Harry Potter: The Bard of Hogwarts

"When dreams descend, every light is but a wish of your heart. And when the curtain falls, you shall no longer be the lonely star."

Lying beneath the soft sheets of his four-poster bed, Albus Dumbledore murmured the words to himself. They echoed through his mind, delicate and distant, as though whispered by the wind. It was Gellert's voice he heard—his voice and his prophecy.

And it was precisely because of that prophecy that Albus had refrained from questioning Ino further after confirming Hermione Granger's miraculous return.

The weight of those words—"your heart's desire" and "no longer alone"—carried a meaning only Dumbledore fully grasped.

So he surrendered himself to the rhythm of sleep, letting its gentle tide draw him in.

Elsewhere, at that same hour...

With the quiet snap of an umbrella opening, Ino vanished from the waking world—not to the valley he often visited, but somewhere far stranger.

A dream.

This time, he had chosen to step into someone else's dream.

Everything has its first time, and Ino had grown from awkward novice to a practiced weaver of dreams. Now, entering and navigating them felt as effortless as a bird gliding on a breeze.

The moment his feet touched the realm of slumber, he found himself floating high above a grand estate, its windows aglow with warm, golden light. The surrounding darkness seemed to part around it like velvet, and a strange sense of familiarity stirred within him.

As he drifted closer, the view through a brightly lit window made everything suddenly clear.

Inside, Draco Malfoy stood tall in an elegant dress robe. Across from him, Lucius and Narcissa sat regally on a luxurious sofa. And standing at Draco's side was a woman whose face flickered with a soft blur, cradling a child in her arms—a child of startling beauty.

Too beautiful, in fact.

The baby had soft, platinum-blond hair, eyes like bluebells after rain, and lashes so long they cast shadows on her cheeks. She looked like a porcelain doll freshly placed on display.

"My daughter?" Draco breathed in disbelief.

"What utter nonsense!" Lucius snapped, eyes narrowing as he scanned the room. "None of you find this odd?"

He had only intended to rest his eyes for a moment, and yet here he was, in a manor he didn't recognize—with his wife and son mysteriously present. And stranger still, a granddaughter and a blurred daughter-in-law had appeared out of nowhere.

Narcissa, ever the sharp one, took a different angle.

"Honestly, Lucius," she said with a smirk, resting her chin on her hand. "You're worried about the setting? I'm more interested in who Draco's wife might be. Let me guess—who's the lucky girl?"

Her gaze moved playfully between the little family scene, eyes gleaming with mischief and maternal warmth.

Something about it stirred memories in her, of the day she first brought Draco home from St. Mungo's. Back then, it had been she in the white gown, returning to the manor with a child in her arms.

"Come now, Draco," Lucius prompted, abandoning caution altogether. "Tell us. Who's the mother?"

He, too, had caught sight of something outside the manor windows—a fleeting figure in the sky that made his suspicions vanish. He recognized that silhouette. If Ino truly meant them harm, he wouldn't need to resort to elaborate dreams.

Draco, still dazed, suddenly remembered what had happened before he fell asleep.

Ino. He'd said he'd send him a dream. A beautiful one.

That knowledge brought him peace. After all, no one remembers a dream once they wake. So he relaxed, smiled faintly, and thought of someone. A girl who had once left a deep impression on him.

And then, the blurred woman beside him began to shift, her features slowly coming into focus.

Just as the image sharpened, a voice screeched from nowhere.

"This isn't right! It's moving too fast! Start over!"

Many scholars had debated Hogwarts' educational stages and claimed that fourth year was often the turning point.

Not just for studies.

For matters of the heart too.

Excluding the unusually precocious, most young witches and wizards found themselves thinking about love for the first time after fourth year.

Astoria Greengrass, now in her fifth year, was no exception.

She sat upon a throne of silver and white in a palace adorned with blooming roses, her white gown glittering under chandeliers of floating candles. A delicate crown rested upon her head. It hadn't taken her long to learn how this dream world worked. It bent to her thoughts. A domain all her own.

A smile tugged at her lips as she imagined who might step forward next.

And there he was.

A tall boy in a Slytherin-trimmed robe appeared before her. His face was unclear, but the robe's green embroidery sparked something in her memory.

She tilted her head, intrigued.

"Who could it be?" she whispered.

She had an idea, of course.

Astoria wasn't one to chase fairy-tales. She knew all too well that some things, however dazzling, were better admired from a distance. But she also understood her heart better than most girls her age.

As she pondered, the boy's face began to take shape.

Draco Malfoy.

Of course. That silvery hair, those sharp features. He stood there holding out flowers in one hand and a ring in the other, offering both with quiet confidence.

Astoria hesitated, then slipped the ring onto her finger.

The dream trembled.

And in the blink of an eye, everything changed.

Astoria thought she might scream.

She had expected kisses. Maybe a dramatic slow-dance. Certainly not... this.

A baby.

There was a baby in her arms.

Not that she didn't want children someday. But this? No buildup, no ceremony, just a sudden leap from proposal to parenthood?

"This is absurd! Back it up! Start again!" she shrieked.

The roses around her trembled as her voice echoed through the chamber.

"Nothing even happened and now I have a child? This is completely unfair! And you—Draco! Are you seriously just standing there? Get over here and help me take off these ridiculous shoes!"

All semblance of dainty pure-blood grace had fled her. In its place stood a stormy-eyed queen, full of fire.

But then, the world grew quiet.

Startlingly so.

Astoria blinked. Something was wrong.

The room felt too real. Her dream-husband, whose expressions had previously been fuzzy and generic, now looked alive. His eyes blinked with emotion. He seemed... aware.

And his parents were staring at her like she'd grown three heads.

"Um… is this still a dream?" Astoria asked cautiously.

High above, perched on the curve of the crescent moon, Ino watched the scene unfold.

Though wrapped in the night's shadows, he didn't move.

Instead, he remained there silently, legs crossed, as if asleep himself.

What he had just seen intrigued him.

Dreams, especially magical ones, weren't meant to be shared. Yet here they were—two separate dreams now joined. A connection not just of minds, but of hearts.

Perhaps it was magic. Or perhaps something else. But somehow, these dreams were no longer solitary.

Still, a thought stirred inside him, laced with unease.

Dreams might be harmless, but when shared without consent, they tread on dangerous ground. He would need to be careful. No one should be pulled into another's fantasies without choosing to enter.

So he traced it all back.

And there it was.

Draco had wished—openly, clearly—for this dream. Astoria had chosen to accept his proposal in the dream world, knowingly slipping on the ring. Their dreams had responded, woven together like two rivers merging into one.

It was, in every sense, mutual.

The only strange part was that the dream seemed to limit itself. It hadn't expanded across Hogwarts or filled the night with fantasy. It had remained bound, as though something had gently kept it enclosed to a single dormitory room.

Unusual.

But not unwelcome.

And so, Ino let the dream unfold.

After all, giving people a beautiful dream wasn't such a terrible thing.

Not at all.