Harry Potter: Westeros's Plant Life

Adrian's eyes swept across the transformed Great Hall, taking in every detail of the romantic chaos that surrounded him. He noticed that the flowers and confetti were all carefully arranged magical effects.

The house-elves must have been ordered by Lockhart to work through the entire night.

Of course, Adrian wasn't particularly bothered by this overwhelming pink decorative attack on the senses.

So, Adrian crossed through the drifting confetti and made his way to the staff table and settled into his usual chair.

To his mild surprise, he discovered that even the normally plain breakfast bread on his plate had been shaped into perfect hearts.

'Oh well, it doesn't really matter,' Adrian thought with philosophical acceptance.

He shrugged with indifference and picked up a piece of the heart-shaped bread, examining its craftsmanship before taking a thoughtful bite. The texture was surprisingly light and airy, with a subtle sweetness that hadn't been there yesterday.

'Hmm... strawberry flavored with hints of vanilla and rose water'

Even the bread had been infused with romantic flavoring—Lockhart's attention to detail was impressive in its thoroughness.

The Great Hall remained relatively sparsely populated at this early hour—just a handful of scattered students were in the house tables, and Professor Flitwick was beside Adrian at the staff table.

The students each wore expressions of curiosity, confusion, disgust, and various other emotions.

A group of giggling Hufflepuff girls whispered excitedly among themselves, as they pointed at various decorations. Meanwhile, a group of Gryffindor boys sat with their arms crossed and faces scrunched in obvious disgust, muttering complaints about the "girly nonsense" that had invaded their dining hall.

Several curious Ravenclaws had left their breakfast, and instead began studying the enchanted flowers with intense focus.

Clearly, the student's attitudes toward these pink decorations varied greatly.

Professor Flitwick, meanwhile, sat frozen in apparent bewilderment, staring with wide eyes at a magnificent magical rose that had somehow appeared in front of his plate.

When he noticed Adrian sitting beside him, he leaned over, "Adrian, my dear fellow, should I be wearing a pink bow tie to match this... this romantic apocalypse?"

"As you wish, Professor," Adrian replied with casual amusement, unable to suppress a slight smile.

With a wave of his hand, Adrian effortlessly transfigured the rose in front of Flitwick into a pink silk bow tie.

"Oh, good heavens, I was just joking!" Professor Flitwick exclaimed with mild horror, his eyebrows shooting up as he hastily pushed the ostentatious bow tie away. "Honestly, I don't like these decorations one bit... they're so overwhelmingly... pink. Who in Merlin's name is responsible for all this romantic carnage?"

"No need to think too hard about it," Adrian replied dryly, taking another thoughtful bite of his magically flavored bread. "This is obviously Lockhart's latest masterpiece—today is Valentine's Day, after all, and he never misses an opportunity for theatrics."

Professor Flitwick immediately covered his forehead with his right hand, his expression shifting to one of resignation mixed with 'I should have known better than to ask.'

"Valentine's Day... of course, Valentine's Day," He sighed heavily, his voice having the tone of someone who had just realized he would have to endure an entire day of romantic torture. "I should have guessed when I saw the first pink flower…..?"

Adrian chuckled softly in amusement. Clearly, Professor Flitwick was already developing a headache, and the day had barely begun.

Adrian, naturally, was more than happy to sit back and watch this theatrical production unfold.

"Ah, by the way," Professor Flitwick said suddenly, seeming to remember something important. He lowered his voice and leaned closer to Adrian, his eyes twinkling with curious mischief. "Adrian, if I may be so bold as to ask such a personal question, how old are you this year?"

Adrian raised a eyebrow in mild surprise at the unexpected question, "Twenty-seven. Why the sudden interest in my age, Professor? That's rather an odd question to spring on someone over breakfast."

"Twenty-seven..." Professor Flitwick repeated thoughtfully, stroking his silvery beard with meaningful pondering, as if this number held some importance in his calculations. "Though it might not be appropriate for me to say this, but... aren't you planning to get married anytime soon? A man of your age and accomplishments..."

"Cough cough—"

Adrian was immediately and thoroughly choked by his strawberry-flavored bread, his eyes began watering as he struggled to process this completely unexpected line of questioning.

