The car glided into the Livanthos' private drive just as the sky began to bruise pink with dusk. Inside the white-brick townhouse, golden light spilled from tall windows, and the faint hum of a piano drifted from the sitting room.
Talora carried the small, white carrier carefully against her chest as she and Tristan stepped inside. Their shoes clicked softly against the marble entryway before they found their parents in the kitchen — a bright, open space where her father was scrolling through market reports on his tablet and her mother was arranging flowers in a crystal vase.
Her mother looked up immediately. "Talora," she said, smiling faintly. "You didn't mention an extra passenger."
Tristan grinned. "She's a puppy! Her name's Pandora! She sparkles!"
"Sparkles," Mr. Livanthos repeated, lowering his tablet. "That's new."
Talora opened the carrier just enough for the small creature inside to peek out. Pandora blinked up at the adults, her snow-pale fur catching the warm kitchen light, her eyes bright and unafraid.
Mrs. Livanthos walked closer, amusement softening her polished composure. "She's beautiful," she admitted, brushing a gentle hand along the pup's head. "You've had your heart set on one since Christmas."
"I'll take care of her," Talora promised quickly. "Everything. Feeding, walking, everything. She's my responsibility."
Her mother gave her that familiar, indulgent smile. "Alright, darling. But she's your responsibility, not the housekeeper's. And she's not sleeping on the couch."
"She'll be sleeping with me," Talora said, matter-of-fact.
Her father chuckled. "That's settled, then."
Upstairs, Talora's bedroom was all soft light and calm lines — cream walls, brushed oak, and shelves lined with neatly organized books and pressed flowers under glass. It smelled faintly of jasmine and warm linen.
She set the carrier down and unlatched it. Pandora stepped out, tiny paws silent against the floor. The pup sniffed the air, tail twitching, then padded toward the balcony doors where the evening air drifted in, rich with the scent of the small rooftop garden.
"Welcome home," Talora said softly, crouching beside her. "That's my garden. I want to grow magical plants, but my mom won't let me. You need a nickname, lets go with Pando, okay?"
Pando lifted her face to the wind, eyes half-closed as if memorizing it.
Talora smiled and reached for one of the bags they'd brought from Griffens Way. Inside were carefully wrapped items: a cream leather dog bed lined with enchanted cooling silk, a set of carved wooden bowls from a magical crafts shop, and a small collection of pastel-toned toys shaped like miniature clouds.
She placed the bowls near the balcony door, filled one with water, and set the toys on the rug. Pando trotted over, sniffed each one, then picked up a star-shaped plush and trotted back to Talora's feet, tail wagging.
"Good taste," Talora murmured. "You already know what you like."
By the time the pup curled up on the edge of her bed, Talora had set out the last few things she'd bought that day — a stack of magical skincare jars that shimmered faintly in the lamplight, and a slim bag from the cosmetic boutique filled with eyeshadows in soft bronze and rose-gold, a red lip gloss charm-sealed to never smudge, and the elegant brush set.
When she finally sat down on her bed, Pando looked up, yawned, and rested her chin on Talora's knee.
Talora smiled, running a hand through the pup's glowing fur. "You fit right in," she whispered. "Like you were waiting for me."
By the time Shya and Arya got home, the Gill townhouse was alive with warm light and the low murmur of conversation. The scent of roasted garlic and saffron filled the air, and soft jazz played faintly from the living room speakers.
They stepped inside through the grand glass doors and followed the sound of voices into the kitchen, where Mr. and Mrs. Gill were seated at the marble island, half-finished glasses of red wine between them.
Mrs. Gill looked up first, her brows lifting. "Please tell me that's not what I think it is."
"It depends," Shya said innocently. "What do you think it is?"
Arya grinned. "It's a puppy! Her name's Haneera!"
Her father leaned forward, interest piqued. "Haneera?"
Shya smiled. "She's magical."
At that, her mother set her glass down. "Of course she is," she said wryly. "You always bring home something that glows, flies, or breaks physics."
Shya opened the carrier, and out padded a small, black-furred pup with amber eyes that seemed to burn faintly gold. Her coat shimmered like oil in the light — black with threads of deep blue just visible when she moved.
For a moment, the kitchen went quiet.
"Well," Mr. Gill said at last. "She's magnificent."
Mrs. Gill sighed, though the corners of her mouth betrayed a smile. "She's also ours now, isn't she?"
"Technically mine," Shya said, smiling wide. "But yes."
"Fine," her mother said, already resigned. "But she's your responsibility. And if she chews the upholstery, she's your problem."
Shya bent to scoop up the puppy, who promptly nestled into her arms as if she'd always belonged there. "She won't. She's perfect."
Her father chuckled. "That's what you said about the sculpture that cracked the window."
"This one doesn't throw things," Shya said confidently, carrying Haneera upstairs. "Come on, Arya — let's show her the house."
Her room was a work of art in itself — sleek and modern with dark oak floors, walls painted a deep, stormy blue, and one entire side converted into a half-studio, half-sanctuary. Large canvases leaned against the walls, their surfaces glinting faintly under the soft golden lights. Sculptures and paintings by local and Indian artists adorned the space — a blend of modern design and deep cultural roots.
