The morning after receiving Ronan's warning and Trelawney's interpretations came as cold and gray over Hogwarts Castle, the January was sky heavy with clouds that promised snow.
Adrian stood at his office window, watching students hurry across the courtyard toward their first classes of the day, their breath was misting in the frigid air.
He'd barely slept the last night, his mind was churning through possibilities and plans, trying to decipher what danger might come for the Tree of Wisdom in three days' time.
Three days. That was all the warning he had.
He touched the windowpane, feeling the cold glass beneath his fingertips. His reflection stared back at him—perhaps looking slightly more tired than usual, with faint shadows under his eyes that even magic couldn't quite conceal.
But otherwise, he appeared normal, composed, ready for another ordinary day of teaching.
Except there was nothing ordinary about what was coming.
Adrian turned away from the window and began preparing for his first class of the day. It was Monday morning, which meant he had the sixth-year students for Care of Magical Creatures.
This particular class was always interesting because the students were old enough to handle more dangerous creatures, yet young enough to still maintain enthusiasm rather than the pessimism that sometimes crept into seventh-year students who were focused entirely on their upcoming N.E.W.T. examinations.
Today's lesson would focus on Graphorns not the creatures themselves, of course, as they were far too dangerous to keep on Hogwarts grounds but rather their behavior patterns, habitat requirements, and the theoretical context for understanding aggressive magical creatures.
It was the kind of lesson that required his full attention and careful preparation, yet his mind kept drifting back to the prophecy, to the Tree of Wisdom, to the image he'd seen dissolving in Trelawney's basin.
He forced himself to focus. Whatever was coming would arrive whether he worried about it or not. In the meantime, he still had responsibilities, still had students who depended on him to teach them properly. Allowing his anxiety to interfere with his duties would help no one.
Adrian gathered his teaching materials of several reference books on Graphorns, a detailed anatomical chart he'd created, and his personal notes on the three occasions he'd observed the creatures in their natural mountain habitats. He placed everything carefully in his satchel.
As he worked, there was a soft knock on his office door.
"Come in," Adrian called, expecting perhaps Hagrid, or possibly one of his house-elves with a message.
Instead, Hermione Granger entered, looking somewhat hesitant. She was dressed in her school robes with her Gryffindor scarf wrapped tightly against the cold, and she carried an armful of books that looked ready to topple at any moment.
Her bushy hair was pulled back in a practical ponytail, though several curls had already escaped to frame her face.
"Professor Westeros," she began, then paused, seeming uncertain how to continue. "I'm sorry to bother you before class, but I... I wanted to ask about Harry."
Adrian's expression softened. Of course she would be worried. "Come in properly, Miss Granger. Close the door—it's freezing in the corridor."
Hermione did as instructed, then stood awkwardly holding her books. Adrian gestured to one of the chairs near his desk.
"Sit, please. You look like you're about to drop those books."
She settled into the chair with relief, placing the heavy stack on the floor beside her. Adrian noticed several titles related to magical healing, soul magic, and even one rather advanced text on the theory of consciousness that was typically reserved for seventh-year students preparing for Healer training.
"You've been researching," Adrian observed gently.
Hermione nodded, her eyes were bright with unshed tears that she was clearly fighting to control.
"I've been trying to find something, anything that might help him wake up. Madam Pomfrey says there's nothing physically wrong with him, that his body is healthy, but he's been unconscious for over a week now, Professor. That's not normal. That's not just simple unconsciousness from magical exhaustion or a stunning spell."
Adrian sat down in the chair across from her rather than behind his desk, making the conversation less formal.
"No, it's not," he agreed honestly. "What Harry is experiencing is more complex than ordinary magical injury."
"It's his soul, isn't it?" Hermione said softly, her voice was just a whisper. "Something happened to his soul. I've read about soul damage in these books, and all the symptoms match. The long unconsciousness, the inability to focus his eyes when he briefly woke, the speech difficulties... it all points to soul trauma."
Adrian was impressed by her deductive reasoning, though not particularly surprised. Hermione had always been exceptionally bright and thorough in her research.
"You're correct in your assessment," he confirmed. "Harry's soul has been injured. I cannot give you all the details, some of this is Harry's private medical information —but I can tell you that we are working on finding a treatment."
"Is there a cure?" Hermione asked desperately, leaning forward in her chair. "In all my reading, I haven't found a single reliable cure for soul damage. Most texts say it's permanent, that souls don't heal the way bodies do."
"Most texts are written by people who have never successfully treated soul damage," Adrian said carefully.
