October, 2003
Nine years had passed since the abrupt end of the last Triwizard Tournament in 1994. Now, Hogwarts was once again preparing to host distant visitors from other magical academies.
At five o'clock in the afternoon, under Professor McGonagall's direction, all students and staff stood neatly assembled on the lawn outside the castle.
Far off in the sky, the grand carriage of Beauxbatons glided into view once more, drawn by a team of colossal Abraxans, glimmering under the sunset. A wave of gasps spread through the younger students as they witnessed the enchanted beasts for the first time.
As always, Rubeus Hagrid, now the Care of Magical Creatures professor, was already up front, holding an enormous red signal placard and waving it with enthusiasm to guide the Abraxans to land.
Toward the back of the crowd, Ino stood quietly, watching the scene unfold.
History, it seemed, was looping back on itself.
With a deep thud that trembled the earth, the Beauxbatons carriage landed smoothly.
The carriage door opened, and out stepped Madame Maxime, still towering at over twelve feet tall, her presence as regal as ever.
Only this time, it wasn't Dumbledore who greeted her.
Two female heads of Europe's most prestigious wizarding schools stood face to face, exchanging greetings as equals.
Meanwhile, Ino noticed several students discreetly lifting their handheld movie mirrors, magical devices that had become widespread over the years.
The student magazine founded years ago by Draco Malfoy was still running strong. Like the Quidditch captaincy, its editorship was passed down with care and tradition. Each graduating editor would choose a worthy successor before leaving.
Watching the younger generation bustle about with excitement and ambition, a soft smile appeared on Ino's face.
Unwittingly, his generation had already shaped the new culture of the castle.
After exchanging a few polite words with Professor McGonagall, Madame Maxime made her way toward the Hogwarts staff lineup.
"Long time no see, Headmistress Maxime!" Ino greeted her with a courteous smile.
"Indeed, it's been too long," she said with a sigh, eyeing him with something that could only be described as wistful. "Still turned down Beauxbatons in the end, didn't you?"
She looked at him as if he were the one that got away.
Years ago, before Ino had risen to fame, she had offered him a teaching post in Alchemy at her school, an invitation laced with promise. But in the end, he had chosen Hogwarts.
"It's not that I chose Hogwarts," Ino replied calmly, "It chose me a long time ago."
His respect for Madame Maxime remained unchanged. Not just for her connection to Nicolas Flamel, but for her decisiveness and grace.
Madame Maxime nodded thoughtfully, then suddenly shifted the topic.
"I won't be Headmistress for many more years. And Beauxbatons is still in need of a deputy head."
"Ahem!" Professor McGonagall let out a sharp cough, cutting in with a voice that was civil but cold.
"I've already arranged seats for Beauxbatons in the Great Hall. After such a long journey, I imagine your staff wouldn't refuse a nice cup of hot tea."
The words were polite, but her expression was anything but.
Trying to recruit Hogwarts professors in front of the Headmistress? If not for the diplomatic setting, she might have lost her temper then and there.
Maxime took the hint and stepped back graciously. The tournament would last an entire school year. There was time. No need to rush.
"Thank you, Headmistress McGonagall," she said with a slight bow and headed toward the castle with practiced elegance.
McGonagall watched her go, lips pressed into a thin line.
She was already regretting her decision to bring back the Triwizard Tournament. What she had envisioned as an honorable tradition had now become a poaching ground.
Her gaze flicked to Ino.
"I'm not planning to resign," he said before she could speak. "And you know I've only just begun teaching Magical Engineering."
"Good," McGonagall nodded, seemingly satisfied.
She paused a moment.
"Hogwarts could use a deputy head, too."
And with that, she turned away proudly, her eyes drifting to the distant lake.
Suddenly, the once-still surface of the Black Lake rippled violently as a massive whirlpool began to form.
8:00 PM, Great Hall.
The ceiling sparkled with candlelight. The feast was in full swing, and at the far end of the hall, the Goblet of Fire had been reignited.
This time, however, Professor McGonagall had issued a strict decree: No one under the age of seventeen was permitted to participate.
"I repeat," her voice rang clearly across the hall, "there will be no exceptions to the age rule. I trust you will all abide by it."
A chorus of groans and sighs swept through the student body.
But this wasn't 1994. This wasn't Dumbledore's Hogwarts.
McGonagall was stern, principled, and entirely unforgiving when it came to rules. No one dared test her resolve.
"Professor Swinburne!" she called out, and Ino rose from his seat.
"Ahem... As Professor McGonagall has said, I expect full compliance," he announced, tone casual but eyes sharp. "After the feast, I'll be setting up a protective boundary around the Goblet. Anyone who tries to bypass it will receive... an unforgettable experience."
With a subtle flick of his wand, a glowing field of rainbow light expanded around the Goblet, swirling like a soft, colorful cloud.
It looked harmless. Beautiful, even.
But the older students knew better. Especially the Gryffindors, whose groans were the loudest. Some looked downright heartbroken.
Of all the professors at Hogwarts, the one they feared the most wasn't strict McGonagall.
It was Swinburne, the ever-serene, unpredictably terrifying professor of Magical Engineering.
Many had grown up hearing stories about his past exploits. Thanks to the movie mirrors and the preserved battle footage, those stories had only become more vivid.
So, when they saw the glowing field take shape, most of them gave up hope entirely.
The feast eventually came to a close in a flurry of chatter and clinking plates.
As the professors departed, a few adventurous (or foolish) students crept toward the Goblet, eyes gleaming with mischief.
A small crowd gathered behind them, eager to see what sort of unforgettable experience Professor Swinburne had promised.
Meanwhile, the man himself was long gone, completely unaware of the attention his little barrier had inspired.
The night in the valley was calm as ever.
Stars glittered above like scattered diamonds. A gentle glow spilled from a small hillock nestled between two slopes.
Built into the side of the hill was a square-edged doorway barely five feet tall, flanked by two tiny windows.
From one of those windows, warm orange light now flickered gently.
"Bilbo..."
Ino's face lit up as he approached the cozy hobbit-sized home.
Over the past seven years, he had hosted many guests, and listened to countless stories.
Tales from Middle-earth always held a special place, and his old friend Bilbo had become something of a regular, much like the famed Grimm brothers.
Time, however, had changed many things.
The most significant being the severed connection with Lina.
It had been a relief, really. When the Sanctuary's portal to Middle-earth vanished, Ino had suspected this might happen.
Later, after venturing back into that world, he confirmed it.
With the ties cut, he felt freer than ever. He didn't know how Lina felt about it, but for him, the burden was gone.
So when he didn't find her in the Shire, he didn't go searching.
A tearful farewell wasn't necessary. Sometimes, it was better to leave quietly. It spared both sides the pain.
And as for Lina, perhaps this was her chance.
With no more shackles, the sorrowful White Witch could finally begin her own story.