Adrian's consciousness returned slowly, swimming up through layers of darkness like soone drowning who'd finally rembered which way was up.
For a disorienting mont, he existed in a state between true awareness and oblivion, feeling sensations without quite understanding them as the solid ground beneath his body, warm sunlight on his face that felt sohow wrong, the distant sound of leaves rustling in a breeze seed dreadfully mundane after what he'd just experienced.
Then mory crashed back in an overwhelming rush that made him gasp.
The battle.
Voldemort's grotesque resurrection from mist and magic. The desperate exchange of spells that had nearly killed him. That terrible gray light piercing the Tree of Wisdom's trunk. And then, the spiritual realm.
The grassland stretching to horizons. The rged consciousness, his soul and the Tree's united into sothing greater than either could be alone. The mont when they'd crushed Voldemort's essence into absolute nothingness, erasing the Dark Lord so completely that not even a ghost remained.
And finally, falling. His consciousness separating from the Tree after their shared victory, returning to his abandoned physical body, the world going dark as the strain of what he'd done caught up to him.
Adrian's eyes snapped open, and he dragged air into lungs that felt like they hadn't breathed in hours.
The sky above him was the perfect, unchanging blue of the plantation's pocket dinsion, unblemished by clouds or the gray mist barrier that Voldemort had created.
How long had he been unconscious? Minutes? Hours? The sun's position suggested it was still morning, but whether it was the sa morning or the next day, he couldn't imdiately tell.
He tried to sit up and imdiately regretted the decision. Every muscle in his body scread in protest, as if he'd been beaten thoroughly by sothing large.
"Boss! Sir Adrian!" Dobby's voice was high and frantic, filled with intense relief. Suddenly he was there, his large eyes were streaming with tears. "Dobby thought Master Adrian was dead! Dobby has been waiting and watching for hours and hours, not knowing what to do or how to help!"
"I'm alive, Dobby," Adrian managed to croak, his voice was rough and raw as if he'd been screaming. "I'm alive. Just... help up, please."
With Dobby's-elf's strong assistance, Adrian managed to get into a sitting position.
The plantation spread out around him, and he took a mont to assess the damage from the battle.
The Tree of Wisdom still stood at the center of everything. But it had changed as among the usual green leaves were new ones which were silver in color, gleaming like tal in the sunlight. They were scattered throughout the entire canopy, perhaps one silver leaf for every ten green ones, distributed in a pattern that seed random yet sohow intentional.
Adrian knew instinctively, what these silver leaves represented. They were the physical manifestation of what had occurred in the spiritual realm—the permanent change that had resulted from their souls rging completely to defeat Voldemort.
The ground around where Adrian lay showed scorch marks in several places, dark burns where Voldemort's dark magic had struck during the physical portion of the battle.
One of the greenhouses had been partially collapsed, its crystal walls were shattered into thousands of glittering fragnts that lay scattered across the soil.
Several of the defensive wards he'd constructed over the past three days had clearly failed under the assault, their residual magic was dissipating into harmless sparkles in the air like dying fireflies.
But despite all this damage, despite the scars of combat, the plantation itself had survived. The Tree had survived. The pocket dinsion also remained stable and secure.
They had won.
Adrian's hand went automatically to his pocket. His fingers closed around hard, smooth shapes, and he pulled them out carefully with hands that trembled slightly from exhaustion and residual shock.
Two sparkling leaves lay in his palm, each about the size of his hand, perfectly transparent like the finest glass. They glowed with a soft light that pulsed gently, as if they contained tiny beating hearts.
These were Voldemort's soul fragnts, all that remained of the Dark Lord after his essence had been shattered in the spiritual battle. Pure soul energy, captured and purified during the execution, extracted from Voldemort's consciousness.
"We did it," Adrian whispered, staring at the crystalline leaves. "We actually did it. Voldemort is gone."
"The evil wizard is destroyed?" Dobby asked hopefully, his voice was trembling with the need for confirmation. "The Dark Lord who hurt so many people—he is truly gone forever this ti?"
"Yes," Adrian confird, his grip tightening protectively around the crystalline leaves.
Speaking the words aloud made them more real. "Voldemort is gone. Permanently. His soul was shattered beyond any hope of recovery, destroyed so completely that resurrection is impossible. And what remained after the destruction..."
He held up the leaves so Dobby could see them properly. "This is all that's left. Just pure soul energy now, stripped completely of his consciousness and malice."
Dobby let out a sound that was half sob and half laugh. "Master Adrian defeated the Dark Lord! Master Adrian is the most powerful wizard in the world! Master Adrian saved everyone!"
"I had help," Adrian said softly, looking up at the Tree of Wisdom.
Through their bond, he could sense the Tree's presence. It was calm and ancient as always, but forever changed by what they'd experienced together.
"I couldn't have done any of this alone. Eldra and I... we fought together. We won together."
Getting to his feet took considerable effort and required Dobby's continued assistance. Adrian stood on shaky legs, testing his balance carefully, feeling the injury in his body.