He looked at Professor Flitwick with a mixture of amusement and utter exasperation, wondering if he had somehow been infected by the romantic atmosphere. "Professor, have you been adversely influenced by Lockhart's Valentine's Day madness today? This seems remarkably out of character for you."

"Ah, please don't misunderstand my intentions," Professor Flitwick quickly waved his hands, though he couldn't seem to help himself from continuing down this conversational path. "It's just that—well, you see, you rarely seem to have any female friends, do you? Even when you were a student here at Hogwarts, you weren't particularly popular with the girls, Logically speaking, such an excellent and accomplished wizard as yourself should have admirers lining up..."

Adrian listened to Professor Flitwick's increasingly personal observations while calmly sipping his pumpkin juice, which had also been enchanted to taste faintly of cinnamon hearts.

Professor Flitwick's words stirred memories in his mind

Indeed, for reasons he had never fully understood or bothered to analyze, he hadn't been popular with the girls during his school years.

It wasn't that he had been actively disliked or rejected. However, the only girl who consistently played with him was his sister.

'Wait! Could it be because of my sister...?'

Professor Flitwick continued his commentary, "Even our Professor Snape used to be pursued by girls during his student days, believe it or not..."

"!"

When Snape's name emerged from Professor Flitwick's mouth in this particular context, Adrian nearly spitted out his pumpkin juice.

He seemed to have stumbled upon some absolutely incredible gossip.

"And then what happened?" Adrian asked with great excitement, leaning forward with the eager anticipation. "Please tell me there are details to this story."

Just at that inconvenient moment, a black figure swept past their section of the staff table like a storm cloud given human form.

It was Snape!

Snape was wearing a stern expression, his eyes observing the surrounding pink chaos.

From his expression alone, anyone could tell that he found the pink decorations absolutely nauseating.

Seeing their subject of conversation appear, Adrian immediately fell silent and tried to look innocent, pretending to develop a sudden and intense fascination with the heart-shaped pudding in front of him.

The person they had just been discussing was now within hearing range—this was definitely not the appropriate time to continue such gossip about his romantic past.

Fortunately, Snape seemed completely focused on his own disgust with the decorations and paid no attention to their hushed conversation.

Professor Flitwick laughed somewhat awkwardly and smoothly changed the subject back to safer territory: "Ah... now what was I saying before? Oh yes, aren't you really planning to find yourself a partner??"

Adrian shook his head with calm certainty: "I'm honestly not interested in that sort of entanglement in these times, Professor."

He wasn't being dishonest or evasive—what could possibly be more important or fulfilling than the pursuit of magical knowledge and the achievement of his ideals for the future?

Illusory romance and its accompanying emotional turbulence would only serve to waste precious time and mental energy that could be better devoted to meaningful accomplishments.

Suddenly, an explosive uproar erupted throughout the Great Hall, it was the sound of hundreds of voices rising in surprise and excitement.

Adrian looked up from his ponderings and realized that somehow, while he had been absorbed in conversation, all the previously empty seats had mysteriously filled up with students.

The four house tables now buzzed with activity as breakfast continued amid the pink chaos.

"BANG!"

The doors at the entrance were suddenly thrown open, and Lockhart appeared in the doorway like a vision from a romantic nightmare. He was wearing an absolutely dazzling pink robe that seemed to shimmer with its own internal light source, it was so vibrant it almost hurt to look at it directly.

Like a protagonist who always understood the importance of making the most dramatic entrance possible, he had managed to time his arrival perfectly so that all eyes in the Great Hall were naturally drawn to his spectacular appearance.

Lockhart strode forward with exaggerated large steps, his arms swinging with practiced dramatic flair as he made his way all the way to the front of the Great Hall.

His perfectly styled hair caught the morning light, and his teeth gleamed with whiteness as he prepared to address his imprisoned audience.

"Happy Valentine's Day, my dear, dear students!" He announced in a booming voice that echoed in every corner of the hall, while countless additional pink confetti pieces began falling from the ceiling above like a romantic blizzard.

"Today is a day full of love and magic and wonder! And I—your devoted Defense Against the Dark Arts professor—have taken the liberty of preparing some very special surprises, hoping to chase away some of the unpleasant emotions that have been plaguing our beloved school!"

