However, things did not go as they had hoped.
The willow's crying did not stop.
Instead, its silent sobbing turned into violent wails laced with anger.
"Boo-hoo-!"
The air of sorrow instantly grew several times stronger.
The willow branches, which had hung softly downward, suddenly went taut, lashing savagely at the ground like countless angry green whips.
"Crack! Crack! Crack!"
Mud and tears splattered everywhere, and the branches formed an impassable, wildly thrashing barrier before them.
"Hey!" Fred stumbled back, his face splashed with muddy water. "Those were top-notch jokes!"
"Maybe it's a Slytherin," George said indignantly, wiping his face. "It just can't understand our sophisticated sense of humor."
The students exchanged looks. No one dared step forward again.
Angelina looked at the tree, angry with sorrow, then at the helpless twins, and sighed.
She slowly stepped forward without dodging the lashing branches.
Strangely, as she approached with genuine concern, the wildly dancing branches miraculously slowed, taking care to avoid her body.
Angelina reached out both arms and gently embraced the cold, rough trunk.
She closed her eyes and pressed her cheek against the damp bark, as though embracing a crying friend.
"I remember the first time I won a Quidditch match..."
Her voice was soft, yet carried a strength that could pierce through all the noise.
"It was in my third year, against Ravenclaw. The moment the Quaffle went through the final hoop and the whistle blew to end the match..."
"The whole world went quiet for a second."
"Then the Gryffindor stands erupted like a volcano."
"I couldn't make out any individual sounds. There was only a red-and-gold tidal wave rushing toward me."
"The wind whistled past my ears, and my heart pounded in my chest. That feeling..."
The corners of Angelina's mouth lifted involuntarily, and a captivating