"Welcome home," Shya murmured as she set Haneera down. The pup trotted forward, nose twitching, exploring the organized chaos — the easel, the brush jars, the open sketchbooks, the couch draped in a throw dyed deep indigo.
From one of the Griffen Way bags, Shya pulled out a sleek black dog bed lined with starlight-blue velvet, a small set of enchanted silver bowls, and a pile of soft toys shaped like miniature stars.
She placed them neatly in the corner near her desk. "This is your corner. You'll like it. It smells like paint and freedom."
Haneera padded over, sniffed the bed, then flopped down with a pleased little sigh.
Arya, hovering at the door, grinned. "She's already as dramatic as you."
"She has taste," Shya said, stretching out beside her pup on the rug.
Later, she unpacked the rest — a silver bag of magical skincare that shimmered faintly, bottles that cooled or warmed to the skin's needs, a few experimental eyeshadows that glowed like nebulae, and the matte rose-brown gloss that caught the light without a trace of stickiness.
She lined them up neatly along her vanity — and smiled at how right it all felt. New beginnings. New magic.
By the time she slipped into bed, Haneera had climbed up beside her, curling into the crook of her knees. The room, once her quiet chaos, now felt alive with something steady and warm.
Across London, the lights in both girls' windows glowed faintly — one soft gold, one deep blue.
In Belgravia, Haneera's faint, blue shimmer reflected off Shya's art, like starlight caught in motion.
In Mayfair, Pando's fur gleamed softly under Talora's bedside lamp, her tail curled neatly against her paws.
Both girls fell asleep with their new companions close, unaware that, somewhere between their homes, a faint thread of old magic — silver and dark — stirred quietly, binding two hearts, two pups, and two destinies that would one day reshape everything.
The London sun had barely shaken off its haze when the Gill townhouse began to stir.
Shya stood in front of her mirror, fastening the last gold hoop earring and tucking a few stray waves of black hair behind one ear.
The air smelled faintly of jasmine and sandalwood — her mother's perfume lingering from downstairs — and somewhere in the background, Arya was dramatically whispering to Haneera.
"You have to promise to behave," he said solemnly to the little black puppy, who responded by biting the hem of his T-shirt.
"She'll be fine," Shya said, slipping into her light gold bomber jacket over a cropped white tee and dark jeans. The metallic glint in her accessories caught the morning light — layered chains, delicate rings, all warmth and confidence. "She's the best-behaved girl I know. Besides me."
Arya snorted. "Sure."
Haneera was already prancing in circles, her sleek black fur catching blue light in the window glow. Shya laughed, scooped her up, and set her gently into the black Occamy Birkin — the padded enchanted base expanding into a cozy little pocket. The pup's nose popped out of the charmed opening, tail wagging furiously.
Arya, slinging his small backpack over his shoulder, said, "Do you think Pandora will be there too?"
"Of course," Shya said, grabbing her sunglasses. "It's a playdate, Bob-style."
Across town, the Livanthos townhouse was equally awake.
Talora adjusted the strap on her cream cardigan, the fine gold threads catching in the light. Her pale golden-brown hair was twisted up in a loose braid, and she'd chosen white shorts, a collared top, and delicate gold hoops — classic, sporty, effortless.
Pando sat at her feet, tail sweeping the polished floor as Tristan tried to zip up his jacket one-handed while juggling a leash.
"Ready?" Talora asked, checking her reflection once more.
"Almost," Tristan said, finally managing the zip. "I don't think Pando needs a leash though."
"She's too polite not to wear one," Talora replied, crouching to lift the little white pup. Pando wriggled happily, curling into her arms like a tiny cloud.
Talora placed her gently into the green Occamy Birkin, the lining charmed to stay cool in the sun. The gold detailing caught the morning light as if the bag itself approved.
"Alright, you two," Mrs. Livanthos said from the kitchen doorway, smiling as they passed. "Try not to buy another menagerie."
"No promises," Talora said cheerfully, leaning in to kiss her cheek.
The two families met outside Victoria Station, sunlight glinting off polished glass and marble. The siblings spotted each other first — Arya and Tristan breaking into a half-run while the girls followed, each carrying their enchanted Birkins like accessories straight from a runway.
"Morning, Bob!" Talora called.
"Morning, Bob!" Shya echoed, laughing as the puppies peeked out in unison. The contrast was perfect: Haneera sleek and shadow-dark, Pando soft and radiant, both blinking curiously in the London glare.
Cassian and Roman were already waiting by the edge of the plaza, dressed down but somehow still put together: Cassian in a black button-down rolled to the elbows, Roman in an olive jacket and jeans.
"Thought we'd never see you two outside Mayfair again," Roman teased.
"Please," Shya said, waving her hand. "The city missed me."
Cassian's eyes flicked toward the pups. "Good morning haneera and pandora, you little menaces."
"Be polite, I'm calling her Pando for short" Talora said, mock-stern. "They're perfect angels."
