"Eldra," Alaric continued, his voice echoing slightly in the vast conservatory, "show me your current information."
Name: Eldra (Tree of Wisdom)
Species: Oak
Level: 3
Traits: Information Analysis, Soul Link
Status: Growing (1%)
Upon seeing the Tree of Wisdom's current status, Alaric felt a flicker of genuine surprise, his brow furrowing slightly.
For three entire years, the growth progress of the Tree of Wisdom had remained stubbornly stagnant at 0%. No matter how meticulously he tended to it, or what esoteric methods he employed, he had been unable to move the progress bar a single fraction.
And yet today, that long-frozen bar had suddenly advanced by 1%.
"How... what changed?" Alaric murmured to himself, his palm resting lightly against the pulsing bark of the great oak. "Eldra, tell me. Why has your growth progress suddenly advanced?"
The branches of the Tree of Wisdom swayed with a soft rustle, and the emerald light flickered rhythmically. A moment later, a simple response entered Alaric's mind:
Reason: Unknown
Fair enough, Alaric thought. It seemed even the tree didn't fully comprehend its own evolution. He mentally reviewed every detail of the past few days, searching for any anomaly or significant event.
"Could it be... Harry?" Alaric's thoughts settled on the boy who had just left.
Harry Potter, the focal point of this world's destiny, had stumbled into his plantation today and shared a lengthy conversation with him. Perhaps Harry's presence had acted as a catalyst, triggering some latent reaction within the Tree of Wisdom?
Alaric's fingers drummed rhythmically against Eldra's trunk. "Well then," he whispered to the silence of the meadow, "I suppose I'll have to invite Harry back for another visit very soon."
One week later.
Because he had failed to return with Dudley's chocolate, Harry had been confined to his room as punishment. "Room," of course, was a generous term for the dark, cramped cupboard under the stairs.
Harry lay in the small space, staring listlessly at the low, dusty ceiling. His fingers toyed aimlessly with a loose thread on his blanket as he mentally counted down the months—seven long months until his eleventh birthday and the promised Hogwarts letter. Since learning he was a wizard, the anticipation had become a physical ache.
Suddenly, a soft, deliberate rapping broke the silence of the cupboard.
Harry froze, certain he must have imagined it. The Dursleys never knocked. They either wrenched the door open with a roar of commands or hammered on the outside to wake him up.
Knock, knock, knock.
There it was again. Confused, Harry unlatched the small door and peered out. The hallway was empty. He frowned, assuming he was hallucinating from the boredom, when a sudden breeze wafted from the end of the corridor.
A letter appeared out of thin air, fluttering down through the dim light until it settled gently in his palm. Harry's heart leaped. He tore open the envelope and pulled out the parchment inside.
Dear Harry,
I am Alaric Thorn; we met just a few days ago. If you remember me, I would like to invite you back to my plantation as a guest. I believe you still have much curiosity regarding our world, and I have a few things I would like to share with you.
If you are willing, please come to the shop tomorrow at one in the afternoon.
I look forward to your visit.
Alaric Thorn
Harry finished the letter, a surge of excitement warming his chest. "Tomorrow at one..." he whispered.
However, his joy was quickly tempered by reality. The Dursleys would never let him go out, let alone to a stranger's house. He would have to find a way to sneak away.
As luck would have it, fortune favored Harry the following day. The Dursleys were attending a garden party and wouldn't return until evening, and his dreaded cousin Dudley had headed out with his gang around eleven.
Walking toward Alaric's shop, Harry marveled at his own luck. When he stepped inside the potted plant shop, the layout remained largely the same, though the free-standing door had been moved to a quiet corner.
As Harry approached, the door swung open. Several thick vines snaked out from within.
Devil's Snare! Harry recognized them instantly, his skin prickling with sudden tension. Just as he expected to be dragged inside like the last time, the vines began to twist and contort in mid-air.
To Harry's shock, the vines carefully spelled out two words: "PLEASE ENTER."
Harry blinked, rubbing his eyes to make sure he wasn't dreaming. The vines had indeed formed the words with a certain fluid, almost elegant grace. Seeing him hesitate, the Devil's Snare gave him a gentle, encouraging nudge toward the threshold.
"Thank you, Mr. Devil's Snare," Harry murmured.
Stepping through, he found himself back in the massive conservatory. Rows upon rows of plants he couldn't name filled the space.
"Welcome back, Harry," Alaric's voice called out from ahead.
Alaric was standing before a patch of dark soil where a row of vibrant green stalks was growing. Curiously, these "weeds" were taller than Harry himself.
Seeing Harry's inquisitive look, Alaric explained, "This is Dittany. It's a staple in potion-making, prized for its extraordinary healing properties."
However, the Dittany Alaric was growing was far from ordinary. Typical Dittany barely reached half a meter in height; these stalks stood at least a meter tall. Alaric focused his mind, and the plant's data materialized in his vision:
Species: Dittany
Level: 1
Traits: Giantism
Status: Mature
A successful harvest, Alaric noted with a satisfied nod. This was the fruit of his Mutation ability. A mixture of specialized nutrient potions and the guidance of his unique magic had produced this "Giant" variant of Dittany. According to his tests, the essence extracted from these plants was significantly more potent than the standard variety.
Alaric plucked a few leaves, crushing them slightly in his hand. He then reached out, gently but firmly pulling Harry toward him and rolling up the boy's sleeve.
Harry's thin arm was mottled with dark, purplish bruises.
"Mmm," Alaric hummed, his brow knitting together. "To be honest, this is far worse than I anticipated."
Harry looked down, his voice barely a whisper. "How did you know, sir?"
"It's a simple matter for a wizard," Alaric replied smoothly. In truth, he had observed Harry's condition through the Tree of Wisdom's diagnostic lens:
Name: Harry Potter
Vocation: Wizard (Juvenile)
Status: Minor Contusions
"This might sting a little," Alaric warned. He pressed the crushed Dittany leaves over the bruised area.
Harry felt a sudden, sharp tingling, as if a thousand tiny ants were crawling across his skin. "It... it itches..."
A faint green vapor began to rise from the wound—the sign of the Dittany's magic taking hold.
"The efficacy is excellent," Alaric remarked, satisfied.
Harry nodded. Despite the strange sensation, he could feel the dull ache in his arm vanishing rapidly. He looked down to see the purple marks fading into nothingness, leaving behind smooth, unblemished skin.
"That... that's amazing," Harry breathed in awe.