Sixth Floor, Hogwarts Castle
Transfiguration Office
Professor McGonagall sat alone at her desk, looking uncharacteristically fatigued. The recent chain of events had taken its toll on her.
What was supposed to be a standard Triwizard Tournament had twisted into something entirely different after one unexpected incident.
She wasn't yet sure how the international wizarding media was reporting the situation, but she doubted the headlines were favorable. In the worst case, Hogwarts might end up being seen as more tolerant of the Dark Arts than even Durmstrang—a title no one at the school would welcome.
That thought alone was enough to give her a headache.
With a quiet sigh, she stood and walked to the window. The frozen surface of the Black Lake reflected the pale winter light, and the edge of the Forbidden Forest stood stark and still beyond. Despite everything, the familiar landscape brought her a small measure of comfort.
Knock, knock, knock.
A steady knock at the door pulled her back to the present.
"Come in," McGonagall called, waving her wand to open the door.
"Good afternoon, Professor," Ino said as he stepped inside, smiling politely.
She blinked in slight surprise. It had only been a day since their last meeting, but something about him felt subtly different. Or perhaps it was just that she, after the recent chaos, felt noticeably older.
"Ino? This is unexpected," she said, recovering quickly with a dry smile. "You're usually busier than I am. I'm impressed you found time for a visit."
"Oh, don't be like that, Professor," Ino replied calmly, taking a seat. "No matter how busy I get, I'm still a student."
That answer, simple as it was, struck the right tone. McGonagall appreciated students who knew their place without being self-effacing.
"Very well then, exceptional student," she said, a bit of humor in her tone. "Let's hear it. What brings you here? As far as I recall, aside from the Animagus matter, you've never visited my office voluntarily."
Ino nodded. "It's about my roommate, Draco. He's had this idea to start a student magazine—something lighthearted, entertainment-focused."
He went on to explain the entire concept, laying it out clearly and concisely.
McGonagall listened attentively, her expression unreadable. Ino, out of respect, remained quiet once he'd finished.
A few thoughtful moments passed.
"I agree in principle," McGonagall said at last, nodding. That, from her, was as good as permission.
Ino didn't respond immediately. He sensed there was more she intended to say.
As expected, she continued, her tone firmer. "One condition. I don't care what you write about—student life, gossip, mischief—but professors are not to be the focus. Or at least, not in a way that would create problems. I don't want to be put in a difficult position because of this magazine."
She watched him closely, gauging his reaction. Truth be told, if it weren't for Ino's involvement, she wouldn't have even considered allowing this. Too many students over the years had tried starting publications, only to abandon them after a short burst of enthusiasm.
Ino responded without hesitation, "You have my word, Professor. Students' ups and downs, their squabbles and stories—that's what this magazine will be about. Of course… if something seriously unjust happens, we might mention it. But that won't be our focus."
McGonagall regarded him for a long moment, then nodded with approval.
That was the answer she expected. Had Ino promised to never mention a professor at all, she would've found it suspicious. His balanced response felt genuine.
"Very well. You have my blessing," she said. "And more than that—I'll make it official."
She opened a drawer in her desk and pulled out a clean piece of enchanted parchment. With a few swift strokes of her quill, she drafted something on it and passed it across the desk.
Ino stared at the parchment, blinking in surprise.
He had come to negotiate rent, assuming it would be a sticking point. But McGonagall hadn't mentioned it once.
Still, he couldn't in good conscience pretend it didn't matter.
"Professor… I think you might have overlooked something," he said, pausing for emphasis. "The rent. After all, this isn't a Hogwarts-sponsored project."
McGonagall looked momentarily surprised, then gave a rare laugh under her breath. Perhaps in all her years, this was the first time a student had offered to pay rent without being prompted.
Two hours later.
Ino left the Transfiguration office with a formal-looking parchment tucked under his arm.
As he walked through the quiet corridors, he glanced down at the document again. It looked ordinary enough—standard enchanted parchment—but at the top, a Hogwarts crest shimmered faintly in silver ink, and McGonagall's signature was unmistakably present.
"Seven Galleons a year," he murmured. "It's official now…"
In the magical world, proper contracts often carried latent enchantments, making them more binding than even oaths. This one, in particular, seemed to hum faintly with a connection to the castle itself.
The first step was always the hardest.
But now, Hogwarts—one of the three great magical academies in Europe—had officially approved a student-run publication.
Sure, it would only bring in a mere seven Galleons per year. But it was the principle that mattered: revenue earned independently from the Board of Governors. A symbol of autonomy.
From one comes many. If it succeeded, perhaps Hogwarts would one day become as self-sufficient and independent as Beauxbatons.
Back in the dormitory.
Draco's eyes lit up the moment he saw the contract. He looked like someone who had just drunk a whole bottle of cheering potion.
"Ino! This is amazing!"
He was nearly bouncing around the room, overwhelmed with excitement.
"I need to write to my father—no, wait, the equipment! We need to set up the space first! Or maybe—no—I should send the letter first—"
He rambled on, trying to do everything at once and getting nowhere.
"Calm down," Ino said with a small laugh, leaning back into a chair. "I'll take care of finding the location. You just write that letter. Let's aim to publish our first issue as soon as we can. No point waiting until Christmas—people are paying attention now."
He paused, his tone sharpening slightly.
"Especially with everything Professor McGonagall told me. About Barty Crouch Sr.—how obsessed he is with control. The man practically camped outside the hospital wing."
Draco blinked. "You're thinking of writing about him?"
"Why not?" Ino said calmly. "He acts like a champion of justice. Let's give people a chance to see what that really looks like. Double standards and all."
The British magical community wasn't that large. If the students of Hogwarts heard something, the whole country would soon follow.