"The wizarding world's understanding of the soul is remarkably limited. We know souls exist, we know they can be damaged or even fragmented, but very few wizards have studied how to repair such damage. It's considered dark magic by many, or at least deeply dangerous magic that most researchers avoid."
He paused, considering how much to reveal. Hermione was tightlipped, and she clearly cared deeply about Harry's wellbeing. More than that, her research might actually make her feel less worried and maybe even prove to be useful.
"There may be a way to help him," Adrian continued slowly. "But it requires resources that are extremely rare. I'm working on acquiring what we need."
Hermione's face lit up with hope. "Really? What kind of resources? If there's anything I can do to help, any research I can conduct or materials I can find—"
Adrian held up a hand gently. "Your dedication to your friend is admirable, Miss Granger, and your research skills are exceptional. But this is not something a student can help with, I'm afraid. What Harry needs is beyond anything you could find in the library, even in the Restricted Section."
"Then what does he need?" Hermione pressed. "Please, Professor. I feel so helpless just sitting there watching him lie unconscious. Ron and I visit every day, and there's never any change. We talk to him, hoping he can hear us, but there's no response, no sign that he's aware of anything. It's like he's trapped somewhere we can't reach."
The description was more accurate than she knew, Adrian thought grimly. Harry's consciousness was indeed trapped, separated from his body by the damage done when Voldemort had extracted that fragment of his soul.
"What Harry needs," Adrian said carefully, "is something that can restore what was taken from him. Think of the soul as... as a tapestry, perhaps.
When a thread is pulled out, it leaves a gap, and the whole structure becomes weaker. To repair it properly, you need to replace that missing thread with something similar, something that matches the pattern and strength of the original."
Hermione absorbed this metaphor; her quick mind was already working through. "So you need soul…. soul's energy? Soul energy that can be integrated into Harry's damaged soul to fill the gap?"
"In Principal, yes," Adrian confirmed.
"But where could we find such a thing?" Hermione wondered aloud.
"Souls aren't like potions ingredients you can harvest or purchase. They should be unique to each individual, and attempting to transfer soul energy from one person to another would be... well, it would either fail completely or cause terrible damage to both parties, wouldn't it?"
"Under normal circumstances, yes," Adrian agreed. "However, there are certain magical phenomena that generate pure soul energy without requiring extraction from a living person. These are exceptionally rare, but they do exist."
He could see Hermione's mind racing, trying to think of what he might be referring to. She was intelligent enough to figure it out eventually if she kept researching, but Adrian didn't intend to explain about Voldemort's fragmented soul or the confrontation that was likely coming. She didn't need that burden.
"The important thing for you to understand," Adrian said gently, "is that I and Headmaster Dumbledore both are actively working on a solution. Harry will not remain in this state permanently. I promise you that."
Hermione looked at him searchingly, as though trying to determine if he was simply offering false hope to comfort her.
Whatever she saw in his expression must have satisfied her, because she nodded slowly.
"I trust you, Professor," she said quietly. "You've always helped Harry before; you've trained him in defensive magic. If anyone can help him now, it's you."
The faith in her voice made Adrian feel the weight of responsibility more heavily. He hoped that he would be able to live up to that trust and it won't be too late.
"Now," Adrian said, deliberately shifting the conversation to lighter ground, "shouldn't you be heading to your first class? What do you have this morning?"
Hermione glanced at the clock on Adrian's wall and gasped.
"Ancient Runes! I'm going to be late!" She grabbed her books in a rush, nearly dropping several in her rush.
"Take your time," Adrian said with a small smile. "Professor Babbling is quite understanding. And Miss Granger? Try to get some rest. You're no good to Harry if you exhaust yourself."
Hermione paused at the door, looking back. "Thank you, Professor. For everything."
After she left, Adrian sat quietly for a moment, thinking about Harry lying unconscious in the hospital wing.
The boy had already been through so much—losing his parents as an infant, growing up with the Dursleys, facing Voldemort repeatedly, carrying a piece of that monster's soul in his own head for fifteen years.
And if Adrian's suspicions were correct, if Voldemort was indeed the threat that the prophecy warned of, then within three days he would have the means to cure both Harry and his sister.
If he was defeated.
Adrian shook off the dark thought. He couldn't afford doubt now. He had to believe he would succeed, had to trust in his own abilities and the strength of his bond with the Tree of Wisdom.
He gathered his teaching materials and headed down to the grounds for his Care of Magical Creatures lesson.
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