Harry Potter: Westeros’s Plant Life
0204 Remus’s Situation

Two weeks later, on a particularly warm morning...

Adrian stood on the plantation's lawn. In his hands, he carried a wooden bucket filled with dark, irregularly shaped lumps that had an unfortunate resemblance to charcoal briquettes.

He was carefully feeding these mysterious objects to his collection of Chomping Cabbage.

Oh, he would absolutely never admit to another living soul that those unappetizing lumps were actually cookies he had baked by hand this very morning in his kitchen. The memory of flour explosions, burnt edges, and smoke still haunted him with embarrassing clarity.

Why hadn't he simply used magic to bake perfect cookies with flicks of his wand?

The answer was surprisingly simple: to inject some semblance of mundane, human activity into his routine magical existence. There was something oddly satisfying about the physical process of mixing, kneading, and baking, even when the results were spectacularly inedible.

Though his daily life remained basically unchanged despite this cooking adventure, Adrian reflected wryly that he had at least succeeded in creating some genuinely toxic substances. His failed baking experiments had achieved a level of hardness that could probably be classified as a weapon in some jurisdictions.

To properly dispose of these catastrophic cooking experiment failures, Adrian had cleverly mixed them with abundant amounts of growth potion before giving them to his Chomping Cabbage.

As any competent herbologist knew, when properly dosed with growth enhancing potions, Chomping Cabbage could digest almost anything, including, apparently, cookies that had somehow achieved the consistency of granite.

The thought of digestion reminded him of another matter. Speaking of Chomping Cabbage, Harry's cabbage hadn't sent any news recently.

Just as Adrian found himself muttering about this curious absence of letters, the air near the door portal began to shimmer with familiar magical energy. Harry's figure appeared through the door portal.

He ran excitedly to Adrian, holding something up and saying, "Professor, you absolutely must look at this!"

Adrian looked up from his feeding duties with genuine curiosity, setting down the bucket of cookie-disasters. In Harry's eager hands was the latest issue of the Daily Prophet.

The front page featured a large black-and-white photograph of a group of red-headed people standing proudly in front of an ancient Egyptian pyramid, their faces were beaming with happiness.

Adrian immediately recognized every face in the image—it was the Weasley family.

"Daily Prophet Grand Prize!" Harry read the bold headline with excitement. "Arthur Weasley, Head of the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office at the Ministry of Magic, has won the Daily Prophet Grand Prize—the prestigious Galleon Award. Seven hundred Galleons in total prize money!"

Adrian nodded approvingly, a smile spreading across his face. It appeared that the Weasley family had indeed won this prize exactly as events had unfolded in the original timeline, and he felt happy for them.

In fact, while seven hundred Galleons might not sound particularly impressive, it was an absolute fortune for a typical wizarding family living on a modest Ministry salary.

"According to the article, they're planning to use the money for a family vacation to Egypt," Harry said with a pensive, almost dreamy expression. "Can you imagine how wonderful that must be?"

Harry had never gone anywhere beyond the borders of Britain—not during his miserable childhood with the Dursleys, nor since discovering his magical heritage and entering the wizarding world.

Adrian reached out and patted Harry's shoulder gently. "For wizards like ourselves, traveling anywhere in the world is not only possible but also very simple,"

He said encouragingly. "A handful of Floo Powder can transport you across continents in seconds, or we could easily apply for an authorized Portkey. If you want to go to Egypt, we can apply for a Portkey. It's quite easy, and we could be standing in front of the Great Pyramid of Giza by tomorrow morning."

Though Harry's eyes lit up with temptation, he shook his head. He still needed to stay at his aunt's house to recharge whatever protective magic might still be on him. Besides, he didn't want to trouble Adrian.

There would be opportunities in the future.

While Harry returned his attention to the newspaper photograph, examining the happy faces of the Weasley family with pleasure, Adrian found his own gaze drawn to a seemingly insignificant detail in the background of the image. There, on Ron's shoulder sat a rather fat, ordinary-looking rat with graying fur and small, dark eyes.

That was Scabbers and, if Adrian's knowledge of future events remained accurate, the key to one of the most shocking revelations in recent wizarding history.

If the original plot continued to unfold as destined, a critically important storyline would begin unraveling this summer: the prison break of Sirius Black.

The catalyst for these events would be Black's recognition that the rat on Ron's shoulder was actually Peter Pettigrew.

Adrian suspected this event would still occur according to the timeline he remembered, but even if fate somehow deviated from its predicted course, he had already decided to find an appropriate moment to reveal the truth himself.

After all, it was rather disturbing to consider that poor Ron had been unknowingly sharing his bed with a middle-aged, balding man magically transformed into rodent form every single night for years.

The thought of Sirius Black brought a vivid memory rushing back to Adrian's mind—a haggard face with hollow, haunted eyes, unkempt black hair, and the eerie stare of someone who had endured unimaginable psychological torment.

Adrian had actually encountered Black before, during his time investigating Azkaban. While searching for information about his sister's attacker, Adrian had spent some time investigating in Azkaban. That's when he encountered Black.

However, their interaction had been brief, Black had given him a single, cold glance with those before becoming completely motionless.

That afternoon, Harry stared blankly at a piece of parchment, a cauldron, and a large bag of sorted potion ingredients.

Ancient Runes was proving to be an extraordinarily complex and maddeningly difficult subject to understand, at least, that was Harry's increasingly desperate assessment of the situation.

He had diligently read "Ancient Runes Made Easy" cover to cover multiple times, his eyes scanning the same passages repeatedly until they began to blur together. Despite his best efforts and determination to succeed, he still felt as though he understood absolutely nothing of matter.

