Fortunately for Adrian's weary body and increasingly disoriented sense of direction, he had the foresight to bring along his Portkey before embarking on his unexpected journey to Paris.
If he had been forced to attempt the arduous return journey to New York via the exhausting and potentially dangerous thod of long-distance Apparition, there was a very real possibility that he might have lost his way sowhere over the vast Atlantic Ocean.
The mont his fingertips made contact with the smooth surface of the enchanted silver teaspoon, Adrian felt the familiar sensation of magical transportation seize hold of his entire body.
The world around him dissolved into a swirling vortex of colors and sensations as he was pulled through the magical corridors of space. Within seconds, he found himself standing once again outside the familiar reception area designated specifically for foreign magical visitors in the bustling tropolis of New York.
"Good evening, sir," ca the weary, monotonous voice of Brandt, the perpetually exhausted receptionist who seed to have been permanently assigned to the late-night shift.
His tone carried the chanical quality of soone who had repeated the sa phrases thousands of tis over the course of countless tedious shifts. "Please co this way to fill out the standard immigration forms—wait just a mont, it's you again, Mr. Westeros."
The recognition in Brandt's voice was tinged with both surprise and a certain degree of professional wariness. It was highly unusual for the sa individual to pass through international magical immigration twice in such a short period of ti, and such occurrences typically needed additional scrutiny and paperwork that Brandt was clearly not enthusiastic about completing.
Adrian gave a casual, sowhat apologetic shrug to the tired receptionist, his expression conveying both innocence and mild embarrassnt. "I accidentally triggered the Portkey," He explained simply, hoping that this straightforward explanation would satisfy.
Brandt's face showed a brief mont of confusion as he processed this unusual explanation. His eyes studied Adrian's face for any signs of deception or suspicious activity. However, after a mont's consideration, he decided not to pursue the matter further.
His shift would be ending in just a few minutes, and any complications or irregularities would beco the responsibility of the next receptionist to arrive.
Adrian's parents had made the thoughtful decision to purchase a small cottage complete with a garden located in close proximity to the Tia Morrison General Hospital.
On special occasions and holidays, when hospital regulations permitted and Ariana's condition was stable enough to allow for temporary discharge, they would bring their daughter ho to the cottage.
Today was one of those special occasions and they couldn't let her lie alone in the cold hospital.
When Adrian finally arrived ho after his unexpected international adventure, he was imdiately greeted by his mother's concerned and sowhat exasperated voice. Margaret Westeros was a woman who worried deeply about her children, and Adrian's unexplained absence followed by his sudden reappearance had clearly caused her considerable anxiety.
"Adrian Westeros, where on earth have you been?" She demanded, her voice carrying that particular tone that mothers everywhere seem to master. "I've been worried sick about you! You can't just disappear without telling anyone where you're going, especially not during the holidays when family should be together!"
After enduring several minutes of his mother's well-intentioned but lengthy lecture about responsibility, communication, and the importance of keeping family inford about one's whereabouts, Adrian finally managed to extract himself from the conversation.
He gave sincere apologies and vague explanations about urgent magical business that had needed his attention, though he carefully avoided ntioning the specific details of his journey to Paris.
With his mother's concerns temporarily eased, Adrian made his way through the hallways of the cottage toward the narrow staircase that led to the second floor. At the end of the upstairs hallway, behind a door painted in soft purple—Ariana's favorite color—lay the room where his sister rested.
Ariana herself lay in the center of the room on a hospital like bed. She remained exactly as she had been for months—still and silent, her eyes closed in what appeared to be peaceful sleep. Her dark brown hair, which had once been thick and lustrous, now spread across the white pillow like spilled chocolate.
After standing quietly in the doorway for several monts, simply watching his sister and gathering his thoughts, Adrian finally stepped fully into the room and carefully closed the door behind him.
From his suitcase, he took out the leaf from the Tree of Wisdom.
[Description: It contains pure soul energy.]
Although Adrian believed this leaf would have so effect on his sister, how exactly should he use it?
'Should I try to brew it into so kind of healing potion?' He wondered, his mind racing through various possibilities. 'Perhaps it requires a specific ritual? Or maybe there's so other thod that I haven't considered...'
