August 5, 1993.
With less than a month left of summer vacation, it was an otherwise unremarkable day.
However, today held significant meaning for Ino; it was his 14th birthday, or more precisely, the day he arrived at the Krum Children's Welfare Institute.
...
On the sixth day of staying at Newt's small estate.
Early in the morning, after washing up, Ino went to the dining room to enjoy the breakfast carefully prepared by the house-elf.
As soon as he sat down at the table, the once empty surface filled with delicious food: a serving of golden fried dumplings, a glass of freshly squeezed orange juice, and a small dish of bright chili sauce.
"Kiki, the Chinese breakfast is excellent!" Ino praised, looking at the dishes on the table.
As his voice fell, a light pop sounded in the air, and a house-elf, about two to three feet tall and wearing a linen tunic, appeared out of nowhere on the ground.
It seemed that house-elves and Gringotts goblins had some similarities, as both had bat-like pointed ears and disproportionately large eyes.
After appearing, the house-elf immediately placed one hand on its chest and bowed deeply.
"Serving Mr. Swinburne is Kiki's honor. Your praise makes Kiki truly happy."
House-elves are generally not accustomed to appearing in people's sight. After bowing and expressing thanks, another light pop sounded, and the elf vanished from the spot.
However, fate seemed to have destined this day to be extraordinary.
Just as Ino was about to enjoy his sumptuous breakfast, a red shadow flashed by, and a second visitor appeared.
Fawkes the phoenix arrived with a wrapped gift box and placed it on the table. Unlike Kiki, who would linger for a moment, Fawkes demonstrated perfect efficiency, dropping off the gift and disappearing in an instant.
Ino was not annoyed, understanding that they were not familiar with each other and couldn't expect Fawkes to be as affectionate as a cat.
Opening the letter tied to the gift box, it was no surprise to find a birthday present from Dumbledore: a thick book.
The book appeared to be quite old, bound with hemp thread and parchment, and had no title on the cover. Opening the first page, he saw a sentence written there:
"The value of life is not in its length, but in the sacrifices we make for higher goals — A tribute to every future Dumbledore."
Seeing this sentence, Ino immediately recognized it as a historical compilation of the Dumbledore family.
"What a truly great white wizard..." Ino sighed with a touch of admiration.
Perhaps Dumbledore's achievements were not mere accidents. Even in a world without magic, with such a character, he would undoubtedly have made significant contributions.
Moreover, this was a magical world where dreams could come true.
...
British Isles, London.
In a three-story residential building in Manchester's Stone District.
On the third floor, in a room decorated in cool blue tones, Hermione sat quietly at her desk, resting her chin on her hands, daydreaming.
She was calculating the time; in half a month, it would be the last week of the summer vacation as promised.
On the wall opposite her, there was a clipping from the Daily Prophet, or rather, a front-page photo — a large picture of someone performing at the Hogwarts stadium.
"Even though I didn't ask, can't you just give me an autograph..."
Hermione pouted at the photo, mumbling in a complaining tone.
Every time she saw the newspaper, she got angry. Everyone in her dormitory had an autograph except her! She could only secretly stick the newspaper up at home, unlike some shameless girls who pasted it on their dormitory beds.
Even though she didn't ask Ino for it directly, still...
"Knock! Knock knock!" The crisp sound of knocking on the door interrupted her thoughts.
"Come in!" Hermione said, quickly opening a book on her desk, pretending to study.
"Ha! I knew it, a certain girl is daydreaming again." Mrs. Granger, upon entering the room, immediately noticed her daughter's unusual behavior.
"Mom!" Hermione complained, "If you're so free, why don't you go help Mr. Granger at the clinic? His hair is already turning white."
Mrs. Granger, quick-witted, retorted:
"Yes! I should help Mr. Granger. But you? Helping Mr. Swinburne?"
"Stop trying to argue with me. At least... haha, at least put your book the right way up!"
"Huh?" Hermione exclaimed in surprise. Looking down, she saw that her copy of "Jane Eyre" was upside down.
She stopped talking, choosing instead to engage in silent resistance.
But her silence only amused Mrs. Granger. "It's nothing, really! You're 14 now."
Glancing at her daughter, Mrs. Granger sat on the bed and continued:
"Like this book 'Jane Eyre,' it's considered a model of modern women's literature. Why does it receive such praise? Not just because of Jane's attitude toward love. I think it's more about her wisdom, knowing the difference between love and affection when dealing with Rochester and Rivers."
Mrs. Granger stopped, knowing her daughter well. Hermione was smart and opinionated; some things only needed to be hinted at.
After a while.
"Thank you, Mom! I understand. Love is not like it's depicted in novels, full of pastoral scenes."
Hermione said, her gaze turning toward the window.
August in London, though not as rainy as October, was not entirely dry. Looking southward, dark clouds were gathering, accompanied by gusts of wind.
It seemed a thunderstorm was coming.
Retracting her distant gaze, Hermione continued:
"Just like Jane, her pursuit of love was always filled with twists and turns. But if a bit of wind and rain could stop me, how would such laziness prepare me for the future I've planned?"
"Alright! As long as you understand." Mrs. Granger smiled at her daughter.
"True wisdom lies not in talking about oneself, but in listening to others talk about themselves. But I do like Ino; if you get a chance, bring him home again so your dad can meet him."
"Ino doesn't like visiting other people's homes, I don't know why." Hermione, a bit frustrated, shook her head, her previously neat brown hair instantly becoming messy.
"Stop shaking your head! Either use a hairpin to tie it up or get some good smoothing serum; no one likes a girl with messy hair."
Mrs. Granger felt a bit weary. Her daughter seemed to understand but not entirely, still somewhat unkempt.
The dark clouds in the sky had crept closer, and a gust of wind blew in from the window, further messing up Mrs. Granger's already untidy brown hair.
Likewise, the wind also tousled Hermione's hair.