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Chapter 366: The Golden Apple and Hermione’s Resurrection
🕑 Added 2025-05-15 15:51:48 +0000 UTCThe seaside was breathtakingly beautiful. Endless golden sands stretched along the coastline, with fine, soft grains glistening under the sun's warm gaze.
Waves lapped against the shore, creating a steady, rhythmic sound, like the sea whispering secrets to the coastal city.
In the distance, the sea and sky melded into one.
The azure sky and the deep blue ocean intertwined seamlessly, making it impossible to tell whether the sky was reflecting the sea, or the sea was hanging from the heavens.
Beneath the Bitterwood Tree.
Hans, the middle-aged man, frowned slightly upon hearing Ino's words. A hint of melancholy deepened on his face.
Strangely enough, as his brows furrowed, the crashing of the waves grew softer, and the sea breeze became more subdued, as if echoing his mood.
"Not good? If you want, you can stay here, you know."
After a moment of silence, Hans finally spoke.
"Ah…" Ino sighed in response.
"If you had said that the first time we met, I might have actually stayed. But now… it's a little too late, isn't it?"
Hans chuckled gently, brushing off the sentiment as he plucked the strings of his wing-shaped harp once again.
"Time is never the problem," he said, then quoted in a lilting tone:
"The years may weather the body,
But it's the loss of passion that withers the soul."
"Don't worry, child. Everything will be alright."
The familiar cadence, the soothing melody—it all made Ino completely relax.
He kicked off his boots and stepped barefoot onto the warm sand, then used his suitcase as a pillow and lay down leisurely beneath the Bitterwood Tree.
At the same time, Hans gently strummed his harp, its distant notes harmonizing with the ocean's rhythm.
Above them, a flock of white seagulls appeared out of nowhere, soaring across the blue sky at just the right moment, crying joyfully.
Everything felt so... perfect.
In that peaceful moment, Ino slowly closed his eyes. The coldness that clung to him from the ice magic he once wielded faded from his face, and the once-dulled strands of his hair shimmered with a glossy black once more.
As the morning sun climbed high into a scorching midday and then mellowed into a golden dusk, the day quietly drew to a close.
At twilight, the fishermen who had set out at dawn began returning, sharing tales of the sea with loved ones waiting at the docks.
Whether it was a good haul or a meager one, their smiles remained unchanged.
Because they had come home safely.
The murmurs and chatter nearby stirred Ino from his nap.
"Awake at last? Any longer and we'd have missed dinner!" Hans said with a grin.
"Sorry, Teacher." Ino propped himself up on one elbow, rubbing his eyes as he sat up.
His gaze followed Hans's, toward the harbor where the returning boats bobbed in the fading light.
After a pause…
"Teacher, a friend of mine… she died." Ino finally said quietly, revealing the true reason for his visit.
Though he still had the Iceflower—theoretically capable of resurrection—he had no idea how to use it. And the passage to the Central Lands, where Lina was, remained closed.
Time was of the essence. He had turned to his old mentor, hoping Hans's vast knowledge might provide a solution.
Hans's reply was calm and unhurried, even at the mention of death.
"That's unfortunate. But if she's dead… well, let's bring her back."
He turned slightly, no longer watching the bustling fishermen.
"I remember you were always curious about that golden apple tree. As it happens, the fruit will ripen in a few days."
Ino felt a flicker of something in Hans's voice—something subtle, strange.
Just as he was about to bring up the Iceflower again, Hans rose to his feet.
"I'll go grab us some dinner. Dead fish are cheap this time of day."
He pulled a few copper coins from his pocket and strolled barefoot toward the harbor, leaving behind his ever-present harp by the tree.
Evening.
The ocean breeze gently danced across the beach.
A small bonfire crackled to life along the quiet shore.
Hans was grilling fish with laser-like focus, while Ino carefully laid out candies on a flat stone. These were leftover gifts from Christmas—he'd never had the chance to share them, what with the whole Voldemort situation—so he'd simply stuffed the lot into his suitcase before setting off.
As he placed the final piece of dried jackfruit, Ino looked up and asked curiously, "Teacher… can the Golden Apple really bring someone back to life?"
"Of course," Hans replied without hesitation.
Then, after a beat, he added, "In my experience, it's the best resurrection method there is. Bar none."
"You just stay put. In a few days, Miss Swallow will bring it to you."
Ino was speechless.
Something that precious… delivered straight to his doorstep? He had no idea what to say.
Perhaps sensing Ino's discomfort, Hans smiled and added gently:
"You don't need to feel burdened. The Golden Apple exists to save lives. No one else can pick it anyway. But… Miss Swallow does expect a favor in return for the delivery."
Ino could only respond with silence.
He already owed his teacher too much. That one enchanted divination die alone had saved him from starvation more than once.
Still, nothing in this world comes for free.
As he pondered this unspoken debt, Ino quietly accepted the grilled fish Hans handed him.
Time flowed like a river.
Life by the sea was peaceful, and seven whole days passed like a dream.
On the seventh morning, Ino watched the fishermen head out to sea once more.
He turned to pick up his accordion, ready to head into town with Hans to earn their supper by telling stories.
But this morning was different.
Even as the last fishing boat disappeared beyond the horizon, Hans remained seated under the Bitterwood Tree, unmoved.
"Teacher…"
"Shh. Look over there."
Hans raised a hand for silence and pointed toward the sky.
Against the vast blue canvas, a streak of gold approached from afar.
In an instant, a graceful swallow landed in front of them. Clutched in her small beak was a gleaming golden apple, nearly as big as her entire body.
"Phew! That nearly wore me out." The swallow gently dropped the fruit, then—miraculously—spoke.
Her voice was crisp and lively, like an energetic girl's.
"So, you're the one who asked for the Golden Apple, Mister Black Swan?"
"Uh…" Ino blinked, caught off guard.
"What? Don't want it anymore? Fine, I'll take it back!" The swallow flapped her wings, clearly ready to bolt.
"No no! I want it!" Ino quickly shouted, shooting a glance at Hans, who was clearly playing dumb.
"Great!" the swallow chirped. "Then you'll owe me a favor!"
"You get the Golden Apple, and in return, you have to help me take care of a little duckling—well, technically she's a swan like you. But right now… she's in a bad spot."
The moment Ino accepted the Golden Apple—
Far away, in the Great Hall of Hogwarts, the Farewell Banquet was underway.
The Goblet of Fire had long been extinguished. Come morning, Beauxbatons and Durmstrang would return home.
Hermione floated above the hall, bored out of her ghostly mind. Ino had promised he'd be back "soon"… but a week had passed, and still nothing. In that time, she had gained a very real understanding of what being a ghost truly meant.
The long tables groaned under the weight of a final feast, but she could only stare. What she wouldn't give for a big mug of honey lemon tea… sweet, tart, and real.
She drifted among the chatter, lost in her thoughts—
And suddenly, the entire hall fell silent.
Looking around, Hermione realized that every single person—students and professors alike—was staring at her.
She slowly raised her hand.
It was no longer the ghostly, lifeless pearl-white she'd grown used to.
It shimmered with radiant gold.
Not just her hand—her entire body was glowing, shining with a warm golden light. It was dazzling, brilliant… and yet, impossibly gentle.
She felt her body grow lighter. Her lost senses came rushing back.
She could smell the sea breeze.
She could taste the sweetness of cake in the air.
And then, under the astonished gaze of the entire castle, Hermione began to rise higher and higher.
A golden comet, streaking through the night sky.
