Astoria Greengrass and Gabrielle Delacour had not planned to stumble upon Luna Lovegood's garden. They had been walking along the edges of a forgotten forest, the sort of place that seemed to breathe magic, when they came upon the gate—old, wooden, and weathered with vines spiraling through its slats.

"This feels... odd," Astoria murmured, her voice soft and lilting. Her fingers brushed the gate, and a faint shimmer danced beneath her touch, as though it recognized her curiosity.

Gabrielle, who had been trailing slightly behind, tilted her head, her silver hair catching the diffuse sunlight filtering through the canopy. "Odd, but welcoming," she said, her voice thick with her Veela accent. "There is something alive here. Kind, but... strange."

They pushed the gate open, and the world on the other side seemed to exhale. A flood of vibrant colors and textures greeted them: trees with luminous leaves that glowed faintly in purples and golds, flowers that opened and closed in response to the gentle rhythm of their footsteps, and vines that swayed as though caught in an unseen breeze.

Astoria knelt beside a cluster of fruit hanging from a low-hanging branch. The fruits were round and shimmering, each shifting through a kaleidoscope of colors. "Chameleafruit," she said, her tone curious. "They change flavors as you eat them. I've only read about these in obscure herbology texts."

Gabrielle's gaze lingered on a patch of silvery plants shaped like delicate feathers, their tips glowing faintly. "These are dreamfrost ferns," she said, her fingers hovering over one. "They calm the mind, yes? I felt their presence before I even stepped inside."

The sound of footsteps startled them, and they turned to see Luna Lovegood emerging from behind a flowering hedge, a basket on her arm overflowing with glowing mushrooms, sprigs of herbs, and what looked suspiciously like rolled leaves. She smiled at them, her wide eyes filled with both wonder and amusement.

"Hello," she said simply, as though she'd been expecting them.

"We didn't mean to intrude," Gabrielle began, but Luna waved a hand.

"You're not intruding. The garden is as much yours as it is mine. It likes to share, you see." She knelt beside a bed of delicate blue flowers that seemed to hum softly. "These are skybell blooms. They sing at dawn, but only if they've had enough moonlight the night before. Isn't that charming?"

Astoria and Gabrielle exchanged a glance, intrigued but unsure how to respond.

Luna plucked a flower and handed it to Gabrielle. "You have a touch for magic that listens. The garden felt it when you arrived. This one likes you."

Gabrielle held the flower gently, feeling the faint pulse of life in its petals. "It's beautiful," she murmured.

Luna wandered to a tree bearing small, glowing fruits and plucked one. "Starry figs," she explained, tossing it lightly to Astoria, who caught it with a faint smile. "They're better at night, but they're still quite nice now. They remind me of how we're all connected—like constellations in a great big sky, no matter how far apart we might seem."

As they wandered deeper into the garden, Luna spoke in her dreamy, meandering way, pointing out plants that seemed too whimsical to exist—vines that produced edible pearls, bushes that grew chocolate-dipped berries, and a patch of luminescent grass that emitted a soft, golden light.

Astoria couldn't help but ask, "How did you create all this?"

Luna tilted her head as though the answer was obvious. "Oh, I didn't create it. The garden and I, we grew together. Magic has its own way of finding what it needs, and if you listen closely, it will tell you what to plant and where to place it."

Gabrielle, who had been silent, finally spoke. "It's more than a garden. It's alive. It feels... ancient."

Luna smiled, her gaze distant. "Everything is ancient, if you think about it. Even you, even me. The garden just remembers better than most of us."

They spent hours exploring, tasting, and marveling at Luna's creations, the blend of whimsy and practicality weaving its own quiet spell over them. As the sun dipped below the horizon, Luna handed each of them a small, rolled bundle of leaves.

"It's cannabis magicka," she said with a wink. "Not quite like the Muggle variety. It helps you hear what you might've missed before. A gift from the garden, for when you need it."

Gabrielle and Astoria left the garden feeling lighter, as though they'd stepped briefly into a different world—a place where magic grew wild and free, nurtured by a girl who saw the world just a little differently.

And as they disappeared through the gate, Luna sat by the glow of the starry fig tree, humming to herself, content in her little patch of magic.