The knowledge seemed to hover just above his head before immediately departing, showing no intention of entering his frustrated brain.

Professor Westeros had recently assigned him what should have been a straightforward task: decipher an ancient potion recipe from centuries past, its instructions written entirely in the script of Ancient Runes.

Unfortunately, despite hours of concentrated effort and repeated consultations with his textbook, Harry could only confidently understand the meaning of perhaps a dozen scattered words throughout the entire recipe.

Watching Harry's increasingly frantic attempts to decode the ancient text, Adrian couldn't suppress a knowing smile.

In reality, this particular potion recipe was quite simple and had been specifically chosen as perfectly appropriate for a student just beginning their journey into the world of Ancient Runes.

The recipe itself, while genuinely ancient and historically interesting, served no practical purpose beyond its age and academic value. Its sole effect, when properly brewed, was to temporarily cause the drinker to sprout animal ears of various types, it was a purely cosmetic transformation that had apparently been popular at ancient wizarding festivals and celebrations.

Sensing Harry's rising frustration and the need for additional motivation, Adrian leaned back in his chair and spoke with encouragement. "If you can successfully complete this potion brewing during your summer vacation, you'll earn yourself a rather special reward."

He paused dramatically, watching Harry's head snap up with sudden attention. "Let me think... how does a three-day tour of Egypt sound?"

Harry's mouth fell open in shock, his eyes widening to the size of dinner plates.

The pressure was real now, but so was the motivation.

As Harry worked with new diligence, frequently muttering incantations under his breath and making careful notes in the margins of his textbook, evening gradually fell.

Dobby had efficiently completed his daily tasks and subsequently vanished to unknown, as had become his recent habit. Recently, Dobby often vanished for periods after work.

Of course, this was absolutely his right—Adrian had made it clear from the beginning that he wouldn't interfere with his employee's private life or personal interests, regardless of whether that employee happened to be a house-elf or any other magical being.

When Remus finally emerged from the greenhouse where he'd been tending to some of the more temperamental magical plants, Adrian immediately noticed something subtly different about his demeanor.

He seemed... anxious?

In fact, he had been like this for several days.

Adrian was somewhat puzzled— it wasn't yet time for the next full moon transformation. The lunar cycle was still weeks away from reaching its peak, so Remus' werewolf nature couldn't be the source of his current distress. Had something else happened?

Therefore, as Remus was preparing to leave called out to him. "Remus, is something troubling you? You seem distracted lately."

Remus' steps faltered and he paused. He turned around and, after a moment's hesitation, said, "Actually, I'm planning to resign, Adrian."

"Resign?"

Adrian felt genuinely surprised by this unexpected development.

He couldn't simply allow Remus to resign—if REmusresigned, then..

Wait, it actually wouldn't matter much.

Though it sounded somewhat harsh to acknowledge, Dobby's incredible efficiency and tireless work ethic meant that the it could now handle almost all of the plantation's daily operations single-handedly.

"Let me guess, Remus," Adrian said, suddenly realizing something. "Someone has presented you with a considerably better professional opportunity, haven't they?"

"Yes," Remus responded with automatic honesty, then immediately caught himself and shook his head awkwardly, his cheeks flushing slightly with embarrassment.

"I mean... well, you'll inevitably discover the truth eventually. Several days ago, I received a letter from Professor Dumbledore, expressing his hope that I would consider accepting the position of Defense Against the Dark Arts professor at Hogwarts."

Adrian nodded thoughtfully, his expression showing no surprise at this. The pieces of the puzzle were falling into place exactly as he might have predicted.

It seemed that with the notoriously cursed Defense Against the Dark Arts position proving impossible to fill with qualified candidates, Dumbledore had finally set his sights on Remus as a potential solution.

"While I certainly don't object to your career advancement," Adrian said carefully, "you should be aware that this isn't a position just anyone can handle successfully. You must be aware that none of Hogwarts' previous Defense Against the Dark Arts professors have met particularly good ends over the past several decades."

Remus nodded with understanding, his expression showing that he'd already given this reality considerable thought.

"I'm well aware of the position's unfortunate history," He sighed deeply. "That's precisely why I'm still carefully considering the offer rather than accepting immediately. But I feel as though my continued employment here serves no purpose anymore. Dobby can handle all the necessary work with far greater efficiency than I could ever achieve. I've become redundant."

Adrian was deep in thought as he processed Remus' words and emotional state.

Remus was, without question, an extremely responsible and conscientious person, someone who took his obligations seriously and never sought to take advantage of others' generosity.

He could easily choose to stay at the plantation, drawing a comfortable salary for minimal work—after all, Adrian would never dismiss him, and the wages were more than sufficient to maintain a decent standard of living.

However, a Hogwarts professorship was indeed an excellent opportunity, especially for someone in Remus' position. There weren't many jobs suitable for werewolves.

The cruel reality was that there simply weren't many career paths available to werewolves in the wizarding world. Most employers would refuse to hire someone with his condition, regardless of their qualifications or character.

Of course, teaching probably wasn't the most obviously appropriate profession for a werewolf either, given the potential dangers to students during transformation periods.

But since Hogwarts fell under Dumbledore's authority and protection, if the headmaster declared it acceptable and manageable, then it undoubtedly was.

As Adrian watched Remus' leaving figure walking slowly, he stroked his chin thoughtfully.

So, Hogwarts would indeed welcome a werewolf professor.

But then again, perhaps that was exactly the kind of 'personal' experience with dark creatures that the position truly required.

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