While Adrian stood there wrestling with these crucial questions, lost in thought and uncertainty, sothing absolutely extraordinary began to happen. The leaf, as if responding to so invisible summons or recognizing the presence of the person it was ant to heal, suddenly began to move of its own accord.
It floated lightly above Ariana's forehead, as if pulled by invisible threads, and began to emit tiny points of light like fireflies.
More amazingly, those lights flickered in rhythm with Ariana's faint breathing.
Adrian nervously watched this scene.
The leaf gradually liquefied, transforming into a stream of starlight that slowly seeped into Ariana's brow. Seeing this, Adrian quickly communicated with the Tree of Wisdom.
"Eldra, what's happening?"
The response ca imdiately, appearing in his mind:
[Na: Ariana Westeros]
[Status: Soul Integrity (51%)]
51%...52%...53%...
'It's actually working!' Adrian's mind shouted with joy and relief. 'The Tree of Wisdom's leaf really does possess the ability to repair damaged souls!’
Adrian held his breath anxiously, afraid that even the slightest disturbance might interrupt this crucial healing process.
Finally, the last stream of energy disappeared into Ariana's forehead.
The room fell into brief silence, with only the ticking of the bedside clock.
[Status: Soul Integrity (61%)]
"Ariana?" Adrian called softly. He leaned closer to the bed, searching her peaceful face for any sign of consciousness or awareness.
However, there was no response. Her breathing remained steady but shallow, her eyes remained closed, and her body remained still. It seed that until the damage to her soul was completely repaired—until that percentage reached one hundred percent—Ariana would remain in coma.
Adrian stood there for a while, until his mother called his na from downstairs.
"Good night, Ariana,"
Christmas Morning
Like every Christmas morning that had co before in the magical world, today was the busiest and most chaotic ti of the entire year for the postal owls who were responsible for delivering gifts, cards, and ssages throughout the wizarding community.
Even though Adrian was currently living thousands of miles away from England in his family's cottage in New York, quite a remarkable number of determined owls had successfully made the arduous transatlantic journey to tap persistently on his bedroom window with their beaks.
These dedicated postal birds had flown through storms, across vast stretches of ocean, and over multiple ti zones to ensure that their precious cargo reached its intended recipient on this most important of holidays.
Adrian had no choice but to keep his bedroom window wide open throughout the morning. Every so often, another package would appear on the table beside his bed all these were gifts sent from his friends or students.
From the suitcase nearby, Ray imdiately flew out. Although it was winter and snowflakes were falling outside, Ray still seed quite lively.
Adrian fed Ray while counting the packages he had received.
"Let see," he murmured to himself with curiosity, "who has been thoughtful enough to send sothing this year..."
The number of packages was not much. All of the gifts were from people Adrian knew well and had developed relationships with over the years: the owner of the potions shop with whom he frequently collaborated, friends he had t during his various travels around the magical world, forr colleagues, and even a few unexpected surprises.
Surprisingly, Ruskin had also sent him a gift.
"This is... an egg?" Adrian muttered in surprise after carefully opening the packaging.
After opening the package, Adrian discovered a huge egg with a tallic sheen.
The egg was placed in a specially made temperature-controlled box, with a note underneath:
[
It was seized from a group of smugglers—those fools actually wanted to make it into a preserved specin for so private collector's cabinet! Unfortunately, it's a dead egg, so I'm giving it to you.
]
An Occamy egg...
Adrian rembered that Kettleburn had once brought an Occamy to school. Occamies were serpentine creatures with feathers and wings, and two legs, able to shrink or expand in size at will.
Occamy eggshells were made of pure silver and were highly sought after, and the yolk and white also had many beneficial properties.
There was even a luxury shampoo currently available on the market that was made primarily from Occamy egg yolk, combined with other rare and expensive ingredients. Adrian had actually purchased this particular product on several occasions—the effect on hair texture and appearance was quite remarkable, though the price was a bit too expensive for regular use.
Co to think of it, the person who had invented and marketed that particular shampoo was none other than Gilderoy Lockhart. It was one of his few actual accomplishnts that seed to have genuine rit, unlike many of his supposed heroic adventures.
Adrian carefully set the precious Occamy egg aside and continued opening the remaining packages.
