0462 The Treants
"Master," Bart greeted him, his voice was carrying the sound of wind through branches. "Flick says you need to speak with me. Something serious, by the look on your face."
"Very serious," Adrian confirmed. "I came to warn you. Within the next day, probably tomorrow night—a dangerous wizard will attack my plantation. I need you and the others to stay alert, and more importantly, I need you to stay safe."
Bart's glowing eyes dimmed slightly in concern. "What manner of wizard? And why does he target your planatation?"
"It should be Voldemort," Adrian said simply. "His target is the Tree of Wisdom. He probably wants to consume Wisdom tree's soul to repair his own."
"The Tree of Wisdom is your soul-bonded companion," Bart said, understanding immediately the threat. "An attack on the Tree is an attack on you."
"Yes. And I'm telling you this because I don't want you trying to help. Voldemort is extremely dangerous—far more dangerous than the acromantulas you cleared out. I'm grateful for your protection of the students, for your loyalty, but this is a fight you should avoid."
Bart was quiet for a long moment, and Adrian could feel his mind working through the situation. "You're asking us to stand aside while you face this threat alone."
"I'm asking you to stay here and protect the students if the Death Eaters attack. Voldemort is not the same as he was decades ago. He is now vulnerable and weakened."
Adrian corrected gently. "And the attack may or may not come from him. I am not sure of everything. But, the Tree of wisdom and I have a connection that gives us strength when we're together. But even with that advantage, this will truly be a difficult fight if it comes to that situation.
If you and the others try to intervene, you'll likely be hurt or killed. The best way you can help is by staying safe and keeping the students safe."
Wika hearing this spoke slowly and kindly, "What if the dark wizards comes through the Forest to attack the children?"
It was a fair question. Adrian considered it carefully. "As I said, they may come to attack the castle through the Forbidden Forest. There are already centaurs who will be alert to such attacks and you guys must also defend yourselves. But don't pursue them, and focus on protecting this territory and the students. That's what matters most."
Bart studied Adrian with those glowing eyes, and nodded slowly. "Yes Master. We will follow your command. But if the battle goes poorly, if you need help, call for us. We are not so fragile as you fear, and we have learned much since our awakening. I have even been practicing the magic you taught me."
"I know," Adrian said, remembering that Bart had accidentally set his own crown on fire while practicing Incendio. "Just... be careful with fire magic."
After a few more minutes of discussion when Adrian gave them specific instructions about what signs to watch for and how to recognize if Voldemort was approaching, he left the Treants to their watch and made his way back toward the castle.
The sun had fully set by now, and stars were beginning to appear in the darkening sky. Adrian walked slowly across the grounds, his mind was turning over everything he'd done to prepare, trying to think if there were any vulnerabilities he'd missed, any defenses he'd forgotten to strengthen.
That evening, Adrian forced himself to attend dinner in the Great Hall, knowing that his continued absence would raise questions.
He sat at the staff table, mechanically eating food he barely tasted, while around him the normal life of Hogwarts continued unchanged.
Students laughed and talked, teachers discussed lesson plans and graded papers, the enchanted ceiling showed a beautiful starry night.
Hermione caught his eye from the Gryffindor table and gave him a small, hopeful smile. She was still researching ways to help Harry, still believing that Adrian would find a solution.
After dinner, Adrian returned to his quarters and tried to sleep, knowing he needed rest for what was coming.
He woke before dawn on the third day as his sleep was restless and fragmented throughout the night.
Dreams had plagued him—disjointed images of silver chains breaking apart, trees burning with flames, and a small broken figure standing at the edge of darkness, beckoning him forward with hands of skeleton.
Each time he'd jolted awake, heart pounding, only to drift back into another unsettling vision when exhaustion finally reclaimed him.
Now, lying in the darkness of his quarters with the first hints of pale light beginning to seep around the edges of his curtains, Adrian abandoned any pretense of trying to rest further.
He lay still for several minutes, listening to the quiet sounds of Hogwarts Castle settling around him—the distant creak of ancient wood adjusting to temperature changes, the soft hoot of an owl returning from its nightly hunt, the whisper of wind against stone walls that had stood for a thousand years.
Tomorrow would bring the confrontation he'd been preparing for.
Adrian rose from his bed and moved through his morning routine. He washed his face in the small basin, the cold water was helping to clear some of the fog of exhausted anxiety from his mind.
He dressed in his teaching robes. As he combed his hair and examined his reflection in the small mirror above the washbasin, he noted the faint shadows under his eyes that even magic couldn't quite conceal.
