The Treant with a Mind of Its Own
The Golden Crow Wood trees around the camp seemed to be seized by invisible hands and pulled from the ground.
They rose, section by section.
The earth rumbled as it churned. Dark yellow Earth Qi escaped through the cracks, then streamed into the Wizard Tower like water into a whale's maw, where it was converted into Magic Power.
Behind Hermione, the Magic Pool seemed to boil.
The Treants below the tower drew Magic Power from the pool without pause, while the abundant Earth Qi replenished it. Beads of liquefied Magic Power churned and leaped, then sank back reluctantly, held by the faint cyan glow around the pool. The black Coffin beside it had clearly sensed the disturbance outside. Something inside scratched at its lid with growing agitation.
But the two witches only glanced back.
Once they confirmed that the Yellow Talismans pasted to the Coffin were still giving off a faint light, they turned their attention straight back to the Treants in the camp.
Crack, crack!
Crack, crack, crack!
Fueled by Magic Power, every Golden Crow Wood tree grew taller and thicker before their eyes. Trunks barely as wide as bowls swelled to the width of barrels in a few breaths. Dark golden grain emerged where the bark split, like metal forged a thousand times. Each crown divided into three. The branches on either side twisted, lengthened, and wound together into two sturdy arms. Above them, countless tiny cuts from the leaves gradually carved vague, ancient faces into the trunks.
Rustle, rustle.
They shook the soil from their feet, slowly stood, and stepped over the low wall. Dobby tucked in his wings and curled into a ball, careful not to get in the towering figures' way.
"Whoa! These guys must be ten