Harry Potter: Westeros's Plant Life

Harry's fingers closed around the small crystal bottle in his robes pocket. He casually took it out and placed it on the table between them.

Hermione's eyes immediately focused on the bottle She lifted it, her fingers tracing the smooth crystal surface as she held it up to the light.

"Hmm... that's right," she murmured after several seconds of observation, her voice carrying the satisfaction of a puzzle finally solved.

Her brown eyes sparkled with success as she leaned forward. "As far as I know, only one magical substance would present this unusual state—"

"Stop being mysterious, Hermione," Ron said impatiently, stabbing a plump sausage with his fork and waving it in the air. "What the bloody hell is it? Some of us are trying to eat here."

The morning bustle of the Great Hall continued around them.

Hermione lowered her voice to a whisper and leaned close to the two of them. "This is an extracted memory,"

Harry and Ron exchanged glances across the table, their expressions shifting from curiosity to something approaching disappointment. The magical discovery they'd risked detention for suddenly seemed far less exciting.

"So, we went through all that trouble last night—sneaking around, nearly getting caught, giving ourselves heart attacks—just to nick one of Lockhart's memories?" Ron's lip curled in disgust as he bit into his sausage with perhaps more force than necessary. "What's he going to remember? How many times he's looked in a mirror this week?"

"Isn't this absolutely amazing?" Hermione's eyes sparkled with enthusiasm, completely oblivious to her friends' lack of excitement. "I never knew before that memories could actually be extracted from the human brain and preserved like this—I really want to try it..."

Her excitement was infectious, but Harry found himself immediately losing interest in the mysterious bottle in front of them. The thought of delving into Lockhart's private memories made his skin crawl,

He had absolutely no interest in whatever narcissistic recollections that fraud might have extracted, and he certainly didn't want to continue exploring the possibilities. The man's public persona was unbearable enough—what horrors might lurk in his private thoughts?

'What if there were some unspeakable things inside?' Harry thought with a shudder, imagining detailed memories of Lockhart's grooming routine or his thoughts about his own magnificence.

"So, what do we do now?" Ron asked, eyeing the bottle with wariness as if it might suddenly burst and flood them with unwanted Lockhart memories. "Should we try to return it before he notices it's missing? We could get into serious trouble if he finds out."

Harry's expression immediately grew troubled. Taking the bottle from the hidden compartment had been a moment of panicked impulse, but returning it would require careful planning and considerable risk.

"That's going to be much more difficult than taking it," He said grimly. "Lockhart's office is packed with those portraits of himself. We'd only be able to sneak it back when all the portraits are sleeping, and even then..."

At this moment, Hermione lifted the bottle and gave it a gentle shake, watching the silvery contents swirl in response to the motion.

"Aren't you even a little bit curious about what's inside?" she asked with genuine puzzlement.

Harry and Ron immediately shook their heads with such vigor that their hair flew about, as if they were physically trying to shake the very thought from their minds. The idea of experiencing Lockhart's memories was more terrifying than facing the basilisk.

"Fine," Hermione sighed with disappointment. "Let me think of a safe way to put it back..."

Just then, a gentle, familiar voice spoke directly behind her shoulder, "Hermione, what is that fascinating little bottle? Could you let me have a closer look at it?"

The three friends turned around so abruptly that Ron nearly choked on his pumpkin juice. Professor Westeros stood behind them with the quiet grace of someone who had approached unnoticed, his eyes were fixed with obvious interest on the crystal bottle in Hermione's hands.

"Pro... Professor," Hermione stammered, her face flushing crimson as she nearly dropped the bottle.

"Oh, don't panic, my dear," Adrian said with a warm, understanding smile that immediately put them somewhat at ease. His tone carried no judgment, only curiosity. "May I?"

He gently took the bottle from Hermione's fingers and held it up to eye level, rotating it slowly in the morning light.

"A memory, isn't it?" He observed while continuing to examine the bottle with interest. "I apologize for overhearing your conversation—I wasn't trying to eavesdrop, but the topic was rather... intriguing. Stolen from Professor Lockhart's office, How interesting."

The three students froze as stiffly as if they'd been petrified. Although their theft had been accidental, taking personal items without permission was undeniably wrong, especially something as intimate and sensitive as extracted memories.

"It was just an accident, Professor," Harry hurriedly explained, his ears burning red with shame and embarrassment. "We were investigating the basilisk sounds I heard, and we found this hidden compartment, and I just grabbed it without thinking. We were planning to return it to Professor Lockhart—we would never keep it!"

"Oh, I'm not scolding you at all," Adrian's smile widened with what seemed like amusement rather than disapproval. He slipped the bottle containing Lockhart's memory into his robes pocket. "I'll return it to Professor Lockhart for you. I'm sure he won't be angry—"

Only then did Harry breathe a sigh of relief.

Suddenly remembering the previous night's events, Harry leaned forward urgently. "By the way, Professor, about last night—did the patrol find anything?..."