Adrian watched Lockhart's performance with the fascination of an anthropologist studying an exotic and particularly flamboyant species of bird. He genuinely wasn't sure what to say about this display of ego and romantic chaos.

His eyes swept across the hall, observing the expressions of those around him to gauge the general reaction to Lockhart's grand gesture.

Almost without exception, the other professors wore expressions of stern disapproval. Professor McGonagall's lips were pressed into such a tight frown that her mouth had become a thin line of displeasure, while her eyes flashed with the kind of controlled anger that said she was mentally composing a very strongly worded letter to the headmaster.

Snape's usual pale face had taken on an almost greenish tinge, as if the overload of pink in the hall was making him physically ill.

No one at the staff table spoke a single word of encouragement or approval.

Clearly, none of Lockhart's colleagues appreciated the romantic "surprises" he had prepared without consulting anyone else. The other professors looked like they were jointly planning various types of revenge.

Since the general faculty consensus seemed to be horrified silence, Adrian decided to follow their lead and remained tactfully quiet, settling back in his chair to wait for the continuation of Lockhart's undoubtedly spectacular performance.

Under everyone's strange and largely disapproving gazes, Lockhart cleared his throat, "Ahem. I am delighted to announce that up to this very moment, forty-seven people have sent me Valentine's cards—thank you all very, very much for your romantic appreciation! In honor of this overwhelming response, I've prepared some additional surprises that I'm certain you'll find absolutely delightful."

Adrian strongly suspected that Lockhart's boastful claim about receiving forty-seven Valentine's cards was complete fabrication. His reputation among the students was terrible.

Moreover, Adrian had seen Lockhart doing similar deceptive practices before, including the spectacle of sending romantic cards to himself and then pretending they had come from secret admirers.

"Now, please welcome your adorable little cupids!" Lockhart announced clapping his hands together with the enthusiasm of a circus ringmaster introducing the main act.

His prepared "surprise" emerged from a side door in a parade of absurdity that defied description.

It was a dozen or so dwarfs, each one decorated with obviously fake wings that looked like they had been hastily constructed from chicken feathers and wire. They carried tiny golden harps that seemed hilariously oversized in their short hands, and their faces had expressions of resigned embarrassment.

The overall effect was extremely ridiculous rather than romantic; they looked more like circus performers who had wandered into the wrong venue.

Lockhart looked at his recruited performers with obvious pride, apparently blind to how absurd they appeared: "They'll be wandering around the castle today, personally delivering Valentine's cards and messages to anyone who requests their services! If any of you romantic souls need to entrust them with special deliveries—don't be shy, just speak up boldly!"

Indeed, just as Adrian had somehow anticipated, Lockhart had managed to acquire these dwarfs who existed in the original story.

Honestly, dwarfs weren't suitable for playing the role of cupids—their costumes were somewhat... well... absolutely horrendous beyond any reasonable description.

Fine, Adrian had to forgive himself for not being able to find an adequately descriptor for this fashion disaster. The sight of grown dwarfs in pink ballet skirt and feathered wings might haunt someone's dreams.

Why Dumbledore would agree to allow these ridiculous performers to enter Hogwarts and terrorize the students was also a complete mystery.

Perhaps he had been temporarily blinded by Lockhart's enthusiasm, or maybe he decided that the school needed some comic relief after recent dark events.

"I believe that my colleagues will also participate enthusiastically in today's romantic festivities," Lockhart said while looking toward the staff table with optimism, completely oblivious to the hostile stares being thrown his way.

"Why don't you ask Professor Snape how to brew the most effective love potions? I'm sure he'd be delighted to share his expertise! Or perhaps have Professor Flitwick teach you some powerful popularity charms? Ah, he's quite good at that sort of thing! And there's Professor Westeros—this handsome fellow could probably even rival my own natural charisma!"

"Oh, spare me from this torture!" Professor Flitwick immediately buried his head in his arms like an ostrich trying to hide from predators, his voice was muffled by his sleeves as he considered the horror of students asking him for romantic advice.

Snape remained completely expressionless and utterly unmoved by this public humiliation.

Adrian, feeling like he was watching the best circus performance of his lifetime, cheerfully settled back to enjoy this magnificent farce.

You had to admit, it was quite entertaining.

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