Harry Potter: The Bard of Hogwarts

That night.

Close to midnight, Ino heard a rustling sound in the dormitory, followed by the sound of the door opening a moment later.

However, less than 20 minutes later, the dormitory door opened again.

Hearing the noise, he couldn't help but smile wryly.

Malfoy really never changes, or perhaps he's just persistent... In any case, he must have gone to inform Filch to catch them in the act.

"Let flowers bloom, let trees grow…" Ino sighed quietly while lying in bed.

Other people's stories had nothing to do with him; he was just a storyteller.

…

In the Trophy Room on the fourth floor.

In the moonlight, the crystal glass cabinets displaying the trophies sparkled, the trophies, shields, medals, and statues reflecting a faint silvery metallic sheen.

The room was silent.

Three young wizards were slowly moving along the walls inside the room.

Harry was holding his wand, his eyes fixed on the corridor ahead.

It felt as if an enemy could appear in the dark corridor at any moment.

Time passed by the minute.

"It's already past midnight. Why haven't Malfoy and his gang shown up yet?" Harry asked nervously.

"Who knows? Maybe he's scared or maybe he overslept. But it's just as well Malfoy isn't here, considering we have an annoying tag-along with us. I don't even know why she bothered to join," Ron said, getting impatient and taking his frustration out on Hermione.

"I never intended to tag along. Do you have any idea how many points you've lost since the start of term?" Hermione retorted sharply, not letting Ron off the hook. She continued, as if she hadn't said enough, "This is a trap. How have you not figured that out yet? A duel at midnight? Ha, only you would believe that and even goad Harry into it."

Listening to the argument behind him, Harry began to feel he had been tricked, especially since it was already past midnight. This only made him feel more certain that Malfoy had fooled him.

"Forget it. Let's go back. Malfoy probably isn't coming," Harry said, turning to the other two.

"Let's go. Tomorrow, I'll make sure everyone at Hogwarts knows what a coward Malfoy is," Ron said angrily.

Meanwhile.

At the end of the silent corridor, a sudden noise made the three of them hold their breath.

After a while, a series of intermittent mutterings broke the silence in the darkness.

"Where could those little brats be hiding... Don't let me catch you... Hiding in the corner..."

That highly recognizable duck-like voice immediately confirmed the speaker's identity for the three: Argus Filch, the Hogwarts caretaker.

"Let's sneak out quietly before he finds us…" Harry whispered, beginning to back away.

However, before he could finish his sentence, there was a loud clatter behind him.

It was clear that someone had knocked over a trophy. In the darkness, Harry couldn't see who had been so careless, but the loud noise had already alerted Filch.

"Ah! Got you, you nasty little brats!"

"Run! Don't look back," Hermione shouted, grabbing the other two, and they all ran madly.

Even though they had been discovered, Filch hadn't seen their faces, so their only option now was to run and later deny everything.

Hermione's idea was a good one, and Harry and Ron agreed. The three of them ran with their heads down, sprinting all the way.

…

Half an hour later.

Harry, still in shock, returned to the dormitory. He really wanted to go home, back to the small, cramped room under the stairs.

He couldn't understand why Hogwarts kept such a beast, as big as a car, in a brightly lit corridor's abandoned room.

While Harry was still recovering from the scare, elsewhere in the castle.

The fourth-floor corridor.

The door to the room where the three-headed dog was kept suddenly closed on its own.

Then, a brilliant magical glow flashed across the door.

The wooden door that Hermione had easily unlocked with a spell now gave off an aura of being unbreakable.

…

Slytherin dormitory.

After a night of peaceful sleep, Ino opened his eyes in the morning to find Malfoy sitting in a chair, looking dejected.

It wasn't hard to guess that Malfoy had gone out early to check the house points hourglass, and seeing no significant change in Gryffindor's points, he realized his plan had failed.

Feeling a bit down was normal.

However, being just a ten-year-old, his bad mood quickly passed.

After washing up in the morning, it didn't take long for Malfoy to forget his previous disappointment and start talking about today's classes.

"Ino, do you think the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor will teach us some powerful spells today? I'm sick of transforming needles or messing around with that stupid feather," Malfoy said.

Hearing the mention of Defense Against the Dark Arts, Ino was momentarily taken aback.

Coming back to his senses, he replied truthfully, "I advise you not to get your hopes up about the Defense Against the Dark Arts class. They won't teach you anything other than basic spells in your first year. At most, you might learn a distress signal spell."

In his view, proper magical education should be gradual and systematic.

If you start with earth-shattering spells, it's no longer magic, but mythology.

…

Ino doused Malfoy's hopes with a cold dose of reality, then picked up his Defense Against the Dark Arts textbook and left the dormitory.

Honestly, if he could, he would rather not face Quirrell, or at least not deal with Voldemort at this stage.

Although he had the protection of Occlumency, facing a once-powerful Dark Lord was unpredictable.

As Dumbledore once said, never underestimate the experience of a century-old man. Counting his true age, Voldemort would be a senior citizen in the Muggle world.

Especially at this stage, with all seven Horcruxes intact, Ino didn't want to test Voldemort's wisdom and reasoning.

That said, even though he was internally resistant, some things had to be faced; there was no avoiding them.

The only option was to go with the flow, as any form of evasion would only attract more attention.

"If only I knew the Obliviate spell…" Eno thought to himself.

If he could, he would selectively erase his memories about Quirrell temporarily.

Sometimes, knowing too much just exposes more vulnerabilities.

…

Sixth floor of the castle, Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom.

There were still fifteen minutes before class, but the classroom was already filled with young wizards.

After all, since the start of term, this was the first time they would finally have this class.

Just listen to the name, Defense Against the Dark Arts. These words alone gave off a sense of sophistication.

Thus, whether Slytherin or Gryffindor, everyone was quietly sitting in the classroom, all with expectant expressions on their faces.

Even Harry and Ron, who had been tricked by Malfoy, were now just glaring at him.

But there was no quarrel as usual when they met.