Dark_Peace
patreon
Chapter 372: The Whole Truth (Part-2)
🕑 Added 2025-05-22 16:07:06 +0000 UTCClosing the book in his hands and returning it to Professor Hans, Ino fell into deep thought.
There was no question about it: the miracle he had experienced was thanks to Hans.
By all accounts, he should have continued journeying through various fairytales. But then… something changed.
From the moment he left Old John's quiet town just before the start of his first school year, things began to diverge. The stories no longer followed their usual rhythm.
Even though the memories were distant, Ino still clearly remembered that after arriving at Hogwarts, his first story world had been Narnia, followed by The Lord of the Rings, then the Brothers Grimm, Greek mythology…
And that strange turn of events—it all seemed to start after he entered Hogwarts.
He couldn't help but think: could it be… magic?
Before the thought settled, Hans' calm, middle-aged voice broke the silence:
"I'm truly sorry. None of this was supposed to happen…"
"I saw the fear and longing in your eyes back at the orphanage. I wanted to give my own tale a new twist… so I took the liberty of inviting you in."
"But after that… well, you know the rest. The moment you entered that castle, something changed. Something outside my control. The stories became… unpredictable."
Hans' voice carried a note of helplessness.
"I couldn't see the tales you went through afterward. To prevent further accidents, I planned to bring you back."
"But the accident happened anyway," Ino cut in quietly.
"Yes." Hans nodded, letting out a long breath. "Fortunately, it didn't end badly. While I still had the strength, I altered the story…"
…
Off to the side, Ino listened intently to the tale, only to feel—somewhat absurdly—that this all sounded like a bard giving his final performance, ready to bow and exit the stage.
"Professor…"
"Let me finish," Hans interrupted, smiling faintly. "Do you remember what I told you when we first met?"
Relying on the silent understanding between student and teacher, Ino paused for just a moment before reciting:
"Time may wrinkle the skin, but surrendering passion withers the soul."
"Exactly! I do not fear the passage of time," Hans replied, nodding slowly as his gaze drifted out to the boundless sea.
"But I've lost the fire I once had. Maybe… the moment I invited you in, my own story was destined to end."
Somehow, Ino realized that Professor Hans had suddenly become… old.
Not in the lines on his face—they were the same—but in his bearing. In the way a wizard might look after destroying the One Ring. Like Gandalf, wearied by the completion of a long and burdensome task.
"Miss Otter," Hans called softly.
The wind carried his voice effortlessly across the shore, and Hermione turned her head.
"Professor Hans," she said gently, walking toward the crooked sycamore under which he stood.
"I'm sorry. Because of me, you had to experience death," Hans said, lifting his blue eyes—calm and endless as the sea—with a flash of regret.
"Honestly, I don't have much to offer you in return. I'm just a poor, wandering bard."
He gave a small, sheepish chuckle, then—before either of them could speak—tore a page from the book in his hand.
It was, coincidentally, the page where the young boy had opened the door to the washroom.
"As a bard, I can only offer you stories… and the tool to write your own."
From his pocket, he drew out an item: a piece of chestnut wood, about nine inches long, one end carved to a fine point.
A humble pen—for storytelling.
"As for you, my dear student…" Hans turned to Ino with a knowing smile. He patted the wing-shaped harp hanging from his waist and said teasingly, "You can have this old harp. And don't think I don't know how many times you've secretly played it!"
…
In that moment, a wave of foreboding swept over Ino.
But before he could speak, Hans' body began to glow with soft starlight.
That glowing form lifted gently upward, tethered to the torn book page, and began to drift into the sky.
At about thirty feet above the ground, Hans' body dissolved into countless specks of light.
They scattered like fireflies in spring… like stars on a midsummer night… like oil lamps flickering in a winter storm…
As the lights flew skyward—
Everywhere: in enchanted forests, sprawling cities, remote mountain villages, endless seas, and snowy peaks…
Beasts, humans, elves, mermaids, even hidden witches and devils alike—all paused and looked up.
The summer night sky was stunning.
Starlit, bright, and magnificent.
…
Back on the beach.
Waves lapped at the sand. The wind whispered as it always had.
No one knew how much time had passed before Hermione finally broke the silence.
"So this is what you meant when you said the story would end? At the cost of Professor Hans' life?"
She no longer called him Mr. Hans. Somewhere along the way, he had become "Professor."
"Professor Hans' story has ended," Ino replied, raising his head to gaze at the stars.
"But ours… is just beginning. And besides, Professor Hans isn't dead."
Ino understood clearly: someone like Hans could no longer be measured by life or death.
He was more like a bard who had finished his tale, found a humble inn, and gone to sleep with a satisfied sigh.
And when the sun rose, he would rise again—ready to carry his stories to new lands.
"That's good," Hermione smiled faintly, brushing her fingers over the book and the chestnut pen.
"To be honest, I never really blamed him."
When she'd received the items, a strange image had formed in her mind—a hidden space unlike any she'd ever known.
A frost-covered path, lined with red maple trees whose leaves were etched with stories.
A single swaying ice-blossom stood beside them.
And coiled near the start of the path was a massive ice serpent—over seventy feet long.
Strangely, Hermione sensed she had complete control over the space.
She tried to command the serpent to crawl forward—toward a valley in the distance bursting with rainbow streams and blooming flowers.
But alas, while she could see it, she could not yet enter or change anything within.
…
At the same time—
Ino knelt and picked up the wing-shaped harp.
He gently plucked a string. The note that rang out was soft, sweet—blending perfectly with the sea breeze.
"Let's go home," he said. "It's been eighteen months. For all we know, people might have forgotten us."
"Yeah," Hermione nodded. "I miss Mum and Dad too."
She reached out and took his hand without hesitation.
A gust of sea wind swept across the shore—
And the two figures vanished from the coastline.
Professor Hans' tale had drawn to a close.
But Ino's story was just beginning.
And of course, so were those of the Brothers Grimm…
…and many other enchanting tales still waiting to be told.
