Harry Potter: Westeros’s Plant Life
0206 At Durselys

Adrian felt he might be the first wizard in the world to possess two Patronuses.

He was also the first wizard to have a plant-form Patronus.

Although he didn't know what special properties the Tree of Wisdom Patronus possessed, he could clearly feel the warm and powerful force emanating from it.

[Sir, Eldra will always protect you,]

The Tree of Wisdom's gentle voice resonated in his mind.

The corner of Adrian's mouth curved upward slightly. No matter what, this was certainly not a bad thing. He could feel that his connection with the Tree of Wisdom had deepened further.

Dobby stood to the side, staring blankly at everything. It had naturally noticed the enormous tree-shaped Patronus. But it couldn't quite understand what was happening.

"Mr. Westeros," Dobby's voice trembled slightly, showing his attempt to maintain composure, "what... what was that thing?"

Adrian's expression softened as he looked at the distressed elf.

"A friend, Dobby," Adrian said gently. "It's a guardian spirit that will help protect this place and everyone in it. You don't need to worry."

Dobby nodded hesitantly, though his large ears continued to twitch with residual nervousness. It didn't quite understand, but whatever the master said must be correct.

Adrian smiled, waved his wand lightly, and the silver oak Patronus dissolved into points of silver light that scattered in the air.

He wondered how effective this Patronus of his would be against Dementors.

Perhaps he should find time to visit Azkaban for a field test.

Oh, he was already starting to miss that place.

Last time he went, he was only focused on finding someone and didn't get to properly tour that famous wizarding prison.

Over the following days, Adrian discovered that the Tree of Wisdom's Guardian ability had enhanced all aspects of his Patronus magic. Even his ordinary hedgehog Patronus had become much more solid and lifelike than ever before.

More remarkably, Adrian found he could maintain his hedgehog Patronus for longer periods without the usual drain on his magical reserves.

Though he wasn't immediately sure what practical applications this might have, the constant presence of the playful silver creature around his shop significantly improved his daily mood.

Late July.

The clock on Harry's nightstand glowed 1:17 AM. Harry sat hunched over his small desk, his black hair falling into his eyes as he squinted at the notebook spread in front of him.

The pages were covered in his increasingly frustrated attempts at translation, with crossed-out words and eraser marks creating a chaotic academic defeat.

On the nearby table, a frighteningly thick Dictionary of Ancient Runes lay open, looking particularly eye-catching.

"Come on," Harry muttered under his breath, running his fingers through his hair in frustration. "Just a few more symbols..."

He was on the verge of completely deciphering this damned ancient runic potion recipe.

A moment later, Harry slumped back in his chair in defeat.

As expected, he still couldn't manage it...

This kind of mental work was more Hermione's forte.

Speaking of which, Hermione had mentioned at the end of term that she would be vacationing in France this summer.

Hmm, France—he wondered what kind of place that was. Did they have magical schools like Hogwarts there too?

Just as Harry was lost in idle thoughts...

Tap tap tap!

The sound of tapping came from the window.

Harry quickly jumped up from his chair and hurried to the window, eagerly pulling back the curtains.

In the moonlight, several owls were gently pecking at the glass with their beaks, packages and envelopes clutched in their talons.

As soon as Harry opened the window, the owls fluttered into the room, dropping the letters and packages onto his bed.

Today was July 31st—his thirteenth birthday. His friends certainly wouldn't forget to send him birthday presents. Immediately, Harry eagerly unwrapped all the packages.

Ron's gift came wrapped in brown paper that bore Egyptian postal stamps and the scent of foreign spices. Inside, Harry discovered a small Sneakoscope no larger than a spinning top.

A hastily scrawled note explained that Ron's family was having an incredible time exploring the tombs and magical sites of Egypt, funded by their Daily Prophet lottery win. Harry felt a pang of envy reading about pyramid expeditions and encounters with ancient curse-breakers.

Hermione had sent him what he'd always wanted—a set of premium broomstick care tools. A small handbook detailed the proper care of racing brooms, with particular attention to the Nimbus series. Her accompanying letter described the magical marketplaces of Paris and promised to bring him back some rare French magical sweets.

Hagrid had also sent a hand-drawn birthday card featuring what appeared to be a dragon wearing a party hat, accompanied by enough rock-hard toffees to potentially break several teeth. This made Harry's teeth ache just thinking about it.

The final package was Professor Westeros'. He naturally wouldn't forget his birthday either.

Inside, Harry found an elegant tin filled with what appeared to be ordinary black cookies, each one perfectly round and dusted with what looked like powdered charcoal. A small parchment note was attached to the lid in Adrian's handwriting:

"Magic Cooling cookies will keep you cool and refreshed all day during summer.