Harry Potter had sent him a pocket watch maintenance kit, complete with tiny specialized tools, cleaning solutions, and replacent parts.
Remus had sent him a new pair of dragon-hide gloves.
There was also a simple but heartfelt card from Hermione Granger that read in her neat, careful handwriting: "Thank you for your guidance and patience. rry Christmas, Professor Westeros."
Besides these more significant gifts, several of his Hufflepuff students had also taken the ti to send him cards and small presents. Receiving these tokens of appreciation from his students always filled Adrian with a warm sense of professional satisfaction and personal joy.
After opening all the packages and arranging the gifts on his desk where he could properly appreciate them, Adrian settled back into his comfortable reading chair with a deep, satisfied sigh.
These past few days had been absolutely exhausting, both physically and emotionally. The extensive use of Apparition during his urgent journey to Paris had left him with lingering effects—his head was still throbbing with a dull, persistent ache that reminded him of the magical energy he had expended.
Long-distance magical travel always took a toll on the body, and transcontinental Apparition was particularly draining.
However, despite his physical discomfort and exhaustion, Adrian felt as though an enormous emotional burden had been partially lifted from his shoulders. The significant improvent in his sister Ariana's condition—that crucial increase from 51% to 61% soul integrity—represented the first real progress they had seen in years of desperate searching for a cure.
Next, he needed to think about how to obtain more soul-energy-containing leaves from the Tree of Wisdom...
anwhile, at Hogwarts
The scene shifts across the Atlantic Ocean to the castle of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, where the holiday season was being celebrated with all the traditional magical splendor.
In the warm, cozy atmosphere of the Gryffindor common room, Harry Potter and Ron Weasley were sitting cross-legged on the soft carpet, surrounded by the delightful chaos of Christmas morning gift-opening.
They had no idea how these gifts had been delivered; Ron thought they had been secretly brought by owls, but Harry believed they were delivered by house-elves, just like the food that suddenly appeared on the dining tables.
Harry had received a flute from Hagrid, a large box of chocolate frogs from Hermione, and from Mrs. Weasley, Ron's mother who had essentially adopted Harry as an honorary mber of the Weasley family, he had received a hand-knitted sweater in Gryffindor colors and a tin of her famous homade fudge.
Moving on to examine the next package in his collection, Harry discovered a small, elegantly wrapped present that imdiately caught his attention due to its careful presentation and mysterious origin. The package contained a palm-sized wooden box.
"It's from Professor Westeros!" Harry exclaid with excitent as he discovered Adrian's handwriting on the small note that had been tucked beneath the box.
The ssage was brief: "rry Christmas, Harry. This is a good luck charm made from lightning-struck wood. May it bring you protection and fortune in the year ahead."
Harry eagerly opened the beautifully crafted box to reveal a small, dark token nestled in soft velvet padding. The object was clearly ancient and had been shaped by expert hands, its surface was also shiny and looked like made up of tree barks.
"What's that supposed to be?" Ron asked with casual curiosity while continuing to fiddle with his own collection of gifts.
"It's a good luck charm from Professor Westeros," Harry replied, turning the mysterious object over in his hands to examine it from all angles. "It seems to be so kind of protective enchanted item."
"Hmm, it really looks like Professor Westeros favors you," Ron observed with a mixture of admiration and mild envy as he looked at the obviously valuable and personally crafted object in Harry's hand. "I wonder what kind of magic has been cast on it?"
"I don't know." Harry shook his head, then put the charm in his pocket.
The last package was anonymous, containing sothing silvery-gray that flowed like liquid. Harry recognized it—it was an Invisibility Cloak.
He had once discovered an Invisibility Cloak in the warehouse of Adrian's plantation as well. However, that cloak, having been stored for too long, had almost lost its invisibility effect.
'Who would send such an incredibly valuable gift?' Harry wondered.
Harry looked at the note beside it:
[Your father left this in my possession before he died. It is ti it was returned to you. Use it well.
A very rry Christmas to you.]
'My father owned this cloak?'
Harry pondered for a mont; 'then, it must have been sent by soone who knew my father well. Who could it be?'
--------------------
Author's Note: This Chapter is like the one's I uploaded at first, mainly like the First 30 or so chapters, Should I upload a single chapters like this per day or double simple chapters per day??
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