Harry Potter: Westeros's Plant Life

Fawkes brought Harry and Dumbledore back to the headmaster's office, then immediately disappeared in a flash of fire.

The basilisk's corpse was temporarily left in the Chamber of Secrets, awaiting further handling.

The office felt warm and safe after the bone-chilling atmosphere of the Chamber. Harry collapsed into one of the comfortable armchairs, his body finally registering the full extent of his ordeal.

Phoenix tears had remarkable healing properties that go beyond simple medical magic. Though Harry's school robes hung in tatters around his shoulders, torn and stained with basilisk blood and chamber dust, and though his face had the dirt and crimson traces of his battle, the worst of his injuries had mostly healed.

At least he wouldn't faint from blood loss or pain in the short term.

With trembling hands and a voice that grew stronger with each word, Harry began to recount his experience in the Chamber of Secrets.

After listening to Harry's account, Dumbledore showed a look of satisfaction.

"Magnificent work, Harry," Dumbledore said warmly. "Your courage in the face of mortal danger, your quick thinking under impossible circumstances, and your unwavering determination to protect your friends—these qualities deserve the highest recognition. You will receive Hogwarts' Special Award for Services to the School."

Harry felt heat rise in his cheeks, his hand instinctively reaching up to scratch his hair in embarrassment. The praise felt undeserved, and even overwhelming.

He wasn't really prepared for any of it. Tonight was just... it all happened so fast. One moment he was following the sounds, and the next he was staring into those horrible yellow eyes. He nearly became basilisk food...

"Ah yes," Harry's eyes suddenly widened as memory struck him like lightning. He half-rose from his chair, urgency flooding his voice. "That sword…?!"

Dumbledore's eyes wrinkled with gentle amusement, and he raised a calming hand. "Don't worry, Harry. There's no need for concern. What you wielded tonight was Gryffindor's sword, and Fawkes has already gone to retrieve it."

"Gryffindor's sword?" Harry's voice cracked slightly with disbelief.

"Indeed," Dumbledore nodded, settling back into his own chair. "The sword belonged to Godric Gryffindor, one of Hogwarts' four founders. For over a thousand years, it has been kept within the castle. You see, Harry, the sword appears only to those who demonstrate true Gryffindor courage when faced with impossible odds."

Harry's jaw dropped open, and he stared at Dumbledore in disbelief. The weapon he had grasped so desperately in those final moments was wielded by one of the greatest wizards in history. It seemed impossible, like something from the most fantastic fairy tale.

Almost without thinking, Harry reached up and removed the Sorting Hat from his head, where it had been sitting forgotten since his return. He peered into its interior—he wanted to see if there were any other magical items within.

"Hey now!" The Sorting Hat's voice cracked with indignation, its tip twisting in what could only be described as an insulted huff. "I'll have you know I am a sophisticated magical artifact with centuries of wisdom, not some common storage trunk for spare wands and chocolate frogs! Really, the audacity of modern students..."

"Oh! Sorry, sorry," Harry said quickly, his face burning with embarrassment as he gently placed the hat on Dumbledore's desk. He had meant no disrespect, the night's incidents had just overwhelmed his usual good manners.

"Hmph," The Sorting hat muttered. "Terribly rude, but I suppose that's to be expected. You are, without question, a true Gryffindor through and through, Harry Potter. Impulsive, brave to the point of foolishness, and loyal beyond reason. Yes, you belong in that house, make no mistake."

Harry managed only an awkward smile, unsure whether he'd been complimented or criticized. Before he could give a response, the office was suddenly filled with another burst of golden flame, and Fawkes appeared in the center of the room.

It released his grip, and Gryffindor's sword fell toward the floor. But before it could strike the ground, the blade erupted in silver light. The basilisk's dark blood which had stained the metal instantly vanished. When the light faded, the weapon gleamed with its original shine.

"Ah, excellent work as always, Fawkes," Dumbledore said warmly, bending down to retrieve the legendary blade. He held it for a moment before extending it toward Harry.

"Goblin craftsmanship, it's the finest magical metalwork in existence. Their blades never lose their edge, never tarnish, and they absorb the properties of substances that strengthen them. You may examine it closely, Harry."

Harry accepted the sword with trembling hands, hardly daring to breathe as he observed the legendary weapon. Now he could finally see clearly this legendary blade—the ruby-encrusted hilt, the gleaming silver blade, the razor-sharp edge.

He had used this very sword to pierce the basilisk's skull.

Such an experience was something most wizards would never have in their lifetime.

The magnitude of what he had accomplished was finally beginning to sink in, and with it came a dizzying mixture of pride, disbelief, and lingering fear.

"But Professor," Harry said suddenly, a puzzled frown appearing on his face as he looked up from the sword, "there's something I don't understand. Why did Fawkes appear in the Chamber at exactly the right moment? And why did he bring the Sorting Hat with the sword inside it?"

Dumbledore paused, his expression growing thoughtful as he considered how much to reveal. "You are quite perceptive, Harry. The truth is, the basilisk was never meant to be your burden to bear. As you can see, Gryffindor's sword is particularly lethal to Basilisks. When I realized the creature had came to the chamber, I asked Fawkes to retrieve the sword from its hiding place so that I might face the beast myself when the time came."

At these words, Harry's imagination conjured an absurd vivid image: Dumbledore, his long beard flowing behind him, charging at the massive basilisk while waving the gleaming sword like some ancient warrior-king.