Be cautious with the amount you eat at once.

Happy Birthday, Harry."

Interested and still feeling sticky from the July humidity, Harry immediately bit into one of the dark cookies. The initial taste was surprisingly bitter, with tings of mint and something earthy he couldn't identify. But within moments, a delicious coolness spread from his throat throughout his entire body, as if he had swallowed a gentle winter breeze.

The oppressive summer heat that had made his small room feel like an oven suddenly became pleasantly cool. Even the stagnant air seemed to freshen, carrying the autumn crispness that made him want to take deep, satisfied breaths.

"Incredible," Harry murmured, marveling at the immediate and thorough effectiveness of this cookie.

Unfortunately, in his enthusiasm, he immediately reached for a second cookie before reading the warning about dosage more carefully. The moment he swallowed it, the pleasant autumn coolness became a bitter winter chill that had him scrambling for his blankets, his teeth even began chattering as if he'd been dunked in the Black Lake in December.

Wrapped in every blanket he owned and still shivering, Harry reached for the final piece of mail, it was a thick envelope bearing the Hogwarts crest. His trembling fingers struggled with the wax seal as he took ouy the familiar parchment containing the standard beginning-of-term notices and his third-year book list.

Harry couldn't help but feel emotional—time passed so quickly. Summer vacation had only one month left in the blink of an eye.

But tucked among the routine paperwork was a notice that made his heart race with excitement, third-year students would now be permitted to visit the village of Hogsmeade on designated weekends.

Harry had heard stories about the only all-magical settlement in Britain from various teachers and older students. Adrian often mentioned stopping at the Three Broomsticks for discussions with Professor Flitwick, and the descriptions of Honeydukes sweet shop had been in Ron's wishful fantasies.

Harry's excitement dimmed as he read—students required written permission from a parent or guardian to participate in Hogsmeade visits.

At this moment, he really wished his guardian was Professor Westeros.

The Dursleys would never willingly sign anything connected to his 'Freak' world... No, maybe they would?

As Harry settled deeper into his blankets, waiting for the magical cookies' effects to wear off, he remembered the changes in his aunt and uncle's behavior since Professor Westeros' visit the previous summer. Their insults had become more muttered complaints than outright verbal abuse, and there was a wariness in their eyes whenever they looked at him.

Yes, they were probably very wary of Professor Westeros.

Perhaps he could use this to get them to sign the permission form...

Harry lay in bed pondering his strategy and soon drifted into sleep.

The next morning, when Harry came downstairs, the Dursley family was gathered around the television eating breakfast.

The morning news buzzed from the speakers, the reporter's serious tone discussing what appeared to be some sort of manhunt. Harry caught fragments about a "dangerous criminal" but his attention was focused on the three figures seriously ignoring his presence.

Uncle Vernon had somehow managed to grow even more obese over the summer, his already fat body was straining against a bright yellow shirt that had probably fit him properly five years ago.

His walrus mustache bristled as he chewed his breakfast with noisy enthusiasm, occasionally grunting agreement with whatever the television was reporting.

Aunt Petunia sat rigid and bird-like beside him. Her horse-like face was set in its perpetual expression of disapproval, though Harry noticed she kept glancing toward the ceiling as if expecting magical creatures to come crashing through at any moment.

Dudley represented the most dramatic change of all. Harry's cousin had shot up several inches over the summer, but rather than gaining any athletic build, he had simply become a larger version of his previous self. His multiple chins now fell over his collar in flesh-colored layers, and his small, piggy eyes had nearly disappeared into the fats of his face.

The Dursleys had clearly reached some sort of agreement about how to handle Harry's presence this summer, they would pretend he didn't exist unless they were absolutely forced to acknowledge him.

It was an improvement over active hostility, but the nature of their indifference was somehow more unsettling than outright abuse.

Taking a deep breath and bracing himself for the confrontation, Harry approached his aunt directly. He pulled the Hogsmeade permission form from his pocket and held it out to her with as neutral an expression as he could manage.

The moment the official Hogwarts parchment appeared in her peripheral vision, Aunt Petunia was startled so violently that she nearly launched her coffee mug across the room. Her face drained of color as she stared at the document as if it might suddenly burst into flames.

"What are you trying to pull now?" she shrieked, her voice reaching a pitch that made Uncle Vernon wince and caused Dudley to temporarily stop eating.

Harry held up the Hogsmeade permission form expressionlessly, his tone calm: "This is a Hogwarts document that requires your signature."

He didn't specify what it was exactly hoping Petunia would quickly sign it without reading the contents.

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