Golden fairy lights drifted lazily above the crowd, casting warm glows over the dozens of stalls that lined the marble floors. Banners in every Hogwarts house color hung from the enchanted ceiling, which mirrored a perfect, star-filled sky.

But one booth stood apart.

It was draped in deep velvet curtains, sealing it off from prying eyes. A small, elegant sign hung beside the entrance, listing prices in neat, looping script. A line of witches and wizards snaked from its entrance all the way past the refreshment tables, some holding Galleons, others clutching their chests in barely contained excitement.

At the front of the line, Pansy Parkinson stood with her clipboard, tapping her quill against it impatiently.

The volunteer had chosen their limits. The menu was clear. The crowd was eager.

All that remained was the first interaction.