Christmas Gift

As they strolled along the bustling street, Vizet noticed Luna's gaze lingering on a particular storefront.

"Let's go in and have a look," he said, following her line of sight. "We just need to find a clothing store."

The shop stood apart from the others. There were no twinkling lights in the window, no colorful ribbons adorning the glass. Instead, a large elk head wreath hung above the entrance. The enchanted elk snorted at passersby, but the Muggles around them remained oblivious — proof that this was a wizarding establishment.

This was Mrs. Felton's Clothing Store, a well-known boutique catering to witches and wizards.

As they stepped inside, a warm glow from floating lanterns bathed the rows of neatly folded robes and finely tailored garments. Behind the counter stood an elderly witch in a pointed hat, her eyes twinkling as she took them in.

"What a rare delight," she said, her voice as soft as spun wool. "Children, are you here for new clothes?"

"Yes, Mrs. Felton," Vizet replied with a nod. He turned to Luna and lowered his voice. "Go on — try something. I'll be right here."

Luna gave a small hum of agreement and flitted between the racks like a butterfly, her fingers brushing against soft velvet and shimmering fabrics.

The old witch followed at a leisurely pace, explaining the details of each piece — the materials, the enchantments, the craftsmanship — with the same enthusiasm Ollivander had when speaking of wands.

By the time they left, the sky had darkened, and the shopping district had transformed into a scene of festive splendor.

The storefronts shimmered with golden and silver fairy lights. Christmas trees stood under eaves, their branches draped with tinsel and glowing baubles. The streets glowed with the reflections of countless lights, turning the city into a wonderland of color.

Luna had changed into a deep blue velvet robe embroidered with delicate snowflake patterns. Small feathers and silver bells hung from the hem, chiming softly with her every step.

Despite carrying several bags, she moved as lightly as ever, skipping through pools of light cast by the shop displays. To Vizet, she looked like an ethereal creature — an elf who had wandered down from the clouds, momentarily lost in the human world.

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The night before Christmas, as snow finally began to fall in soft, drifting flurries, Vizet and his family gathered for dinner.

Although only a thin layer of snow covered the ground, Luna was delighted.

With shovels in hand, she and Vizet collected snow from around the garden and shaped three owl-shaped snowmen. Their small, lumpy forms stood proudly under the moonlight, glistening with frost.

Meanwhile, Xenophilius Lovegood had retreated to his study, deeply engrossed in his "secret project." He was determined to finish the first edition of his new storybook before the midnight bells rang.

After their playful work in the snow, Luna and Vizet returned to the warmth of the living room.

Luna yawned behind her hand, covering her mouth as discreetly as she could.

Vizet noticed. "You should go to bed," he said softly. "It's late."

But Luna shook her head, determination flickering in her dreamy gaze. "I'm not sleepy at all," she insisted.

She curled up on the sofa with a copy of The Quibbler, flipping through the pages at a leisurely pace.

Vizet didn't press the matter. Instead, he settled down beside her, pulling out his wandlore notebook and flipping it open.

The living room soon fell into a comfortable silence, broken only by the soft rustling of pages and the occasional stifled yawn from Luna.

Time passed unnoticed. Then, Vizet felt a familiar weight on his arm.

Luna had dozed off.

Her head rested against him, her breathing deep and even. The book she had been reading had slipped to her lap, its pages slightly crumpled beneath her fingers.

Vizet smiled. A moment ago, she had been adamant about staying awake, yet now she was nestled against him, completely lost in dreamland.

Carefully, he pulled out his wand, pointed it at the pillow in her lap, and whispered:

"Mutare Facilis."

The pillow stretched and shifted, transforming into a warm orange blanket that draped gently over her shoulders.

At that moment, something clicked in Vizet's mind.

The incantation had been spoken so softly, almost instinctively — closer to silent casting than he had ever achieved before.

He blinked, pleased by the realization, but his expression softened when he looked back at Luna.