He wasn't injured exactly. But he was deeply exhausted not in physical but on soul level after that battle.
"I need to get to Hogwarts," Adrian said, his mind already racing ahead to what needed to happen next, to the responsibilities that remained even after this victory.
Harry would need to be healed imdiately—the boy had been unconscious for weeks now, his soul was damaged by Voldemort's violent extraction of the Horcrux.
And then, once Harry was stable, Adrian would need to travel to Morrison General Hospital in Arica to save his sister, to finally repair the damage that had left her in a vegetative state for years. "Dobby, can you help to the portal? I don't think I can walk that far on my own just yet."
"Of course, Master Adrian! Dobby will help! Dobby will always help Master!" Dobby took Adrian's arm gently, supporting him as they walked slowly toward where the portal door stood waiting.
Each step was an effort that required conscious attention and willpower. Adrian's legs felt like they were made of sothing heavier than flesh, as if gravity had suddenly decided to press down on him with double its normal force.
But he forced himself to keep moving, one foot in front of the other, refusing to collapse now when he was so close to finally making things right.
He'd survived the battle. And now he had in his possession the ans to heal two people whose souls had been damaged by dark magic—Harry and his own sister.
As they approached the portal, Adrian took one last look back at the Tree of Wisdom. Its silver leaves caught the sunlight and glead like stars scattered through the green canopy, it was both beautiful and strange.
"Thank you, Eldra" Adrian said soft, knowing she would hear him through their bond even without words.
Then Adrian stepped through the portal into his enchanted suitcase, and from there back into the Hogwarts Castle.
The castle was in absolute chaos.
Adrian erged from the third-floor storage room where he'd hidden his suitcase to find students rushing through the corridors in small groups.
The normal order and discipline of Hogwarts had clearly broken down over the past hours. Portraits were gossiping frantically in their fras, sharing rumors and wild speculation with anyone who would listen.
Even the suits of armor seed on patrol, shifting restlessly in their vigil as if they too could sense that sothing montous and terrible had occurred.
Fragnts of conversation reached Adrian's ears as he made his way through the corridors with his head down and hood up, trying to avoid drawing attention in his current disheveled state.
"—heard there was a massive magical disturbance last night, sothing that set off every alarm ward in the castle—"
"—my brother said the professors were up all night, going to ergency etings with Dumbledore—"
"—sothing happened to You-Know-Who, people are saying he's finally been defeated for real this ti—"
"—Professor Westeros hasn't been seen since yesterday afternoon, and now there are rumors that he fought You-Know-Who alone—"
Adrian kept moving, pulling his hood lower to shadow his face. He looked terrible, he knew; pale and exhausted, his robes were dirty and torn in places from lying on the ground, his hair was disheveled, dark circles were under his eyes due to the physical and magical exhaustion.
For a mont, he even thought if he should go to his office and change his clothes and take a bath.
However, the last thing he needed right now was to be mobbed by curious students demanding answers he wasn't ready to give, asking questions he was too tired to deflect properly.
For now, he had one singular purpose driving him forward despite his exhaustion, get to the hospital wing, check on Harry and begin the healing process that would restore his damaged soul.
The hospital wing doors were closed but not locked. Adrian pushed them open as quietly as he could manage and stepped inside, grateful for the relative peace after the chaos of the corridors.
The main ward held three people, four if you counted Harry lying unconscious in his usual bed near the tall windows.
Hermione and Ron sat in chairs they'd pulled close to Harry's bedside, both were looking utterly exhausted.
Hermione had her hair pulled back in a ssy ponytail that showed it had been done hastily days ago and never redone, and her eyes were red-rimd and swollen as if she'd been crying recently or frequently.
Madam Pomfrey was at her desk in the corner, writing sothing in what appeared to be dical records, her expression was also strained and tired.
"Anything?" Ron was asking quietly as Adrian entered, his voice was heavy with the weight of weeks of disappointed hope. "Any change at all? Any sign that he might wake up?"
"No," Hermione said, her voice was thick with suppressed tears and exhaustion. "Nothing. He's been exactly the sa since. We've been here all night hoping, but there's been no change, no improvent, nothing."
She broke off, unable to finish speaking the fear that Harry might never wake up.
Adrian cleared his throat softly.
All three occupants of the room spun around simultaneously, and Hermione gasped so loudly it was almost a shriek. "Professor Westeros!"
They were on their feet instantly, both students were rushing toward him with expressions of shock and relief. Madam Pomfrey rose more slowly from her desk, her hand was going to her wand instinctively before she recognized who had entered.
Adrian held up a hand to stall the barrage of questions he could see forming on their faces, particularly on Hermione's, whose mouth was already opening to launch what would undoubtedly be a rapid-fire interrogation.
"I'm alright," Adrian said, though his voice was still rough and his appearance clearly contradicted that claim. "Tired, obviously, but alright. Has there been any change in Harry's condition? Any at all, no matter how small?"
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