Hogwarts, eh...
Adrian Wesson didn't mind the idea; his school days at Hogwarts had, on the whole, been rather agreeable.
Perhaps being a professor wouldn't be bad at all?
Besides, if nothing unexpected happened, Harry would be going to Hogwarts as well.
If it helped advance the growth progress of the Tree of Wisdom, taking a post at Hogwarts seemed a sensible choice.
"I can try—teach," Adrian said.
"Excellent," Professor Kettleburn nodded in satisfaction. "I'll contact Dumbledore. With any luck, you'll receive a letter from Hogwarts in a few days."
Once Adrian agreed to give Hogwarts a try, Professor Kettleburn looked much cheerier and downed several glasses of mead in quick succession.
"Oh, right."
As he spoke, Professor Kettleburn tore the bandages from his arm. "I nearly forgot this."
Adrian's gaze went to the professor's arm—his prosthetic was in tatters, its surface scored with scratches of varying depth, and even marked by several obvious scorch lines.
He guessed the burns had been left by dragons; after all, Professor Kettleburn often wandered around dragon reserves or nesting grounds.
"The prosthetic you made me won't last much longer," Professor Kettleburn said regretfully.
Adrian rubbed his brow. "Professor, could you not keep out of trouble for once?"
"You should be saying that to the dragons. They can't keep out of trouble."
Professor Kettleburn unfastened the false arm as he spoke and handed it to Adrian. "Sorry, lad. Any chance you can mend it?"
Adrian took the prosthetic and examined it closely.
He remembered that when he'd made this piece, he'd used a wood that could repair itself—one of the materials produced by his 'Alteration' ability.
But it was obvious the damage to the arm before him had far exceeded its limit for self-repair.
He tapped it lightly and heard a faint hollow echo from within.
"No saving it, Professor," Adrian said with a frown. "What did you do with it?"
"Well..." Professor Kettleburn stroked his chin. "Roughly... first a Norwegian Ridgeback took a bite out of it, then I got it singed while taming a Hungarian Horntail... Oh, and I forgot to say—the Ridgeback that bit me was the one that hatched from the egg you gave me back then."
Watching the professor launch into a spirited account of the scene, Adrian's temple twitched. He couldn't help a sigh. "You were using it as armour, weren't you?"
"Haha—well, the quality of your prosthetics is excellent."
Adrian shook his head helplessly and passed the arm back to him.
"This one's beyond saving, Professor. Make do for a few days. I'll craft you a new set, but it'll take some time."
Professor Kettleburn refitted the false arm and flexed his shoulder. "No matter. It wouldn't be the first time I've worked one-handed. You go report to Hogwarts; fix it when you've time."
Adrian couldn't quite fathom why Professor Kettleburn was so keen for him to take a post at Hogwarts.
Still, it was kindly meant, and Adrian accepted it.
...
By the time he returned home, night had fully fallen.
Adrian entered the plantation and sent the Devil's Snare back to its station.
As the plantation's security system, the Devil's Snare was crucial; taking it outside was, truth be told, a risky move.
This wasn't a sealed pocket space—Adrian's case merely functioned as a doorway.
Although his magic was enough to hide this whole swathe of land, odd creatures did occasionally wander in.
Last year, for instance, a beast with horns bristling across its head and a humped back had slipped in.
The Devil's Snare dealt with it handily.
To this day, the creature's horn still sat among Adrian's keepsakes.
Leaving the first greenhouse, Adrian crossed a stretch of lawn and reached the second.
The second greenhouse was unusual: thanks to the Undetectable Extension Charm, the space inside was alarmingly vast—several Quidditch pitches' worth, stretching out of sight.
Here he kept mostly the larger species of plant.
In the centre stood a broad-crowned tree.
It was an ebony.
And because it grew in Adrian's plantation, this ebony was naturally a post-'Alteration' variety.
Unlike ordinary ebony, its branches and trunk shone a strange dark purple, almost metallic.
At Adrian's thought, the tree's details rose into his mind.
[Species: Ebony]
[Level: 3]
[Traits: Regeneration, Lightness]
[Status: Growing (12%)]
...
As everyone knew, ebony was a wear-resistant, heat-tolerant wood, commonly used in wandmaking.
It stood to reason it was also a perfect fit for crafting prosthetics.
The prosthetic Adrian had given Professor Kettleburn previously had been made from this tree's branches.
Its traits—Regeneration and Lightness—were ideally suited to prosthetics, which was why he'd kept the tree.
Unfortunately, its growth progress was painfully slow. It had reached Level 3 years ago, and even now the bar had inched forward to only 12%.
When Adrian reached the ebony's shade, he paused.
Something about the tree's aura felt off today.
He rapped the trunk experimentally, and a tiny head, sprouting a few leaves, poked out from a gap in the branches—a Bowtruckle.
This one was slightly larger than usual; its dark green skin held a purplish sheen, not unlike the ebony's hue.
It blinked its bright black eyes and watched Adrian warily, clutching a twig in its arms as though it were treasure.
"When did you sneak in?" Adrian arched a brow.
The Bowtruckle chirred twice, apparently displeased at having its nap disturbed.
Adrian took a moment to look it over and saw that the twig it hugged was a shed branch from the ebony. It had dried out, but faint traces of magic still clung to it.
"This is my tree," Adrian said with a laugh, reaching out to take the twig back. The Bowtruckle instantly recoiled, hugging it tighter.
It even glared at him, plainly with no intention of returning it.
"All right, have it your way." Adrian shrugged, letting it go.
It seemed the Bowtruckle had already decided this tree was home.
So long as it didn't gnaw the ebony to bits, there was no harm in letting it stay.
Adrian turned and left the greenhouse, returning with a small jar in hand.
Inside were a number of fairy eggs—one of a Bowtruckle's favourite foods.
Back beneath the ebony, Adrian opened the jar and gave it a gentle shake.
Hearing the sound, the Bowtruckle peered out cautiously. Its gaze locked on the jar; the leaves atop its head trembled, as though weighing whether to come closer.
"Want some?" Adrian teased, giving the jar another shake. The Bowtruckle nodded at once.
"Then make a deal with me," Adrian crouched and tapped a finger lightly to its tiny head. "You can stay here, but you'll help watch over this ebony. Don't let it come to harm."
The Bowtruckle cocked its head, considering.
A moment later it nodded solemnly, then spread its little hands, clearly asking for the eggs.
"Here you go, you greedy tot." Adrian took a small handful of fairy eggs from the jar and set them on the trunk.
The Bowtruckle scurried over and hugged the lot to its chest, gurgling in delight as it stuffed them into its mouth.
Seeing its blissful little face, Adrian couldn't help but smile and set the opened jar down beside the ebony.
Then he turned his attention to the tree, drawing his wand.
"Sectumsempra."
A silver flash swept by; a lateral branch of the ebony sheared off, dropping cleanly to the ground.
Adrian stooped to pick it up, admiring the cut.
"Sectumsempra is a brilliant pruning tool," he mused. "Professor Snape really is a genius."
The Bowtruckle shot him a wary look at the cutting.
"Easy. I'm only taking a bit of material; the tree isn't hurt," Adrian soothed, giving it a placating wave. "Look—it's already mending."
With Regeneration in play, tender new bark spread swiftly over the cut.
The Bowtruckle watched the healing seam; once satisfied the ebony wasn't harmed, it relaxed and went back to its fairy eggs.
Adrian weighed the sawn branch in his hand.
"Not bad," he said with satisfaction. "Far better than before!"
"Kettleburn will be over the moon with his new limbs!"
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