— — — — — —
"What exactly are you doing?"
Tom circled the workbench, hands tucked behind his back. He didn't touch anything.
Aside from the machinery, his attention lingered most on the fine red threads that had been stripped away and laid out nearby.
"That's not magic," he said with certainty.
He knew magic too well to mistake it.
The red filaments looked like dried blood, dull and lifeless. If you called them matter, they dissolved the instant they were separated, impossible to preserve. If you called them energy, they were too faint, too still. Not even the slightest ripple.
"Doesn't it look like a cocoon to you?" Nicolas said, catching Tom by the shoulder before he could wear himself dizzy circling the table. "Don't fixate on the shell. What matters is what's inside."
"It took me over half a month to figure this out. If you induce resonance at a specific frequency, you can reduce the density of the cocoon. Then use high-speed rotation to fling off the outer layer."
"How long will that take?" Tom asked casually.
Nicolas fell silent.
After a long pause, he said uncertainly, "Three to five years? That should do it. At most, ten."
Tom stared at him.
Three to five years?
In three to five years he'd probably be able to crush the thing with one hand. Why go through all this?
Sure enough, alchemists weren't that different from scientists. They loved inventing things that looked useful but were ultimately pointless.
"Professor," Tom said suddenly, "what if… we let the Golden Apple Tree help?"
Nicolas's eyes lit up at once. He understood immediately.
The Golden Apple Tree was famously undiscriminating. Corrupt energy, pure magic, it devoured everything.
"Come on. Let's find Newt."
The old man acted without hesitation. He shut down the machine, grabbed the Tear of Isis, and dragged Tom out with him. As they walked, he added cheerfully, "Kids these days are sharp. I've been here several times lately and never thought of that. Maybe you're not entirely made of bad intentions."
Tom rolled his eyes. Was that praise or an insult?
"Professor, that's slander. I've never had bad intentions."
"Oh, right! You're rotten to the core. On you, bad intentions pass for kindness."
Bickering all the way, they arrived at Newt's house.
Newt Scamander and Tina were in the middle of dinner, so Tom and Nicolas shamelessly joined them before heading to the plantation together.
...
A heavy gloom blanketed the entire space. The temperature was over ten degrees colder than outside. Wisps of black mist drifted through the air, and twisted, ghostly silhouettes flickered within it. An ordinary person would have gone weak at the knees just stepping inside.
There was only one patch of purity.
Several hundred square meters by the lakeside where the Golden Apple Tree stood.
The tree radiated a faint golden glow. The ground around it was lush and vibrant, bursting with life.
Its growth was steady, though fruit was still a long way off. It had reached the flowering stage, blossoms open but no apples yet.
"I'm not sure this is a good idea," Tina said, eyeing the Tear of Isis in Tom's hand. "Feeding the tree something we don't even understand... what if the fruit ends up tainted? We don't know what this Tear of Isis might do."
"No need to worry." Tom smiled, brimming with confidence.
He had already consumed a Golden Apple before. So no one understood the tree better than he did. Lesser energies couldn't contaminate it. If they could, he would never have dared use water from the Inferi Lake as fertilizer. And the Tear of Isis was certainly not on a higher tier than the tree itself.
Since the tree's owner had given his guarantee, Tina let it drop.
The three of them stepped back as Tom approached the Golden Apple Tree with the Tear of Isis in hand.
At this stage of growth, the tree had developed a faint sentience. Aside from Tom, anyone who stepped onto the green patch would be attacked immediately.
As the tree's master, Tom was exempt. The moment he stepped onto the grass, the branches swayed gently in greeting. The soft golden aura intensified, as if wrapped in warm sunlight.
Tom couldn't help smiling. Watching the tree twist and sway felt like seeing a cute puppy wagging its tail.
Then, without warning, the Tear of Isis vanished from his palm—snatched away before he could react.
"..."
Tom's smile froze.
…So it was excited because dinner had arrived?
