Adrian gently rubbed the crystal-clear leaf, observing it for a while.
Apart from its jewel-like transparent appearance, there didn't seem to be anything special about it.
But according to the information provided by the Tree of Wisdom, it contained pure soul power.
'So, what was its purpose?'
Adrian looked at the Tree of Wisdom.
[Name: Eldra (Tree of Wisdom)]
[Type: Oak]
[Level: 3]
[Properties: Object Analysis, Soul Connection, Soul Purification]
[Status: Growing (99.9%)]
The Tree of Wisdom had, at some point, acquired a new attribute—Soul Purification.
This leaf must be a product of this ability.
Over the next few days, Adrian continued to study the leaf and collect related information.
Time passed quickly, and soon the Christmas holidays approached.
Adrian also finally ended his days as the substitute Defense Against the Dark Arts professor.
The good news was that, perhaps because the time wasn't long enough, the legendary curse hadn't manifested on him. At least Adrian hadn't felt the presence of any curse.
Three days remained until Christmas.
In the morning, Adrian was drinking tea in his office as usual. Recently, he had been having house-elves deliver all three meals to his office. This saved him the time of going to the dining hall. Over time, that added up to quite a lot.
Suddenly, an urgent tapping on the window interrupted Adrian's thoughts.
He looked up to see a grey raven pecking at the glass window, with a dark green envelope clutched in its talons. Adrian put down his teacup and opened the window to let the owl in.
This unfamiliar owl held its head high, dropped the letter on the desk, and immediately flew away, not even acknowledging the owl treats in Adrian's hand.
"Well, I guess you're not hungry..."
Adrian shrugged, put down the treats, and picked up the letter from the desk.
He immediately recognized the familiar handwriting—an elegant, flowing italic script where each letter ended with a small flourish.
It was his adoptive mother's handwriting.
Adrian eagerly opened the letter.
[
Dear Adrien:
Merry Christmas!
Snow is falling outside the window. I've added a luminous Christmas tree beside your sister's bed, and I recently found a photo of both of you in front of the Hogwarts Express.
Although she's still the same, constantly in a coma, your father says her physical condition has been good lately.
And fortunately, we've gained some insights into her illness.
That's good news, isn't it?
Additionally, the hospital has introduced a batch of potions from the other countries, it's said to be effective against dark magic damage. I really hope they can have some effect...
Lastly, remember to come home on time for Christmas.
Love you,
Mom]
A very brief letter. After reading it, Adrian carefully folded it and put it in a drawer.
In previous years, he would always go to America to spend Christmas with his family. Of course, this year would be no exception.
Since his sister fell into a coma, his parents had been stationed long-term at a magical hospital in America.
Adrian had once tried to persuade them to come to St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries, since their home was here. But in the end, Adrian's parents chose to stay there.
They insisted that the treatment there was more effective because they used both Muggle and wizard healing methods. Since wizarding methods hadn't worked, why not try Muggle ones?
That was their thinking.
Although it hadn't had much effect so far...
At this moment, another tapping at the window interrupted Adrian's thoughts.
This time it was an owl carrying a package and an envelope. After dropping the package and envelope on the desk, it hurriedly flew away.
"It seems the owls are all very busy today..."
Picking up the envelope, the embossed golden Ministry of Magic emblem gleamed on it, with "Portkey Office" printed in large letters below.
"Finally, here..."
Adrian murmured, opening the envelope. A piece of high-quality parchment slid out:
[
To: Professor Adrian Westeros
Upon review, your application for a transcontinental Portkey permit has been approved.
The requested Portkey (a silver teaspoon) has been delivered.
Destination: Visitor Reception Area (New York).
Note: Do not use this Portkey for illegal item transportation. Violators face fines up to 500 Galleons.
]
Indeed, this was the Portkey usage permit from the Ministry of Magic. For just a few Galleons, one could borrow a Portkey from the Ministry.
Of course, these Portkeys were strictly controlled.
However, because of Adrian's position as a Hogwarts professor, he easily obtained permission from the Ministry.
As for why he applied for a Portkey? Long-distance Apparition was not within Adrian's consideration—that feeling was not pleasant.
In comparison, a Portkey seemed much gentler. At least Adrian preferred the feeling of a Portkey.
Plus, Adrian needed to stay in America for two weeks, and this was to avoid unnecessary troubles.
Next, Adrian put down the letter and opened the package. Inside was a dirty silver teaspoon that seemed to have been used for a long time.
People always preferred to make Portkeys out of less conspicuous items, like the severely worn silver teaspoon in Adrian's hand.
As a result, people often accidentally lost their Portkeys. This was also why the Ministry strictly controlled Portkeys.
In the afternoon, Adrian arrived at the entrance of The Three Broomsticks in Hogsmeade, carrying a suitcase.
Just a few days ago, his retired professor, Kettleburn, told him that he had found a way to place the torch.
Pushing open the wooden door of The Three Broomsticks pub, warm air mixed with the sweet aroma of butterbeer greeted him.
He immediately spotted Kettleburn in the corner.
"Professor." Adrian walked over and hung his cloak on the back of the chair.
He noticed that Kettleburn's remaining arm had new injuries, with bandages peeking out from his sleeve.
"Good afternoon, Ed," Kettleburn smiled and took a sip of mead. "You look very energetic today."
Adrian pulled out a chair and sat down, casually placing his suitcase on the table, and pointed at the exposed bandage. "What's that?"
"Ah, this?" Kettleburn waved his arm dismissively. "Just a bite from a little dog. I wish it had bitten my other hand—the prosthetic you made is much harder than my real hand."
"I could replace this hand with a prosthetic too," Adrian said.
"Get lost," Kettleburn cursed with a laugh.
He raised his glass and took a big gulp of mead, golden foam covering his beard.
"Madam Rosmerta," Adrian called toward the bar. "A butterbeer, please, sent over here."
"And another mead," Kettleburn shouted as well.
________________
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