hands, "do you feel...different in any way?"

Harry shrugged a shoulder noncommittally. He'd had worse pains than a throbbing head, an aching stomach, and some shallow scratches.

"I feel...sort of sick," he said. Snape looked at him carefully. Harry didn't like the way Snape's black eyes seemed to be staring directly into his thoughts. Unsettled, Harry watched Snape wordlessly summon a small vial from a shelf. Harry found his eyes inexplicably drawn to the thick, dark red liquid inside. Subconsciously, he ran his tongue over his top teeth.

"I don't believe it," murmured Snape, turning the vial over in his hands.

"I'm afraid I do, Severus...but how could this have happened?" Dumbledore asked aloud. Both men were regarding Harry intently. For his part, Harry was transfixed by the sight of the small vial. Without thinking, he reached for it, but Snape was quicker, moving it out of his grasp. Harry growled-growled-in frustration. He needed that vial! Suddenly, it exploded in Snape's hand. Snape let out a hiss of pain and shook the glass shards from where they'd embedded in his palm.
Completely out of control, Harry launched himself across the desk at Snape with a feral snarl. He could see Snape's eyes widen in surprise.

"Harry!" Dumbledore said. Harry found himself unable to move any further towards Snape. He looked up at Dumbledore as if he'd forgotten he was still there. With two quick flicks of his wand, Snape cast an Episkey on his wounded hand and a Tergeo on the red liquid from the vial that was seeping into his black robes and pooling onto the desk.
Harry gradually gained control of his ragged breathing and slowly sat back down. His head was pounding, so he rested it in his hands, afraid to look either man in the eye. What just happened?

"It is as we thought, Headmaster," Snape said cryptically. Harry tried to take deep breaths, scared of losing control again.

"Ah, yes. I fear this may be...slightly problematic," Dumbledore said.