He looked tired.
Before heading down to breakfast, Adrian sat at his desk and pulled out three pieces of parchment, three quills, and three bottles of ink—one red, one blue, one black.
He'd been thinking about this all night, turning the words over in his mind during those brief periods of wakefulness between troubled dreams, trying to decide what to say if the worst happened tomorrow night.
These were four letters to leave something useful behind if he didn't survive the confrontation.
The letter to Dumbledore came first. Adrian dipped his quill in the blue ink and began to write:
Headmaster Dumbledore,
If you are reading this, then I have fallen in tomorrow night's confrontation with Voldemort. I wish I could say I'm surprised, but I've always known that facing the Dark Lord alone would be extremely dangerous, no matter what advantages I possessed.
There are things I must tell you now that I could not reveal while I lived. My plantation, the one I've maintained outside Hogwarts grounds for all these years, contains something of immense magical power. At its center grows a tree I call the Tree of Wisdom, and this tree possesses a soul.
My own soul is bonded to it in ways I don't fully understand. This bond is the source of the extraordinary plants and my increased magical strength I've demonstrated over the past year. With it's help and absorption was how I was able to destroy Voldemort's Horcruxes.
Voldemort has discovered the Tree's existence. He probably seeks to consume its soul, to devour its power and use it to repair his own fragmented existence.
If I have failed to stop him tomorrow night, you are reading this letter, then the plantation can be accessed through a portal door in my shop at 47 Magnolia Road in Little Whinging. You'll find the door in the back room, hidden behind the bookshelf that appears to be built into the wall. The password to activate the portal is "Verdant Sanctuary."
Once you enter, you'll understand why I kept this secret for so long.
There are also notes on soul magic, advanced defensive spells, and various research projects in my quarters here at Hogwarts. You'll find them in the locked cabinet behind my desk.
I've left instructions that these materials should be given to Hermione Granger when she reaches her seventh year and has demonstrated the maturity and wisdom to use such knowledge responsibly. She has the brilliant mind and moral character needed to continue this work.
Thank you for your trust over the years, Headmaster. Thank you for giving me the opportunity to teach here at Hogwarts. It has meant more to me than I ever properly expressed.
Fight well. Fight wisely.
And may you succeed in protecting this world from darkness.
Adrian Westeros
He folded the letter carefully, then sealed it with red wax. He pressed his signet ring into the soft material, leaving his mark.
The letter to Harry was harder to write. Adrian sat with the quill hovering over the parchment for several minutes, trying to decide how much to reveal, how much truth a fifteen-year-old boy deserved to know about the sacrifices being made on his behalf.
Finally, with a deep breath, he dipped the quill in black ink and began:
Harry,
I hope with all my heart that you never have to read this letter. I hope that by the time you wake from your current unconscious state, I'll be there to greet you in person, to tell you with a smile that everything worked out exactly as planned, that you're healed and Voldemort is permanently defeated.
But if you're reading this, then I've failed in that goal, and I owe you an explanation of what I attempted and why.
When Voldemort attacked you several weeks ago and forcibly extracted the fragment of his soul that had been living in the scar on your forehead since you were an infant, the process didn't just remove his presence from your mind—it damaged your own soul severely in the extraction.
The unconsciousness you've been experiencing, the inability to wake despite Madam Pomfrey's best efforts, isn't a physical condition that can be healed with potions or spells. It's spiritual damage, a wound that normal healing cannot repair.
Through my research into soul magic, I discovered that Voldemort's fragmented soul, if defeated and captured in precisely the right way, could provide the pure soul energy needed to heal you and my sister both.
The fragments of his soul, once separated from his consciousness and purified of their dark taint, contain exactly the kind of power that could fill the void he created when he ripped his presence from your scar.
That's why I chose to face him alone tomorrow night, why I'm taking this enormous risk. If I succeed, if I can defeat him and capture those fragments, then both you and my sister could be completely cured.
If you're reading this letter, then obviously I didn't succeed.
The plan failed. I fell in the attempt.
I'm sorry, Harry. I'm deeply, profoundly sorry that I couldn't save you this time.
But please, don't give up hope. Hermione has been researching soul magic. Professor Dumbledore has vast wisdom and experience, they may be able to find another solution, another path to healing that I couldn't see.
Keep fighting. Keep living. You've already survived so much—you're stronger than you know, braver than you believe.
With deep respect and affection,
Professor Adrian Westeros
Adrian sealed this letter. He set it aside and turned to the third piece of parchment and the red ink.