She remained curled up, breathing evenly, unaware of the small accomplishment he had just made.

Still holding The Quibbler in her arms, she looked peaceful — like a cat nestled into the warmth of home.

Vizet closed his notebook. He let his eyes drift shut, sinking into quiet rest.

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Gu Gu! Gu Gu!

The chime of the clock echoed through the house, marking the arrival of midnight.

Vizet's eyes fluttered open, and he found himself meeting Luna's gaze.

For a brief moment, they simply looked at each other — then, as if struck by sudden realization, Luna jolted upright like a startled hare. Without even rubbing the sleep from her eyes, she turned and dashed towards her room.

Vizet stretched his stiff neck and rolled his sore shoulders. A strange feeling of emptiness settled in his chest, though he wasn't sure why.

Shaking off the thought, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a small gift box.

It was Luna's Christmas present.

Before he could call her back, she had already returned — carrying a gift box of her own, carefully wrapped with flowers from the garden.

She handed it to him with a small, expectant smile.

Inside was a delicate glass bottle, filled with a golden liquid that shimmered faintly under the candlelight. At the heart of the potion floated a Dirigible Plum, crystallized into a radiant orange-red gem.

"This is a potion my mother taught me to make," Luna said softly, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "You collect the first drop of dew each morning, and on important days, you give it as a gift. It brings good luck."

Vizet cradled the warm glass bottle in his palm. The heat it exuded reminded him of a perfectly soft-boiled egg on a chilly morning — comforting, familiar, and filled with quiet care.

So that's why Luna wakes up early every morning…

A warm current seemed to flow through his heart.

Through this single bottle, he could almost see her — rising at dawn, carefully gathering the dewdrops, storing them away with quiet patience.

His grip on the bottle tightened slightly as he remembered the various early morning interaction he had with her.

"When you go out in the morning, wear an extra coat. You'll catch a cold otherwise."

"Yes!"

Luna's cheeks flushed crimson, and before he could say anything more, she hurriedly pushed open the window, letting the cold night air rush in.

Outside, the snow-covered world was bathed in soft moonlight. With the clouds cleared, the stars glistened against the dark sky, while the pale glow of the moon cast a pearlescent mist over the landscape.

Vizet stepped up beside her, holding out his own gift. His voice was low but warm.

"Merry Christmas."

Luna turned to him, her eyes bright.

"Merry Christmas!" she responded, her voice lighter than usual, carrying a quiet joy.

She opened the box.

Inside lay a bracelet, its main body woven from unicorn tail hair, shimmering with a silver hue as soft as dawn's first light.

Tiny feathers and flowers adorned the braid — vivid diricawl plumes and fragrant sprigs of lavender. But the centerpiece was a round crystal bead, inside which rested an intricately detailed daisy-shaped iron plate.

Vizet carefully fastened the bracelet around her wrist, then pointed at the crystal bead.

"If you're ever in danger…" He hesitated, then cleared his throat and corrected himself. "Just hold onto it and rub the crystal back and forth three times. It'll protect you."

The daisy inside wasn't just for decoration.

Ollivander had gifted him the iron plate, an enchanted artifact with defensive properties. Vizet had spent hours modifying it, using insights from Dumbledore and Grindelwald's notebooks, refining its magic until it could be concealed within the delicate charm.

Luna's fingers brushed against the bead as she studied it.

"Okay," she whispered.

She lifted her wrist towards the window, tilting it this way and that, letting the crystal catch the moonlight.

Then, her face lit up.

"Vizet, look!" she said, eyes gleaming with delight. "This incomplete moon — you've completed it!"

Intrigued, Vizet bent down slightly, following her gaze.

Through Luna's eyes, the reflection of the crystal bead and the real moon in the sky aligned perfectly, forming a single, whole circle.

For a moment, they simply stood there, wrapped in the silent beauty of the night.

"Luna? Where are you?"

Xenophilius's voice rang out from upstairs.