Harry Potter: Westeros’s Plant Life
0203 The Summer Vacation

Adrian had spent the entire night meticulously documenting every aspect of Lupin's werewolf transformation.

Apart from the creature's somewhat unsightly appearance and the undercurrent of wild instinct that seemed to pulse beneath its skin like a second heartbeat, the werewolf body had almost no flaws that Adrian could determine.

The transformation was, in its own terrifying way, magnificent.

The wild instincts, Adrian noted with scientific fascination, manifested primarily as an insatiable craving for raw meat and an irrepressible urge to howl at the moon's silver face. Yet these primal urges remained completely manageable through human intelligence and willpower.

The advantages, however, were undeniably extraordinary. The werewolf had an almost supernatural constitution. Its defensive capabilities were formidable—Adrian had watched in amazement as minor cuts sealed themselves within minutes. Most remarkable was the creature's pain tolerance; injuries that would cripple a human seemed to barely register in it.

Most importantly for a wizard, Adrian discovered the transformation didn't interfere with spellcasting abilities.

When dawn finally broke, the ethereal moonlight began to fade. Adrian watched as Remus shimmered and contracted, bones reshaping themselves with sickening cracks, fur receding like a tide. Within moments, Remus lay curled on the floor trembling.

Unfortunately, the aftereffects of the werewolf transformation lingered like a curse. Lupin's face was ghostly pale, drained of all color, and his entire body shook with exhaustion. He could barely manage to sit upright, let alone stand steady.

"It seems the werewolf transformation consumed an enormous amount of your magical power and physical energy," Adrian observed, his brow furrowed with concern as he conjured a warm blanket around the shivering man.

Lupin could only manage a weak, helpless smile—his throat too raw from howling to speak. In fact, he looked like this after every transformation.

At that moment, Dobby appeared in front of them with a soft pop. It had carved out a cozy space in the storage room as his personal dwelling, complete with a tiny bed made from old cushions and walls lined with his collection of mismatched socks.

Although Adrian had established normal working hours for Dobby, respecting the elf's need for rest and leisure, Dobby consistently began his duties at the first light of dawn.

This dedication meant that by the time Remus arrived for his duties, Dobby had already completed most of the morning tasks.

Naturally, Adrian had no complaints about this remarkable work ethic. As a competent and compassionate employer, he understood that discouraging his employee's genuine enthusiasm would be counterproductive.

Dobby approached Adrian with his typical mixture of eagerness and anxiety, his large ears drooping as he spoke in a trembling voice. "Dobby... Dobby heard terrible, terrible sounds during the night. Such howling and growling... Dobby was too frightened to come out..."

"Ah, don't worry about, Dobby," Adrian replied casually, "It was probably just wild beasts from the nearby Forest. Nothing serious at all. Our security enchantments won't allow any dangerous creatures to breach the property."

"Really?" Dobby's eyes remained wide with fear, his voice still uncertain. To his exceptionally keen ears, those spine-chilling howls hadn't sounded like any ordinary forest animals.

Adrian nodded with what he hoped was convincing confidence, then gestured toward the still-recovering Lupin. "Please take special care of Remus today, Dobby. He's experiencing some rather severe health issues and will need extra attention and perhaps some strengthening potions."

"Dobby promises to complete your orders with utmost care!" Dobby immediately straightened his back.

Looking at Dobby, a question popped into Adrian's mind. Why weren't house-elves like Dobby, or other magical creatures for that matter, susceptible to lycanthropy?

However, Adrian was merely curious and had no intention of delving deeply into this subject.

That afternoon, with the summer sun blazing mercilessly, Adrian was standing in front of an ordinary-looking wooden cottage on the peaceful outskirts of Hogsmeade village and knocked on the door.

After standing in the oppressive heat for just a few minutes, Adrian felt beads of sweat forming on his forehead.

This was Professor Kettleburn's residence in Hogsmeade. He had heard from Professor McGonagall that Kettleburn's health had been poor recently, so he had made a special trip to visit.

About a minute after his knock, long enough for Adrian to wonder if the professor was even home, muffled sounds finally emerged from within.

The door creaked as it slowly swung inward. A complex mixture of medicinal herbs, brewing potions, and something else wafted out like an invisible fog.

Professor Kettleburn stood in the doorway, but his appearance made Adrian's heart sink.

The once-energetic Care of Magical Creatures professor now seemed like a shadow of his former self. His eyes had sunken deep into their sockets, creating dark hollows that made his face appear skull-like. His hair hung in disheveled silver strands, and his complexion had taken on an unhealthy waxy paleness.

Yet when those hollow eyes focused on Adrian, they still sparkled with unmistakable warmth and intelligence.

"Little Ed!" He exclaimed, his voice carrying joy despite its obvious weakness. "You've come to see me! Come in, come in quickly—the sun's too harsh for lingering on doorsteps."

Adrian entered the wooden house, where the herbal scent was even more intense.

The living room was surprisingly tidy, with several open magazines and newspapers scattered on a coffee table, alongside a quill pen and a pair of reading glasses.