The mental picture was so ridiculous and yet so oddly heroic that Harry couldn't suppress a small shudder of mixed amusement and horror.

He quickly shook his head, trying to expel the surreal scene from his thoughts.

"What troubles you?" Dumbledore asked gently, noting Harry's strange expression with concern.

"Nothing, nothing at all," Harry said quickly, waving his hand. "I was just wondering... Professor, why did the basilisk suddenly appear in the Chamber tonight? I mean, it had been missing for months. Everyone thought it might have left the castle, or even died of old age."

"That is indeed a fascinating question," Dumbledore agreed, stroking his long silver beard thoughtfully. "The timing was indeed unusual. But regardless of the circumstances that brought it forth, the important thing is that the creature has been permanently dealt with."

Harry nodded, though something still nagged at the back of his mind.

Throughout the entire terrifying encounter, he had sensed only one clear emotion emanating from it: an overwhelming, desperate hunger.

'Could the basilisk have emerged to hunt because it was starving?'

What Harry couldn't have known was that Lockhart, in his cowardice and negligence, had abandoned his duties as the basilisk's keeper months ago. The creature had been left to starve growing more desperate and dangerous with each passing day until hunger finally drove it to hunt once more.

Just then, Harry noticed something extraordinary happening in the candlelit air around them. Without anyone observing when it had begun, countless tiny particles of silvery-white powder were floating throughout the headmaster's office like magical snow.

Dumbledore naturally noticed this strange and beautiful phenomenon as well. His eyes tracked the dancing particles with fascination and caution. "Most peculiar," he murmured, slowly extending his hand to catch a tiny fragment of the mysterious substance in his palm.

As the powder settled against his skin, he felt an immediate sensation of powerful magic. Along with the magical resonance came an unexpected scent, fresh and clean like the fragrance of pine forests after a gentle spring rain, or the first breath of morning air in a mountain meadow.

Before either Harry or Dumbledore could speculate further about this strange occurrence, all the floating particles suddenly began to move and swirl together in the center of the office like a miniature galaxy, spinning faster and faster until they formed a shimmering column of silver light.

Within this column, a human figure slowly began to appear, becoming more solid and distinct with each passing second.

"Professor Westeros!" Harry cried out, his voice ringing with delighted surprise and overwhelming relief.

Indeed, the figure emerging from the magical powder was Adrian. But what made the scene even more remarkable was that Adrian held a person securely in each of his arms—Ron and Lockhart.

"Ron," Adrian said gently, placing the boy to the soft carpet beside Dumbledore's desk. "I discovered him in a corner of the Chamber, poor lad. How could you leave him in that terrible, sunless place for so long?"

Oh, and your performance tonight was absolutely extraordinary, Harry. You defeated the basilisk, didn't you? Single-handed combat with a thousand-year-old monster—truly remarkable!"

In fact, Adrian had suspected for some time that tonight's events were not entirely coincidental. Dumbledore had deliberately let Harry face the basilisk—probably to train Harry, since he was the chosen savior.

Hearing Adrian's enthusiastic praise, Harry felt his stomach clench with sudden guilt and panic. In all the chaos and terror of battling the basilisk, in the overwhelming relief of survival and the shock of learning about Gryffindor's sword, he had completely forgotten about his best friend lying unconscious somewhere in the Chamber's shadows.

"Ron!" Harry exclaimed, rushing over to kneel beside his friend's still form. He reached out with trembling hands to check for injuries, his heart pounding with fear and self-recrimination. How could he have been so thoughtless? How could he have left Ron alone in that horrible place?

"Don't worry, Harry," Adrian said with a reassuring smile, placing a hand on the boy's shoulder. "Ron will awaken very soon—I've given him a specialized healing potion. Most fortunately, the protective charm I gave you was effective."

Ron had looked directly into the basilisk's deadly gaze during the initial confrontation. Without the powerful protective enchantment that Adrian had woven into the wooden token, the consequences would have been unthinkable.

Hearing Adrian's confident reassurance, Harry finally allowed himself to breathe properly again.

By now, the last traces of silvery-white powder had completely vanished from the air, leaving the office looking perfectly normal once more.

Dumbledore observed this entire scene with the keen interest. His centuries of experience had shown him countless transportation methods, from Floo powder to Portkeys to Apparition, but this was something entirely different.

"Fascinating," He said, his blue eyes twinkling with curiosity as he looked at Adrian with an inquiring expression. "Did you navigate your way here through that powder?"

Adrian nodded. "Indeed, Headmaster. This is my latest research breakthrough—I call it transmission powder. The applications are quite promising."

He turned to Harry. "The process is simple: scatter a handful of the powder, and you can instantly teleport to any location where you've previously established a magical anchor point. The principle is similar to Floo powder."

He gestured toward Harry with a knowing smile. "As for the positioning method that allowed me to locate you in the Chamber's depths—Harry, do you remember the protective charm I gave you?"

"Of course I do," Harry replied immediately, patting his robes until he found the small wooden token tucked safely in his inner pocket. He pulled it out and held it up to the candlelight.

That protective charm contained subtle space-time enchantments that creates a unique magical signature. He was able to track that signature through the transmission powder, which led him to Ron's location in the Chamber's corner.

Dumbledore fell into thoughtful silence.

The transmission powder had somehow bypassed Hogwarts' anti-Apparition wards. If Adrian could accomplish such a feat with his experimental magic, what might evil wizards achieve with similar techniques?

Perhaps it was time to research and strengthen the castle's defensive enchantments.

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