Harry Potter: Westeros’s Plant Life 0233 The Search

According to Peeves' joyful testimony, verified by the violent destruction of the Fat Lady's portrait, Sirius Black had infiltrated Hogwarts.

Dumbledore's imdiately issued orders. "All professors will conduct a thorough search of the castle."

The situation needed swift action. Students from all four houses were temporarily relocated to the Great Hall which was hastily transford into an impromptu shelter.

With a series of complex wand movents, Dumbledore conjured hundreds of sleeping bags from thin air. It looked like they would be spending the night in the Great Hall.

The students, rather than complaining about their unusual accommodations, seed almost relieved by the arrangent. The Great Hall felt extrely safer than the corridors and isolated dormitories where a desperate fugitive might be lurking.

Moreover, the sleeping bags conjured by Dumbledore were fluffy and soft, carrying a warmth like basking in sunshine.

Whispered conversations filled the air as students settled into their temporary beds, their voices carrying a mixture of fear and excitent at this unprecedented disruption to their routine.

Adrian and Remus were assigned to the sa group, responsible for searching the main tower. They would search every corner and room here.

However, a curious incident occurred during the assignnt process. Snape strongly requested to be in the sa group as Adrian and Remus, but Dumbledore ultimately refused him and had him stationed in the Great Hall instead.

This action made Adrian secretly wonder—what exactly was Snape up to?

The search for the Fat Lady was rcifully brief. Professor McGonagall discovered her trembling in the map of Argyllshire on the third floor. The usually cheerful and boisterous portrait was nearly unrecognizable, her face was pale with terror and her gown was disheveled.

"That was Black!" She shrieked the mont McGonagall approached, her voice high and trembling with hysteria. "I saw him! Sweet rlin, I saw him with my own eyes! He was terrifying—like sothing that had crawled out of the darkest nightmare!"

McGonagall's stern expression softened with compassion as she knelt before the damaged portrait. "You're safe now," She said gently, comforting the fat lady. "Tell what happened, but take your ti. There's no rush."

The Fat Lady's story erged in spasms and jerks, disrupted by shuddering sobs and monts where she seed to retreat into herself. "He approached my fra quietly. His face... oh, his face was haggard and wild, with eyes that burned with such desperate hunger. When I asked for the password, he began to plead, then to demand, then to threaten."

She paused, wrapping her arms around herself as if seeking comfort. "When I refused—when I told him I would never allow entry without the proper password—he pulled out his wand."

McGonagall continued her gentle questioning, gradually coaxing out the crucial detail: Black had a wand in his possession.

A wizard without a wand was dangerous but limited, reduced to physical threats and crude violence. But a wizard with a wand—even one weakened by years of imprisonnt—beca an entirely different category of threat.

While Hogwarts erupted into organized chaos, the object of their search was racing through the Forbidden Forest. Sirius Black, was running wildly through the Forbidden Forest.

He had to run to a place where no one could find him! Otherwise, Dumbledore would soon be able to locate him.

Having worked with Dumbledore for so long, he naturally knew Dumbledore's thods. He absolutely could not be caught before personally finishing off that traitor!

Sirius ran wildly while thinking about what had just happened. He couldn't help but feel sowhat annoyed.

The attack on the Fat Lady replayed in his mind as he ran, each detail sharp with self-recrimination. The portrait's terrified face, her desperate refusal to grant him entry, the mont when his ragged control had finally snapped—it all felt like the actions of a stranger, soone he barely recognized as himself.

He had co so close. The dormitory where Peter slept as a rat had been re yards away, separated only by a password and a stubborn portrait.

However, using force couldn't change the fact that he still couldn't enter the Gryffindor common room.

The Fat Lady had fled—who else could open the door for him?

He couldn't very well blow the door open.

Thinking of this, Sirius sighed.

Now, with the castle on high alert, such an opportunity would never co again. Security would be tripled, students would be watched more carefully, and his elent of surprise was permanently lost.

After running an unknown distance and confirming his safety, Sirius leaned against a large tree to catch his breath.

Recently, he had been hiding in the Forbidden Forest. This place had food, water, and plenty of cover—it was a natural hiding spot. Only occasionally would he encounter so trouble, like Acromantulas or trolls.

Ah, once he even encountered centaurs, but fortunately he was in his Animagus dog form at the ti.

Centaurs were relatively friendly toward creatures like dogs, and they even prepared so food for him.