Most notably, a small wooden box beside the coffee table contained a wriggling Flobberworms. Clearly, even in his weakened state, Professor Kettleburn continued caring for magical creatures with devotion.

"Please, sit down, make yourself comfortable," Professor Kettleburn said, gesturing toward a armchair. With a flick of his wand, he made a silver teapot float through the air, pouring steaming tea into the cups.

Adrian accepted the tea with a worried expression.

Though Professor Kettleburn acted as if nothing was wrong, Adrian could still sense his weakness.

"Professor," Adrian set down his teacup gently and gazed at the smiling elderly man, "Professor McGonagall mentioned in her letter that you haven't been feeling well lately. Now that I see you in person... I have to say, her concerns seem well-founded. What exactly has been happening to you?"

Professor Kettleburn's practiced smile faltered for just a moment. Clutching his teacup with both hands as if drawing strength from its warmth, he released a deep, weary sigh.

"It's truly nothing to worry about, Little Ed, Just the inevitable minor ailments that come with old age. Most wizards my age have already departed this world."

"Are they really just minor ailments?"

Adrian asked with suspicious concern.

Though he knew Professor Kettleburn was indeed old in years, when he'd seen him last year, the professor had still been quite sprightly. His physical decline seemed rather rapid.

"Ah, yes, aging... something no one can avoid," Professor Kettleburn smiled with bitter acceptance, raising his left hand to tap thoughtfully against his prosthetic limb. "In this frail body of mine, the healthiest and most reliable part is probably the artificial arm you so gave me."

He extended his artificial limb toward Adrian, saying, "Thanks to this, I can still move and care for my creatures like a person half my age."

Adrian's expression darkened. From Professor Kettleburn's description, his health was indeed declining.

But there wasn't much Adrian could do about it.

Time was the most merciless and inescapable magic in existence—only the most elite and powerful wizards could hope to survive its erosion.

At that moment, Professor Kettleburn suddenly burst into unexpected laughter.

"Don't worry about me, Little Ed," He said cheerfully. "When you reach my age, you'll come to understand—death isn't such a terrifying prospect after all. Besides, things aren't nearly as dire as you imagine. I can guarantee with complete confidence that I've got several good years left in these old bones."

Hearing this reassurance, Adrian could only nod in acceptance, though his concern remained. He was still young and couldn't truly understand the philosophical acceptance that came with a lifetime of experience and accumulated wisdom.

Just then, an unexpected memory surfaced in his mind—the legendary figure of Nicolas Flamel, the most famous alchemist in wizarding history.

News of Nicolas Flamel's death had circulated throughout the Wizarding world since the last year, marking the end of an extraordinary 665-year lifespan made possible by the Philosopher's Stone. But the more Adrian considered it, the more he wondered about the certainty of that news.

Who could truly claim to understand the thoughts and motivations of a 665-year-old sage? Certainly not Adrian, with his few decades of experience.

Perhaps, he thought, Flamel was somewhere in the world at this very moment, living contentedly under a new identity with a completely different name, beginning an entirely fresh chapter of existence. Or perhaps, as he had supposedly said, he was indeed embarking on a grand new adventure called "death."

This line of thinking led Adrian to a startling realization about how superficial and limited his understanding of mortality truly was.

Death remained basically an abstract concept to him, something that happened to others but seemed impossibly distant from his own existence.

But if the genuine chance for immortality were truly placed in front of him, he knew with absolute certainty that he would pursue it without a moment's hesitation. Though he would certainly never resort to the evil and soul-corrupting methods like creating Horcruxes.

This unexpected thought pattern startled even Adrian himself. Despite all his knowledge and magical power, he still had a deep fear of death.

But that was entirely normal and human, wasn't it? If given the choice, who wouldn't want to live forever, to see all the wonders the world might offer, to continue learning and growing indefinitely?

Unless, of course, living itself became more painful and unbearable than the prospect of death.

"Ah, by the way, Little Ed," Professor Kettleburn's voice gently drew Adrian back from his philosophical contemplations to the present moment and the cozy cottage around them.

"I was wondering if you might help me acquire some Dreamless Sleep Potion?" He blinked hopefully, his request carrying a note of embarrassment. "I've been plagued by rather unpleasant and disturbing dreams lately. Oh, and I'm also running low on Pepperup Potion. If you could spare some of that as well, I'd be tremendously grateful."

These were indeed common and widely available potions in the wizarding world. Dreamless Sleep Potion was specifically used to induce deep, peaceful slumber free from the torment of dreams or nightmares, while Pepperup Potion worked to restore one's physical energy and magical vitality.

"Of course, Professor," Adrian responded immediately, reaching into his magically expanded carry-on pocket without hesitation. He took out several bottles of Dreamless Sleep Potion, along with a wooden box containing vials of Pepperup Potion.

If there was one resource Adrian never found himself lacking, it was the collection of potions. If circumstances demanded it, he could probably drink Pepperup Potion like water without making a substantial dent in his supplies.

The leisurely summer vacation, filled with research, worry, and quiet moments of connection, seemed to pass with surprising swiftness.

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