Harry Potter: The Bard of Hogwarts

Chapter 10: Chapter 10: Rolling to Death



Early the next morning.

Amid a clattering noise, Ino reluctantly opened his eyes. After scanning the surroundings, he found the source of the noise.

Old John was sitting outside the house, continually hammering something. The rhythmic clatter came from his hands.

"Awake? Then get up. Don't be like those lazy drunkards who sleep until noon," Old John called from outside.

Ino noticed that Old John seemed to have an inexplicable aversion to laziness, evident in his slightly resentful tone.

Though curious, Ino didn't delay his actions. He quickly got up from the bed, grabbed a towel and toothbrush from his bag, and began to freshen up.

...

"Old John, do people come to get their shoes repaired so early in the morning?"

Ino squatted nearby, watching the busy Old John with curiosity.

Seeing the tools on the ground, he had already confirmed Old John's profession—cobbler.

"Life has improved. Few people get their shoes repaired nowadays," Old John said without looking up.

After a while, Old John finally finished his work and sighed, saying:

"Even though few people repair shoes now, there's no harm in hammering more nails. Who knows if they'll be needed in the future? At least no one will be barefoot in the dead of winter."

Hearing this, Ino nodded empathetically, reflecting: "Too many people turn a blind eye to the suffering around them, yet they fantasize about being heroes and saving people far away."

This wasn't just flattery. During his two years of travel, he had seen too much suffering.

As mentioned before, when a place's story ends, everything returns to ordinary, mundane life.

Suffering often targets such places because the ordinary rarely creates miracles…

...

After hearing Ino's reflection, Old John uncharacteristically chose silence.

After a long while, he raised his head again, gazing intensely at the sky.

"Ino, you're right! Fantasizing about being a hero, only to find you can't even save those around you, makes one a huge joke."

At this moment, Old John uncharacteristically called Ino by his name instead of 'young man.'

This time, Ino didn't say anything more. He now suspected that the town's story might involve Old John. Even if he wasn't the protagonist, he was likely connected to the main events.

But seeing Old John's melancholic expression, he knew it wasn't the right time to delve into this.

"Ahem, Old John! My teacher once told me something, and now I pass it on to you."

Clearing his throat and waiting for Old John to return to his senses, Ino began: "He said: Life is like a small ripple, slowly spreading… So, the normal state of life is mostly a kind of regret."

Pausing for a moment, Ino continued:

"Old John, what I mean is, all lives have a light. It's like a burning matchstick—faint, warm, and brilliant. And before the match goes out, if it can light up others, even just for a moment, it shouldn't be called regret."

Time seemed to stop at that moment. A long time passed, or perhaps just an instant.

"You've really taught me a lesson, young man," Old John joked half-heartedly.

Despite being called 'young man' again, Ino wasn't annoyed. He clearly felt the sadness on Old John fading away.

A few minutes later.

Old John had packed up his tools.

"Alright, I'm off to work! If we're lucky, we'll have a good dinner tonight. If you're bored, you can walk around the small hill behind the town. It's safe there. In spring, many children go there to pick mushrooms."

"Okay, got it!"

Ino nodded and went to the room to grab his backpack.

Actually, if he had received this useful information when he first arrived, he would have been thrilled for a long time.

But now… the stage had already concluded. Would he keep an expired ticket for a souvenir?

...

On the small hill behind the town.

"Incendio!"

"Alohomora!"

"Reparo!"

Ino had chosen a secluded spot, ensuring he wouldn't be easily discovered, and started practicing magic following the "Standard Book of Spells, Grade 1."

As mentioned before, first-year Hogwarts students only needed to master seven spells.

However, to Ino, these seven spells were more like prefixes for many advanced spells. Like the 26 letters of the alphabet, mastering them allows one to form words and compose elegant poetry.

A simple example: the year-end exam in Charms class required a pineapple to dance across a desk.

This involved combining the Softening Charm, Levitation Charm, and the Locomotion Charm.

Similarly, Ino thought of Dumbledore's impressive "Firestorm," which might also be an advanced application of the Fire-Making Spell.

After receiving the owl's letter, he had been contemplating his future path. But no matter what, he could never take learning lightly.

"If you're not exhausted, just keep pushing yourself…"

With a sigh, Ino rubbed his sore wrist and then raised his wand to start a new round of practice.

For future plot considerations and his safety, he needed to quietly practice magic while his peers played Quidditch or pranked each other.

...

Time flowed like water, and a few hours passed in a flash.

Extreme focus can put one in a near-flow state, where time seems to pass unnoticed.

Until the surrounding light significantly dimmed.

"Hey, didn't expect to experience losing track of time…"

After snapping out of his focused state, a strong sense of hunger swept over Ino, making him feel like he could devour anything in sight.

Without further ado, he quickly took out some cheese from his bag and stuffed it into his mouth.

After eating two large chunks of cheese, he finally suppressed his hunger.

With a slight sigh of relief, Ino was captivated by the scene before him.

The evening glow, dazzling and magnificent.

The sunset's afterglow outlined the clouds, making the entire sky look as if it had been dyed with red paint—a breathtaking beauty.

The town below, with its various houses, was now emitting wisps of smoke, slowly rising to the sky. It looked like the clouds were gently descending to earth.

Sitting halfway up the hill, Ino felt like he was admiring a magnificent painting.


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