Harry Potter: Westeros's Plant Life

"I hope you enjoy the Devil's Snare's gift," Adrian said to Luna.

The main Devil's Snare rustled its remaining vines and gently patted Luna's head.

It seemed to genuinely like this little one.

The Devil's Snare vine in Luna's hands was about one meter long. While this might represent only a few hundredths of the main Devil's Snare, this was the first time it had actively separated an individual.

"Thank you, Professor Westeros," Luna said politely, then turned to the Devil's Snare. "And thank you, Plant Sir. I like it very much."

She stroked the vine in her hands as if comforting a small animal.

"Will it get hungry?" Luna suddenly looked up and asked. "Do I need to feed it anything special?"

"Your own magic will nourish it," Adrian explained. "As long as you continue to channel magical energy—which you do naturally just by being a witch—it can stay with you indefinitely. Oh, and you'll need to give it a place to live."

"A place to live?" "A place to live?" Luna looked puzzled by this last statement, but before Adrian could explain further, the Devil's Snare in her hand took matters into its own vines.

The small plant began to move sliding across Luna's palm toward the back of her hand. Then, like water seeping into earth, it sank beneath her skin and disappeared completely.

This was the Devil's Snare's parasitic ability. Clearly this small guy had inherited this ability as well.

Luna examined the back of her hand with fascination. After a few seconds, a faint pattern appeared on her skin—lines that resembled intertwining vines of pale dark green color.

"It's a bit itchy," Luna observed straightforwardly. "But I feel like I can control it."

To demonstrate, the pattern on her hand began to glow with soft green light. The next moment, the Devil's Snare emerged from her wrist, stretching toward Adrian's desk where her cup of hot chocolate sat cooling.

The tendril nimbly wrapped around the cup's handle with skillful movements. However, the moment it lifted the cup, the tip of the tendril suddenly trembled, as if it hadn't mastered the right amount of force.

"Crash—splash!"

The cup tumbled from the tendril's grasp, shattering against the desk and spilling chocolate across Adrian's papers and books.

"Oh, sorry!" Luna exclaimed, her cheeks flushing pink with embarrassment.

The Devil's Snare vine recoiled as if it had been burned, quickly retreating back into Luna's body where the pattern on her hand dimmed with what could only be described as shame.

"It seems you two still need time to develop proper coordination," Adrian said with an understanding smile, already reaching for his wand. "These things take practice."

A simple cleaning charm sent a cloth flying from the corner to mop up the spilled chocolate and vanish the broken porcelain, restoring order to his office in moments.

Luna gazed at the back of her hand with a gentle smile, clearly not bothered by the minor accident.

Then she glanced at the clock on Adrian's office wall, noting how its hands had approached toward eleven o'clock.

"It's almost time, Professor," Luna said softly, her dreamy voice carrying a note of excitement.

"Time for what?" Adrian asked, momentarily confused.

"The Quidditch match," Luna reminded him. "Gryffindor versus Slytherin. I've never watched a Quidditch match in person before—only heard Daddy describe them in The Quibbler."

Adrian suddenly remembered—a few days ago, Harry had mentioned this, telling Adrian that Malfoy had joined the Slytherin Quidditch team and gotten all the Slytherin players new broomsticks.

Well, buying his way onto the team.

However, when Harry mentioned this, he was still confident about winning.

He believed his flying skills could defeat his opponents.

"We can still make it," Adrian put away his wand and stood up, "probably."

The Quidditch pitch was thriving with excitement when Adrian and Luna arrived.

Hundreds of students filled the stands, their house colors creating stripes of red, green, blue, and yellow against the November sky. The autumn air was crisp and clear, perfect for flying, with just enough wind to make the game interesting.

Luna immediately melted into the Ravenclaw section, where students wearing blue and bronze scarves waved flags and banners with creative slogans.

Adrian, meanwhile, took his seat in the teachers' section beside Professor McGonagall, whose lips were pressed into a thin line of disapproval.

"You're quite late, Professor Westeros," McGonagall said sternly, her Scottish accent sharpening with irritation. "You've missed what could charitably be called an exciting first half."

