By December, the weather at Hogwarts had turned bitterly cold.
Outside the Castle, an icy wind blew. Last night's snow had yet to melt completely, leaving patches of white across the grass. George and Fred trudged along with their heads down. They had to help Professor Sprout tend the Whomping Willow.
Tending the Whomping Willow was nothing like repotting Mandrakes or watering Venomous Tentacula.
Its bare, menacing branches thrashed silently in the cold wind, as if it had sensed its "victims" approaching. It radiated savage impatience.
Professor Sprout was already waiting. She wore thick, mud-caked Dragonhide Gloves and a warm scarf. Her round face held its usual kindness, but her eyes were firmly serious.
"Good morning, Mr. Weasleys," she called in a booming voice. "I hope you ate a good breakfast. You'll need plenty of strength today. Oh, and stay alert."
"Good morning, Professor Sprout..." the twins replied weakly, staring at the willow as though it might attack at any moment.
"First, the most important rule." Professor Sprout stopped at a relatively safe distance and pointed at the Whomping Willow. "Never, ever approach it head-on or try to pass through its branches while it's 'awake.' See that knot at the base of the trunk?"
George and Fred squinted. Among the twisted bark and frozen mud, they could just make out a small, slightly darker bump.
"That's its weak point—or its switch." Professor Sprout held up a long rake. "Use a long-handled tool, like the back of this rake, to jab the knot hard. Be quick and accurate, then retreat immediately!"
Fred and George exchanged a glance, eager but nervous.
"George, you go first. Be careful." Professor Sprout handed George a thick set of black protective gear. "Put this on first."
George took a deep breath, gripped the rake's wooden handle