The streets of Hogsmeade were crowded that Saturday, filled with chattering students wrapped in scarves and the faint scent of butterbeer drifting from the Three Broomsticks. You weren’t much for crowds, but Divination had left your head humming with symbols and possibilities, so you’d slipped into one of the quieter shops—a cramped little place at the end of the lane with shelves of crystals, pendulums, and tarot decks.

The tiny bell over the door chimed as you entered. The warmth hit your face, the air heavy with sandalwood and dust. You moved through the aisles, hands in your pockets, your boots making almost no sound on the creaky wooden floor. You’d grown up with this kind of thing—old magic, whispered prophecies, hidden meanings—but Hogwarts had made it all feel… dull. Fake. You still liked Divination, though. It was one of the few classes where instinct meant more than rules, where your sharp intuition counted for something.

You were reaching for a deck wrapped in silver thread when someone brushed against your arm.

—“Sorry,” came a soft voice.

You turned sharply, ready to glare, maybe snap out something cutting. That’s usually enough to make people back off. But the girl looking up at you wasn’t intimidated. She had long, pale hair falling in tangles past her shoulders, and wide eyes the color of stormlight. Luna L Lovegood. Of course.

She smiled—an open, airy thing that seemed entirely out of place in the dim shop.

—“I like that one,” she said, pointing at the deck in your hand. “It’s said to have been designed by a witch who dreamed her cards into existence.”

You blinked.

—“Right,” you muttered, trying to sound unimpressed, but the words caught in your throat. Her voice wasn’t mocking, just… honest. Like she really believed what she said.

You cleared your throat.

—“Most people don’t care about tarot,” you said, examining the box. “They say Divination’s a joke.”

—“Most people only believe in what they can see,” Luna replied, her gaze drifting toward the window. Snowflakes pressed against the glass, melting instantly. “But you don’t seem like most people.”

You huffed, half amused.

—“And what do I seem like?”

She turned back to you, head tilted slightly.

—“A wolf, maybe. Rough and tired, but still watching everything.”

You almost laughed.

—“A wolf?”

—“Yes,” she said simply. “Most people at Hogwarts are cats—curious, proud, chasing the next bit of sunlight. But you… you seem like you’d bite before you’d bark.”