Tina burst out laughing at the shift in his expression. The two old men weren't far behind.
It was rare to see Tom at a loss. Nicolas quickly pulled out a camera and snapped a picture. He'd probably enjoy looking at it for months.
Tom ignored their gloating. If he wanted, he could snatch the Tear back. But this was exactly why he had brought it here.
So he simply watched as the Tear of Isis drifted forward and began spinning at incredible speed. Far faster than anything Nicolas's equipment had achieved. Red threads peeled away continuously, and the gemstone visibly shrank.
The stripped red filaments didn't scatter. They shot straight toward the Golden Apple Tree and were swallowed without a trace.
About five minutes later, the Tear of Isis had shrunk from the size of a duck egg to that of a pigeon egg. But the light inside it burned brighter and brighter.
The once-muted green clearing was now awash in interwoven gold and red.
Crack!
A sharp sound like shattering glass rang out.
Tom's eyes snapped up. The final protective shell fractured inch by inch, then fell away completely, revealing what had been sealed inside.
Calling it a tear no longer felt accurate.
It looked more like blood.
Or rather… a tear of blood.
The moment the blood tear appeared, the weeds at their feet began to grow wildly. Tom drew in a breath and felt nothing unusual, but the three elders beside him were another matter entirely.
A vast tide of pure life force surged outward.
The wrinkles on Newt Scamander and Tina's faces visibly smoothed and lightened. The slack skin at the corners of their eyes tightened slightly. Nicolas felt the brittle weakness in his bones harden and strengthen. His back straightened a fraction.
He was already regretting not bringing Perenelle along.
Farther off, the forest erupted. Beasts roared. Dark creatures shrieked. The entire space seemed to benefit from the blood tear.
Tom moved to seize it back.
But the Golden Apple Tree was faster.
Its branches transformed into several supple golden tendrils, lashing through the air with sharp whistling sounds. In a flash, they touched the floating blood tear.
The two fused instantly.
The gold and red glow above the clearing merged as well, then collapsed inward toward the tree. In mere seconds, the Golden Apple Tree completed the entire flowering process. Three brilliant golden apples, each the size of a fist, now hung from its branches.
The sudden turn left Nicolas and the others stunned. They only came back to themselves when Tom strode beneath the tree and kicked the trunk several times.
"How can you be this greedy?" he snapped, delivering a sharp kick. "Even the pandas have better table manners than you. If it were of any use to you, would I not have given it? You could've at least let me study it first."
"Um... Fine, you ate it. But only three apples? Tell me, how much did you pocket?"
The Golden Apple Tree remained silent. Of course it did. It had never learned to talk.
Instead, it responded with action.
Thud.
The three golden apples dropped to the ground.
At the same time, the lush green leaves faded before their eyes, turning yellow and curling at the edges. The vibrant clearing took on the bleak look of late autumn.
Seeing this, Tom realized he'd wronged it.
He reached out and patted the thick trunk. "All right, all right. You're loyal. Very loyal. Keep up the good work. Next time, grow a few more."
The tree had clearly expended a massive amount of essence. It no longer radiated that lively intelligence. Its branches drooped slightly, offering no response.
Tom picked up the three apples and stepped out of the tree's territory.
His mood had steadied.
The Tear of Isis itself wasn't the important part. What mattered was whether it had been real. If it was genuine, then it proved that so-called gods had once existed. Of course, not true deities, but unquestionably wizards of unimaginable power.
Letting the Golden Apple Tree absorb it wasn't a loss. Better that than having it stolen by Voldy.
"An unexpected windfall?" Nicolas asked with a teasing smile, eyeing the three apples in Tom's arms.
"Something like that." Tom gave a helpless nod.
At this point, what else was there to say?
They might as well go back, sit in a row, and divide the spoils.
After they left the plantation, the little world there gradually returned to quiet.
Not long after, a faint hint of green flickered at the tip of one withered branch. Around it, the shriveled weeds began to stir back to life, and a new cycle quietly began.
.
.
.