Harry Potter: The Bard of Hogwarts

Confusion often engulfs those involved, while clarity favors the observer.

This saying isn't just a platitude; it profoundly reflects how different perspectives can view the same issue differently.

"Thank you, Hermione!" Ino expressed his gratitude earnestly.

Looking at the girl standing shoulder-to-shoulder with him, he no longer saw her with the mindset of an adult looking at a child.

"It's nothing!" Hermione replied casually, but she instinctively turned her head to the side, avoiding direct eye contact.

With just a brief glance, Hermione felt the difference in Ino's gaze, deep and bright. Under such a gaze, she felt a bit flustered and unnatural.

Ino didn't pay much attention to the change in her demeanor. His mind was filled with conjectures about the transformation of fire elements.

If fire with special properties could take on various forms, the difference between a mere flame and a self-attacking fire rune snake would be vast.

Its performance wouldn't just double; it would essentially be like having an intelligent combat assistant. Moreover, as long as the fire burns brightly enough, more than just a rune snake could be born...

A brief exchange of a few minutes.

He felt that he had gained more from this conversation than from half a year of solitary exploration, a sense of joy welled up within him.

Hermione also felt joyful; this was an exceptionally good start.

She had now made up her mind to find time to study Potions, because the good results in front of her fundamentally stemmed from that bottle of Felix Felicis.

"I have something to discuss with you regarding Transfiguration." After much hesitation, Hermione decided to strike while the iron was hot, directly taking out a double-sided mirror from her pocket.

"Professor Snape gave me this before the holidays, and I want to give the other side to you, so we can communicate about Transfiguration more efficiently."

A slender, fair hand held a round mirror about two inches in diameter.

Hearing Snape's name and looking at the double-sided mirror in front of him, Ino suddenly felt a sense of time's sedimentation, as well as a touch of transcending time.

About twenty years ago, in the same castle and the same house.

If a Slytherin and a Gryffindor had truly exchanged double-sided mirrors, perhaps the whole story would have changed dramatically.

...

"Alright! Let's use the mirror to discuss when we have time."

This time, Ino didn't hesitate and gently put the double-sided mirror into his pocket.

"Yes! Through the mirror!" Hermione nodded heavily.

At that moment, another voice came from behind them.

"Although I really want to pretend I didn't see anything, I must remind you two that it's less than a quarter-hour until curfew."

Professor McGonagall, holding her forehead, spoke with a hint of helplessness.

With decades of teaching experience, Professor McGonagall knew well that such things couldn't be forbidden and couldn't be stopped.

The vague affection between students, as long as it wasn't excessive, had always been something she tacitly allowed, after all, everyone went through their student days.

But these two in front of her gave her the impression of not being very smart.

Clearly knowing that curfew was imminent, yet they still stood there unmoving. If there had been another way through the corridor, she wouldn't have wanted to interfere.

...

Hearing Professor McGonagall's voice from behind, Ino immediately turned around.

"Sorry, Professor! We were just discussing Transfiguration and lost track of time. We'll head back now."

Discussing Transfiguration? Hearing this explanation, Professor McGonagall's eyelid involuntarily twitched, feeling somewhat offended.

Late at night, alone in a corridor with a girl, and telling her they were discussing Transfiguration. But thinking of them as good students she valued...

"So, have you finished discussing? If so, head back!"

With the change in Professor McGonagall's tone, Ino hadn't yet reacted before he felt his sleeve being gently tugged.

Then he saw Hermione lower her head and hurriedly head toward the moving stairs.

...

Nine o'clock at night.

Ino returned to the dormitory just in time for the weekend curfew.

The day's gains left a faint smile on his face.

Hearing the dormitory door open, Draco poked his head out from the canopy bed.

"You're back so late today? Nothing happened, right?"

Hearing this concerned inquiry, Ino responded with a smile, "Go to sleep, I'm fine!"

"Oh!" Draco replied, then retracted his head back.

After a while.

Draco's voice echoed in the dormitory again:

"Ino, do you have any way to make money?"

"Make money?" Ino asked hesitantly, thinking that the Malfoy family never lacked money.

"Yes! Make money!" Draco poked his head out again. "I want to make money to buy a Firebolt!"

With Draco's explanation, Ino understood the reason. But it made him find it amusing; a Firebolt wasn't just any ordinary broomstick.

"Two thousand five hundred Galleons, how will you earn that?"

"I have many shares in my name! My grandfather set them up when I was born." Draco blurted out without thinking.

"Shares?" Ino raised his eyebrows in surprise, "So, are you daring enough to sell them?"

Draco instantly fell silent. He didn't dare to sell them, and even if he did, he couldn't. He couldn't even mortgage them.

Because the circle was too small, no one dared to buy Malfoy's shares privately.

...

Seeing Draco bury his head, Ino ignored him and instead pondered the topic of making money.

It was a problem he had always overlooked.

Fairy tales and life never conflict, and for the research on the Mirror of Erised, or even changing the wizarding media, having enough Galleons was a prerequisite.

Without money, many things would be difficult to achieve and would become complicated.

For the first time, Ino began to think about ways to make money in the future.

However, whether it was writing books or singing, it was just a hobby; he didn't want to follow Lockhart's path.

But after excluding these two, he couldn't think of any way to make money immediately.

It wasn't that he lacked the ability, but the market had long been divided by pure-bloods.

Take wands, for instance. A young wizard's first wand purchase doesn't exceed 10 Galleons, but a suitable unicorn hair for a wand costs as much as 10 Galleons. Ollivander's wasn't a charity.

Therefore, every wand sold would get a substantial subsidy from the Ministry of Magic, but no one knew the exact amount.

But one thing was clear: it was very profitable. However, since 382 B.C., only Ollivander's wand shop had existed.

That weathered, peeling sign wasn't just a mark of history; it also seemed like a silent warning.

While contemplating how to make money, Draco surprised him again.

"Ino, let's smuggle!"

"Pfft… cough cough! Say that again?"

At this moment, he realized he had underestimated the boldness of pure-bloods and couldn't help but re-evaluate Draco.

But contrary to expectations, Draco nonchalantly said, "I have anonymous shares in a dragon farm. My mother gave them to me, and no one knows!"