She did not give up.
Later, she found several more similar “tutoring classes” and used the dwindling Galleons she had saved by scrimping and saving to try again and again.
Each attempt was like reaching out to grasp the moon reflected in water.
In the end, all she got was a miserable, drenched mess—and nothing else.
Until now, there were only three lonely silver Sickles left in her coin pouch.
Today was Yona’s eleventh birthday.
Her parents had sent her to Diagon Alley to buy a few things: Yona’s favorite strawberry syrup, the latest issue of the magical comic Mad Muggle Martin, and a small bouquet of silver-blue forget-me-nots.
Yona had said they were the flowers “most fitting for a pure-blood wizard.”
Before Luna left, her mother shoved a cloth bag into her hands, her tone impatient.
“Come back early.
Don’t dawdle on the way.
Nothing can go wrong with Yona’s birthday party.”
Luna nodded, took the bag, and turned to leave the house.
No one remembered that three days ago had been her thirteenth birthday.
That day, she had cleaned as usual.
At night, Laby secretly gave her a small piece of cake, with a candle stuck into it that was already beginning to melt.
“Miss… happy birthday…” Laby said, lowering its head, its large ears drooping.
When Luna blew out the candle, she made a wish.
She wished that she could live like a normal girl.
Even if she could not use magic, she at least wanted a stable life—one where she was remembered by someone.
After buying everything, the cloth bag hung heavily from her wrist.
Inside were Yona’s birthday gifts, as well as Luna’s own heavy, homeless sense of loss.
She walked along the stone road of Diagon Alley, watching the wizards and witches coming and going around her.
They held wands in their hands and wore relaxed smiles on their faces, discussing the latest Quidditch match or their classes at Hogwarts.
None of that liveliness had anything to do with her.
She lowered her head and kicked a small stone by her feet, not knowing where she should go.
Back to that so-called “home”?
Back to continue being the ignored, despised Squib?
Or… just as her parents had said, wait until she turned eighteen and was thrown out to fend for herself in the Muggle world?
It was then that she caught sight of the shop at the end of the alley from the corner of her eye.
Merlin’s Antique Shop.
She had walked past this alley countless times before, yet she had never noticed that such a shop existed here.
It was as if it had suddenly appeared out of nowhere.
The dark brown wooden door, the faded copper sign, and the floor-to-ceiling window that made it impossible to see inside all carried a strange, inexplicable pull.
Even more strangely, her heart suddenly began beating very fast, as if something were crashing around inside her chest.
A vague voice sounded in her mind—gentle, firm, repeating over and over:
“Go inside… go inside, and your wish can come true…”
She stopped in her tracks and hesitated.
Reason told her that this was far too strange.
The lesson from Knockturn Alley was still fresh in her mind.
She should not believe in any more “miracles.”
And yet, deep in her heart, that faint little flame that refused to go out began burning wildly at that very moment.
She had almost nothing left to lose.
Holding on to her last trace of hope, Luna Fawley reached out and pushed open the heavy wooden door.
Jingle—
A clear ringing sounded beside her ear, carrying a strange soothing power.
She raised her head and saw the “shopkeeper” behind the counter.
It was a pure black cloak, wide and heavy, with dark silver patterns embroidered along its edges.
Beneath the cloak was empty space.
There was no face, no hands—only a bottomless darkness, as if it could swallow all light.
Luna’s breath instantly caught in her throat.
She instinctively took a step back and tightened her grip on the hand hidden behind her back.
In that hand, besides the things her mother had asked her to buy, she was clutching a crumpled piece of paper.
It was the flyer for the last “magic tutoring class” she had found.
The writing on it had already blurred, but she had clenched it so tightly that it was wrinkled, its edges worn and frayed.
Just as she was so nervous that she nearly turned around and fled, a voice came from beneath the cloak.
The voice was strange.
It was neither high nor low, impossible to tell whether it belonged to a man or a woman.
It sounded as if countless people were whispering at once, and yet also as if only one person were speaking softly.
There was no malice in that voice.
Instead, it carried a reassuring power, like a hearth fire on a cold night, like a harbor in the middle of a storm.
“Customer, please come in.”
As the voice reached her ears, Luna’s tense body somehow relaxed a little.
“The wind is strong outside.
Come in and warm yourself.”
She looked at the empty cloak, at the bottomless darkness beneath it, and a thought suddenly appeared in her mind.
Perhaps, this time, it really was different.
She took a deep breath, as if using up all the strength in her body, then lifted her foot and walked into the shop step by step.
The door gently closed behind her, shutting out the wind and rain outside, as if also cutting off all the suffering and despair of her first thirteen years.
Luna stood in the middle of the shop, looking at the black cloak.
In her pale gray eyes, a faint light was rekindled for the first time.
Slowly, she raised her hand and opened her tightly clenched palm.
The crumpled flyer looked especially glaring in her pale hand.
“I…” She opened her mouth, her voice dry as sandpaper.
“I want… I want to know if this place… can really grant wishes?”
The cloak did not answer immediately.
The shop was very quiet.
She could only hear her own heartbeat, along with the occasional, muffled sound of rain outside the window.
The antiques on the shelves stood silently, as if listening to the girl’s plea.
After a while, the darkness beneath the cloak seemed to stir slightly.
That androgynous voice sounded again, gentle, yet carrying an undeniable power.
“As long as you are willing to pay the corresponding price, any wish can be granted.”
A price?
Luna’s fingers curled slightly, gripping the flyer tightly.
What price did she have left to pay?
Her status?
She had long since stopped being the young lady of the Fawley family.
Her wealth?
She had only three silver Sickles left.
Her future?
It seemed to have already been decided—gray, bleak, and utterly worthless.
But…
She raised her head and looked into that darkness.
In her pale gray eyes, a glimmer of determination appeared.
Even if there was only a one-in-ten-thousand chance, she wanted to grasp it.
She did not want to be a Squib anymore.
She did not want to be treated like trash anymore.
She wanted to hold a wand.
She wanted to feel magic flowing through her veins.
She wanted to stand openly beneath the sunlight and tell everyone—
Luna Fawley was not dust meant only to be trampled underfoot.
“I am willing,” she heard herself say.
Her voice was not loud, but it was unusually firm.
“No matter what the price is, I am willing.”
The darkness beneath the cloak seemed to pause for a moment.
Then that voice rang out again.
“Very well.”
“Then speak your wish.”
Luna took a deep breath, as if drawing every bit of courage in her chest into herself.
Then, word by word, she said:
“I want to have magic.”
“I want to become a real wizard.”