With no Tom and no Basilisk, the Halloween feast in the second year was exceptionally lively.
Everyone did their best to enjoy themselves, as curfew on the night of the feast was extended until midnight. After all, the next day was Halloween, a traditional holiday where Hogwarts gave students the day off.
Although the curfew was extended until midnight, most young wizards would slowly disperse after 10 PM.
Of course, this didn't mean they obediently returned to their dormitories to sleep.
That's because another feast awaited them in their respective house common rooms—a feast exclusive to their house.
...
In the Slytherin common room.
Even though everyone was gathered together, the ingrained hierarchy among the young Slytherins remained.
Based on family background and abilities, they formed small, complex cliques within the common room.
At this moment, Ino was sitting with only Draco, Pansy, and Daphne, representing the pureblood Sacred Twenty-Eight families: Malfoy, Parkinson, and Greengrass.
Other classmates of the same year would never voluntarily join this group.
Even though this wasn't Ino's intention, rules were rules, and the system was the system. Slytherin had its own set of traditions developed over a thousand years.
The lively atmosphere in the common room continued until 11 PM.
After 11 PM, though no one went to bed, the overall mood gradually quieted down.
Most were now sitting together, drinking pumpkin juice and butterbeer, eating various novelty candies, and chatting about interesting topics.
Feeling the time was right, Ino stood up and walked toward the largest group in the common room, made up of older students.
"Excuse me, Mr. Flint, could I borrow a few minutes of your time?" Ino smiled at the Slytherin Quidditch captain, Marcus Flint.
"Of course, Swinburne. Please follow me." Flint grinned, revealing his characteristic buck teeth.
The two moved to a quiet corner of the common room.
Ino looked at Flint and began, "I need a favor. Tomorrow during the holiday, I need to go somewhere, and I need the hair of a third-year or above student who is eligible to visit Hogsmeade."
He straightforwardly stated his request, subtly handing over two Galleons.
Ino had learned a bit about Flint over the past few days. The big guy was a kind of unconventional shrewdness.
Flint might not seem very bright, but he had his own set of rules: no benefit, no action.
In other words, he loved to gain advantages. If he thought he could benefit from you, even if not immediately, he would greet you with a smile.
Conversely, if he deemed you mediocre, useless, and valueless, he would drop the smile and become a stingy and rude senior.
"Hahaha, that's a small matter!" Flint, evidently used to such requests, naturally took the money, smiling even more broadly.
With a wave, the two Galleons disappeared into his pocket, and he promised, "I'll have it for you by 8 AM tomorrow. And don't worry about getting caught; the donor will stay in the common room until you return. I guarantee it!"
"I trust your word," Ino smiled.
Flint had a good reputation in Slytherin for reliability. There were no stories of him taking money and failing to deliver, and plenty of tales of him compensating double if he messed up.
After making arrangements, Ino informed Draco and the others before heading straight to bed. He needed to ensure enough sleep for his early trip to Hogsmeade.
"They don't even know how to break the rules properly; no wonder they get points docked..."
As he walked, he couldn't help but think of the stories about the Gryffindors sneaking to Hogsmeade.
Secret passages, invisibility cloaks—lots of fancy methods but not much brainwork.
Not only did they end up anxious and acting like shady wizards, but they also missed out on the experience, spending most of the time running through tunnels and exercising their legs.
...
The night passed without incident.
The next morning at 8, Ino arrived punctually in the Slytherin common room.
On the other side, Flint, yawning widely, got up from the couch when he saw Ino, took out a folded parchment envelope from his pocket, and handed it to him.
"Rick Spiro! Half-blood, third year. This is enough hair for you to use all day. Don't worry, I'm here!"
Ino took the envelope, "Thanks, Mr. Flint."
After exchanging a knowing glance, Flint headed back to his dorm, as holiday mornings were meant for sleeping in.
...
On the path to Hogsmeade.
A slightly chubby, short Slytherin student with a face full of acne was walking alone.
This was Ino after drinking Polyjuice Potion.
Having easily fooled Filch, he quickly made his way to Hogsmeade. The main reason was that the taste of the Polyjuice Potion was awful. Every sip tested his taste buds to the limit.
About half an hour later.
Ino hurried to a bookstore, bought a copy of "Advanced Potion Making," and then left the main commercial street, turning into a quiet alley.
Dervish and Banges shop was far from Hogsmeade's main street, located in a relatively secluded residential area, near the end of High Street.
This made sense, as it was primarily a repair shop.
Much like Muggle appliance repair shops, they were never on bustling commercial streets but nestled in community corners, convenient for housewives needing their appliances fixed.
In Hogsmeade, on a hidden street.
The houses stood quietly on either side of the street, their walls marked by the passage of time.
At the end of the street was a small, old shop less than 10 square meters in size.
The shop's walls were yellowed, and the sign above the door had faded long ago.
Despite its unassuming appearance, the shop had a unique charm.
The door was open, giving a clear view of its simple interior: a walnut long table, a high-backed chair, and a basic storage shelf, with nothing else.
An old man with white hair sat in the chair, wearing a dark blue robe. His face was lined with age, but his eyes were bright.
The old man wore black round glasses and was engrossed in his work at the table.
The walnut table was covered with various strange parts and tools. The old man occasionally picked up a tool, worked on it briefly, and put it back.
His movements were smooth, his hands deftly switching between wand and knife, each detail seeming meticulously planned. He appeared focused and steady.
Ino stood quietly at the door, not wanting to interrupt.
He waited until the old man put down his tools, pausing his work, and then gently knocked on the door.
"Good day, Mr. Davis!"