"I'm already aware of your discovery," Adrian nodded approvingly, his expression growing more serious. "You did nothing wrong, Harry. In fact, your information was helpful. Professor McGonagall organized a patrol based on your report. We did find traces of the basilisk's recent activity in an abandoned classroom, though unfortunately we didn't gain much…."

"I see," Harry replied with obvious dejection, his hopes of a quick resolution crashing down around him. It seemed they would all have to continue living in fear and uncertainty for the foreseeable future.

But despite his disappointment, Harry had begun to understand something crucial: his Parseltongue ability was potentially the key to finding and stopping the basilisk.

At this moment, Hermione's curiosity overcame her earlier embarrassment and she spoke up. "Professor, since memories can be extracted and preserved like this... would it be possible for me to extract one of my own memories to examine it? I mean, for educational purposes, of course."

Adrian raised an eyebrow with obvious amusement at her enthusiasm. "Theoretically, yes, it's certainly possible," he said with a gentle smile. "But I would strongly suggest you don't attempt it, Hermione. Not for several years, at least."

He held up the memory bottle, letting the light catch the swirling contents. "Extracting memories requires extraordinarily precise magical control and years of practice. The slightest mistake—even a moment's loss of concentration—could cause permanent and irreversible brain damage. In fact, there aren't many wizards alive who can safely perform this particular branch of magic. If you're truly interested in learning it, I'd suggest waiting until at least your fifth year."

"Then who would be skilled enough to teach this magic?" Hermione asked curiously.

"Professor Dumbledore or—" Adrian said thoughtfully, then paused as if reconsidering his words. "Well, actually, just Professor Dumbledore. He's probably accomplished at everything magical—after all, he is Dumbledore."

Originally, Adrian had instinctively wanted to mention Lockhart, but obviously couldn't do so.

"What a shame," Hermione said with regret.

Their headmaster was always incredibly busy with his responsibilities, and moreover, now that he had been temporarily suspended from his position, there's no opportunity to ask for personal instruction.

Adrian's expression grew more serious as he looked directly into Hermione's eyes. "I want to remind you one more time, do not attempt memory extraction on your own under any circumstances unless you want to spend the rest of your life as a fool."

The seriousness in his voice was unmistakable, and Hermione nodded solemnly.

Adrian soon left the dining hall.

Harry seemed to think of something and said to the other two, "Extracting memories seems very difficult, so how did Lockhart manage it? We all know he has no real ability."

Ron answered carelessly, "Maybe that's the price of extracting memories."

Adrian left the Great Hall with Lockhart's memory bottle in his robes pocket and made his way through the castle's corridors toward the headmaster's office. Now, he needed access to a Pensieve. He was quite curious to see what was inside.

If this had been any other professor's memory, he might have felt some moral reservations about viewing such thoughts without permission. But Lockhart? The man who had built his entire career on lies and stolen valor? Adrian felt no such things at all.

The truth was, normal people rarely extracted their own memories. The procedure was dangerous and typically unnecessary. Only someone very old, like Dumbledore, might extract memories to preserve important information. Or perhaps someone who desperately wanted to forget something traumatic might choose to remove certain memories completely.

From another perspective, that meant this particular memory Lockhart had chosen to extract was absolutely very important to him.

'What kind of memory would be that important to someone like Lockhart?' Adrian wondered as he climbed the moving staircases.

Adrian immediately had some preliminary guesses.

Soon, he reached the entrance to the headmaster's office, where the familiar stone gargoyle stood.

However, a new problem immediately presented itself.

Adrian realized he had no idea what the current password might be. Moreover, now that Dumbledore had been suspended from his position as headmaster, he wasn't even certain if the traditional password system was still in effect, or if the gargoyle would still respond to Dumbledore's sweet treat names.

Adrian stood in front of the statue, mentally preparing to try various candy-related passwords, when something unexpected happened. The gargoyle suddenly shifted and moved aside with a deep, grinding sound of stone against stone, revealing the spiral staircase beyond.

"?" Adrian blinked in surprise. 'No password required today? How curious.'

With confusion but in relief, Adrian stepped onto the moving staircase that carried him to the office.

Reaching the top of the stairs, he pushed open the heavy oak door and was genuinely shocked to find a familiar figure standing by the tall windows. Dumbledore was gently stroking Fawkes' feathers.

"Ah, welcome, Adrian," Dumbledore turned around with that typical twinkle in his bright eyes, his smile as warm and knowing as ever.

Adrian stood frozen for a moment, struggling to process the sight in front of him. "Professor, why are you here? I thought you had already been... that is, I understood you were no longer..."

He trailed off.

Hearing Adrian's tactful words, Dumbledore's eyes crinkled with mischievous amusement. "Shh, I'm here to feed Fawkes—he still has important work to do guarding against the Chamber of Secrets, after all."

"So, there was no password required for the headmaster's office today?" Adrian asked.

"Ah, but there still is a password," Dumbledore said as he approached Adrian, his piercing blue eyes seeming to look directly into his soul through his eyes. "Remember what I said—only when everyone has abandoned me will I truly leave this place."

Adrian suddenly felt somewhat puzzled.

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