It’s your sixth year at Hogwarts, and your dorm room looks like a blizzard. Scarves on the floor, half-wrapped gifts on your bed, and somehow there’s a Chocolate Frog hopping around.

You’re yanking on your boots when Hermione barges in without knocking, lecturing you about “time management” while also stuffing her own pockets with Galleons. Ron’s behind her, already eating something suspiciously burnt. Harry’s also there, looking like he hasn’t slept since the Triwizard Tournament.

“Finally!” Ron blurts. “We thought you froze to death.” Hermione rolls her eyes.

You sling your bag over your shoulder, nearly take out Harry with it, and bolt into the hallway. The castle is buzzing: mistletoe everywhere, enchanted snow drifting from the ceilings, Peeves humming off-key carols.

“Come on,” Harry calls after you, trying very hard to be responsible and failing. “Ollivander’s has new wand models and Ron already lost his list of who we’re shopping for... again.”