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Chapter 346: The Black Lake in Winter
🕑 Added 2025-04-12 18:40:05 +0000 UTC"Oh my…"
Hermione covered her mouth, letting out a soft gasp of delight.
Inside a four-inch gift box lay a set of jewelry shimmering with the gentle glow of moonlight.
The first thing that caught the eye was a stunning necklace. The chain was delicately woven from fine strands of silver, and at its center hung a smooth, teardrop-shaped moonstone pendant.
Even though it was daylight, the moonstone emitted a soft, mysterious glow. The light was faint, like a dream under a moonlit sky—elegant and beautiful, evoking romantic images of strolling beneath the stars.
Beside the necklace lay a pair of rings, each crafted entirely from moonstone.
Compared to the intricate necklace, the rings were much simpler. They were polished to a smooth finish, with faint, straw-like patterns carved into the surface.
Despite their simplicity, Hermione's wide eyes remained fixed on the rings, momentarily ignoring the more elaborate necklace altogether.
…
After a long pause.
"Straw rings…" she whispered, as if savoring the words. Then she lifted her chin with feigned indifference and said, "I gave you one too, once. But you never wore it. I suppose you've received so many others, mine probably ended up in a drawer somewhere."
Though her tone was dismissive, the subtle redness around her eyes and the soft curve of her lips betrayed the emotions she was trying to hide.
"I never threw away the straw ring," Ino replied gently, picking up the thread. "No matter what it is, a gift holds the heart of the giver. But those others—they were mass-produced. What I've made for you… is one of a kind."
"Oh?" Hermione raised an eyebrow, the corner of her lips twitching into a smile. "And what makes it so special?"
"Before I answer that," Ino said, pointing to the necklace still resting in the box, "you should try the necklace on."
"Don't underestimate it," he added. "It took nearly everything I know about alchemy to make."
"You made all this yourself?" Hermione's expression shifted once more.
If earlier her smile had been soft and amused, now it was lit with genuine joy.
"Yes. Everything. Even the materials."
Without another word, Hermione picked up the necklace. The silver thread slipped gently around her neck, and the clasp clicked softly into place behind it. A wave of warmth and tranquility washed over her the moment it settled against her skin.
Even though they were out on the lake in the heart of winter, with snow drifting gently from the sky, she no longer felt the cold.
"What is this?" Hermione asked, puzzled.
"Alchemy," Ino explained with pride. "It not only keeps out the cold and heat, but I've added several other enchantments as well…"
He began listing the details like a collector introducing his prize. Compared to the simple rings, the moonstone necklace was where he had truly poured his effort.
It was inscribed with ancient runes and enchanted with spells from Nicolas Flamel's personal notes—including a triggerable Protego charm.
…
After a short while.
"I still like the straw ring more," Hermione said decisively.
The necklace was undoubtedly more practical and valuable, but she had a clear preference—and made no attempt to hide it.
"Well," Ino laughed, spreading his hands, "as long as you like it."
He glanced at the box still in her hands.
"I gave you your Christmas present early… but shouldn't I be getting something in return?"
Following his gaze, Hermione looked down and noticed the slightly larger ring still in the box.
She pursed her lips, smiled playfully, and said, "Then consider this my gift to you—Mr. Swinburne."
…
There was something about warm conversation that made time slip by unnoticed.
Outside the castle, the surface of the vast, tranquil lake was calm, undisturbed by wind. A small boat drifted gently on the water.
Snow fell steadily from the sky above.
Hermione leaned comfortably against the wooden beam where the boat's oil lamp hung.
Her posture was casual and relaxed, but her eyes kept drifting to her right hand, where the moonstone ring now rested on her pale, slender finger.
And while she admired her own ring, she didn't forget to glance at Ino's hand as well—where an identical ring gleamed softly.
As if reminded of something amusing, Hermione chuckled lightly and slowly extended her hand.
When the two rings touched, soft flakes of light began to emerge around them, shimmering in the air like falling stars.
The glow was delicate and beautiful, like stardust in the night sky.
But instead of simply enjoying the sight, Hermione suddenly pulled her hand away, making the magical glow flicker and vanish.
Then she did it again. And again.
It wasn't much of a game, really—but she found it endlessly entertaining.
Watching her, Ino smiled quietly.
Her playful antics reminded him of himself not too long ago.
The time he'd spent casting Incendio beneath a bridge over and over again—like playing with a magical lighter. He'd amused himself for hours.
…
Eventually, the playful mood settled.
Hermione tucked a lock of hair behind her ear and spoke more seriously.
"There are still three months left until the second task. I wonder if the Felix Felicis will be ready in time."
"Felix Felicis?" Ino blinked, momentarily confused. But then it clicked—she meant the potion they were brewing in the Room of Requirement.
"Speaking of potions," he added, "Professor Snape's been acting strangely lately. Always rushing off somewhere. Does he still tutor you?"
The first task's unexpected chaos seemed to have deeply affected Snape. Although Harry had come out of it unscathed and the Ministry hadn't taken any action, the Potions Master had been like a wound-up clock ever since—rarely seen outside of class.
"No," Hermione shook her head softly. "After term started, he stopped teaching me altogether."
"He said that if I could brew Felix Felicis on my own, then there was nothing more he could teach me."
…
Meanwhile, as the two of them talked about him in passing, Severus Snape was sealed away in the depths of his office.
He had shut himself inside a hidden chamber—once used to imprison Peter Pettigrew. Its secrecy spoke volumes.
The room was small, perhaps ten square meters at most, cloaked in shadow and silence. The only light came from a single flickering candle.
Along one wall stood shelves lined with jars of half-processed ingredients. Opposite them was a round stone table, no more than two feet in diameter, with a bubbling cauldron at its center.
And beyond that, at the far end of the room, stood a longer wooden workbench.
Snape sat at the bench, deeply focused, his brow furrowed in frustration as he flipped through the pages of an ancient, timeworn tome.
Beside it lay another book—a thin volume bound in black leather that gave off a somber, ominous air. The red script across its cover read:
"Advanced Secrets of the Dark Arts."