Adrian glanced at the magical scoreboard hovering above the pitch, and immediately understood Professor McGonagall's grim expression.

SLYTHERIN: 70

GRYFFINDOR: 10

The score difference was quite big, especially this early in the match. Slytherin's new broomsticks were clearly providing a significant advantage, allowing their Chasers to outmaneuver Gryffindor's older equipment with ease.

Of course, Adrian reminded himself, Quidditch's unique scoring system meant that this lead wasn't necessarily decisive. As long as the point difference remained below 150, whichever Seeker caught the Golden Snitch would win the match instantly, adding 150 points to their team's total.

Adrian had always found this rule somewhat problematic—it meant that the majority of the game could be rendered meaningless by a single moment of success or failure. But he had to admit, it certainly created dramatic tension and opportunities for the Seeker's last-minute heroics.

His attention turned to the pitch, where Gryffindor had called a timeout. The team huddled together on the grass, as they engaged in what appeared to be an intense tactical discussion.

From his position in the stands, Adrian could see Harry's messy black hair and glasses as he listened to his teammates.

"That Bludger has definitely been tampered with," Fred was saying through gritted teeth. "It's been jinxed, no question about it. George and I have spent the entire first half protecting Harry from that bloody thing—we can't focus on anything else."

This explained Slytherin's strong lead. While the Weasley twins—normally among the most effective Beaters in the school—had been forced to act as Harry's bodyguards, Slytherin's Chasers had got nearly unconstrained access to the goal posts.

More concerning was the effect on Harry himself. The cursed Bludger's persistent pursuit had prevented him from concentrating on his task of locating the Golden Snitch.

Harry's frown deepened. With his experience from the previous year, he could clearly tell that one of the two Bludgers was behaving abnormally. While one followed the expected patterns, the other pursued him with firm determination, as if it had been enchanted to target him specifically.

The situation reminded him uncomfortably of his first Quidditch match, when Quirrell had jinxed his broomstick.

'Could someone be trying to harm me again?' Harry thought as his expression immediately became serious, but his eyes revealed a stubborn refusal to give up.

'Just one out-of-control Bludger—it was no big deal.'

Oliver Wood, Gryffindor's captain, looked as though he might be sick. This was the season opener against their greatest rivals, and losing would severely impact team morale for months to come. His usual confident demeanor had now somewhat cracked, revealing the desperate anxiety beneath it.

"Damn it," Wood muttered, running his hands through his hair. "That ball was perfectly normal during our last practice session..."

They now faced an impossible dilemma. According to official Quidditch regulations, requesting a game stoppage due to equipment malfunction would result in automatic forfeit. But continuing to play with a cursed Bludger put Harry in genuine danger.

So...

Finally, Harry broke the deadlock. "George, Fred, don't worry about the Bludger chasing me anymore—let me handle it myself,"

"But Harry—" Fred began to protest.

"I can manage it," Harry interrupted, his green eyes blazing with determination. "Trust me."

Fred wanted to say something more, but seeing the confident expression on Harry's face, he felt somewhat reassured.

Wood stared at Harry for several seconds, as if trying to read the truth in his young Seeker's face.

Finally, seeing the confidence in Harry's expression, Wood nodded grimly. "All right," he said. "But if that thing gets too close—"

"It won't," Harry said simply.

As Gryffindor's captain, Wood couldn't let his players get hurt, but he also didn't want to give up the match just like that.

Fortunately, Harry seemed very confident.

The whistle signaling the end of the timeout sounded, and all players returned to the sky on their broomsticks. The match continued.

After a brief adjustment, the Weasley twins abandoned their strategy of helping Harry defend, letting Harry deal with the Bludger alone. The ball continued as before, chasing Harry relentlessly—it could even make more than a dozen turns in the air.

Those were hardly routes a normal Bludger could take.

But Harry didn't panic.

He concentrated completely, his body pressed close to his broomstick, dodging the ball while searching for the Golden Snitch.

At this moment, the special training during the summer holidays showed its effects.

Harry could clearly feel that his reflexes had improved.

Every time the Bludger whistled past, almost grazing his hair, he managed to avoid it by the slimmest margin.

If this had been last year, he definitely wouldn't have been able to dodge so easily.

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