Centaurs were all vegetarian.

Although they only provided wild fruits and vegetables, it was better than nothing.

Occasionally, when he really couldn't find food, he would visit the centaur settlent.

Hmm... he really was quite pitiful.

Sirius shook his head, anger beginning to burn in his eyes.

Just wait a little longer... As long as he could catch Peter, this kind of life would be over.

At that mont, Sirius's stomach growled.

He sighed deeply and stood up using the tree trunk for support—it was ti to find sothing to eat.

Suddenly, Sirius felt his hand touch an unusual protrusion that was slowly moving.

"!"

He quickly withdrew his hand, only to see a twisted human face slowly erge from the rough bark, the bark flowing like lted wax, gradually forming clear facial features.

That's right, the tree Sirius was currently leaning against was that giant beech tree.

"Hello," ca a deep voice from the beech tree's mouth. "Who are you?"

The question was asked with such casual politeness that it took Sirius a mont to process the complete impossibility of the situation. He stumbled backward, his wand appearing in his hand with instinctive speed

"What are you?" He demanded instantly pointing wand at that eerie face.

"As you can see," the beech tree said slowly, the wrinkles on its bark gradually relaxing as it spoke, "I am a tree."

He wasn't blind—he could see that much.

However, he had never seen this kind of tree with a human face that could communicate and speak.

"So?" Sirius kept his wand trained on the unusual thing, though his initial alarm was fading into cautious curiosity. "What do you want to do?"

The tree's expression shifted, bark furrowing in what looked remarkably like confusion. "Do what?" it asked, its tone sounding genuinely puzzled. "Weren't you the one who woke up?"

The logic was undeniable, and Sirius felt his defensive posture beginning to relax. Whatever this creature was, it seed more curious than threatening. He lowered his wand, though he kept it ready in his hand.

"Fine, my mistake," He conceded, his voice carrying a tone of weary resignation. "Do you mind if I lean against you to rest?"

The tree's response was unexpected. Instead of answering directly, it blinked its eyes then fixed him with an intense stare and asked. "Are you a good person?"

'A good person?'

Sirius was montarily stunned.

In the eyes of the magical world, he was a wanted fugitive, a supposed murderer who had betrayed his best friends and killed a dozen innocent people. The newspapers showed him as a monster, the authorities hunted him as a dangerous criminal, and even his own mories were clouded by the trauma of his experiences.

But beneath the layers of accusation and assumption, beneath the false charges and evidence, Sirius knew the truth about himself. He had never betrayed Jas and Lily Potter. He had never killed Peter Pettigrew or those innocent Muggles.

So...

"Of course, I'm a good person," He said hoarsely to the beech tree.

The tree's expression imdiately softened, bark smoothing into what could only be described as a smile. "That's good... I like good people... You can lean against , friend."

Sirius inexplicably found this tree endearingly simple. He leaned back against the trunk and relaxed.

"Could you tell so stories?" the beech tree said in its slow tone. "I've never been outside..."

"Sure."

Sirius lay down, suddenly feeling an inexplicable urge to confess.

With the tree's roots serving as an improvised pillow, Sirius began to speak of tis when the world had been a brighter place.

He spoke of Hogwarts in its golden age. He told about the Marauders', the countless hours spent creating the magical map that had catalogued every secret passage and hidden room. His voice grew smoother as he rembered the sound of Jas's laughter, the sight of Remus trying to maintain order while secretly enjoying their chaos, the way Peter had looked at them all with such admiration.

But the beech tree didn't seem to mind, listening attentively throughout and occasionally responding with a few words.

Although Sirius felt this scene was sowhat absurd, having soone... having a tree to talk with in this wilderness wasn't bad.

After chatting for quite a while, Sirius asked what he most wanted to know: "Can you tell who planted you here?"

The beech tree was obviously stunned for a mont, then said without hesitation, "Of course it was Master who planted here."

"I an... who is your master?"

The tree's expression beca confused, as if the question made no sense. "Master... that's just Master..."

Sirius didn't know what to say for a mont. It seed the tree in front of him wasn't simple-minded, but actually stupid.

"I an, what's your master's na?" he asked patiently again.

"Don't know."

"What about you? What's your na?"

"Don't know."

"Then let give you a na."

"No."

The beech tree imdiately said, "Only Master can give a na."

"Fine." Sirius pouted. "Suit yourself."

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