Cassian led the way down a narrow side street that shimmered faintly when they turned the corner — the kind of place most Londoners walked past without noticing. Between two brick buildings stood a wrought-iron gate draped in ivy, its sign glinting softly.
BARK & BROOM: A Park for Magical Companions
As they stepped through, the world changed.
Grass stretched out in every direction, impossibly green, dotted with shimmering ponds. The air carried a soft hum of enchantment, like the afterglow of a spell. Around them, magical dogs of every shape and size raced across the field — Crups chasing enchanted tennis balls that multiplied midair, Winged Terriers darting through floating rings of light, and a pair of Kneazles dozing in the shade like royalty.
Arya's jaw dropped. "This is amazing!"
Tristan nearly fell over a floating disc. "Can we let them out?"
Shya smiled. "I think we'd be monsters if we didn't."
She unfastened Haneera's charm harness, setting her gently onto the grass. Talora did the same with Pando. The two pups paused for half a second — and then burst forward, chasing each other in dizzying circles through the sunlight. Haneera's fur shimmered dark blue when she moved; Pando's left soft trails of silvery light.
"They're glowing," Arya whispered in awe.
"They're showing off," Shya corrected.
Cassian watched, faint smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "You realize you've managed to find dogs that are almost as dramatic as you."
"Thank you," Shya said sweetly. "It's a gift."
After the pups had thoroughly exhausted themselves, Roman waved them toward a cobblestone path leading to a low, sun-dappled building with a glimmering sign.
CAFÉ LUNARIA – Enchanted Refreshments for Witches, Wizards, and Their Creatures
Inside, the air smelled of caramel, honey, and fresh mint. Golden fairy lights hung in lazy spirals overhead. A waitress with glittering eyeliner led them to a table near the window — half cushioned benches, half plush armchairs — and offered a small menu that shimmered when opened.
"Alright," Talora said, scanning it. "For the dogs, we have something called 'Floo Treats.' Or—oh—'Moon Cream Cups.'"
Shya grinned. "One of each. They deserve it."
"For us," Cassian said, leaning back, "I recommend the Phoenix Lattes. They have a kick."
Roman smirked. "Or the Amortentia Mocktails — every drink smells like your favorite thing."
"Mine probably smells like paint and rebellion," Shya said dryly.
"Yours smells like detention," Cassian countered.
Talora rolled her eyes fondly. "You two are exhausting."
As the drinks arrived — steaming cups that shimmered faintly gold, the dogs happily lapping enchanted ice cream that sparkled like moonlight — conversation turned easy. Arya and Tristan traded facts about magical creatures. Roman described his mother's ill-fated attempt at "pet etiquette charms." Cassian quietly fed Haneera bits of a biscuit while pretending not to be doing so.
For a while, the world was just laughter and warmth — four friends, two brothers, two puppies, and the hush of sunlight through enchanted glass.
When they finally left Café Lunaria, the afternoon sun had turned golden. Haneera and Pando, happily tired, were nestled back into their Birkins, blinking sleepily.
"So," Roman said, stretching, "same time next week?"
"Absolutely," Talora said immediately.
"Next week we show you the Nimbus Gardens," Cassian added. "Magical botanical park. Better snacks."
Shya smiled, pushing her sunglasses onto her head. "Done. But next time, I pick dessert."
They all laughed as they walked toward the station — the pups occasionally peeking out to watch the passing Muggles, none of whom noticed the faint shimmer that followed the group wherever they went.
To anyone else, it was just sunlight.
But to them, it felt like something more — the beginning of a summer that would never quite fade.
The walk back through Griffen Way felt slower, softer.
Shadows lengthened across the cobblestones, the air full of that late-summer hum — laughter spilling from café doors, the faint shimmer of magic woven through the glow of the lanterns that floated above the street.
Pandora was tucked neatly into Talora's bag, her snowy head resting on the rim, eyes half-closed in drowsy contentment.
Beside her, Haneera was just as cozy in Shya's black Birkin, tail twitching with quiet satisfaction as she watched the world drift past.
"I think they liked it," Roman said, hands in his pockets, walking just behind them.
"They thrived," Shya corrected, her gold bracelets catching the light as she adjusted her bag. "I've never seen Haneera sit still that long for anyone but me."
"Selective taste," Cassian said with a faint smirk.
"Obviously," Shya replied. "We share that trait."
Talora laughed softly. "Pandora fell asleep halfway through her ice cream. The woman at the next table nearly died of cuteness."
"She's an angel," Roman said, stretching. "Unlike somebody's little shadow demon."
"Excuse me?" Shya turned, mock-offended. "She's pure charm."
Cassian arched a brow. "She growled at a Crup for walking too close."
"She was protecting her snack," Shya said simply, earning another round of laughter.
By the time they reached the edge of the magical district, the last of the sunset had burned out.
The boundary shimmered faintly where Griffen Way met the Muggle world again — a subtle ripple in the air, like heat above a road.
The group slowed, as if reluctant to step through.
"This was… perfect," Talora said finally, her voice soft but certain.
"It was," Shya agreed. "No chaos, no catastrophes. Just fun."
Roman mock-gasped. "You mean we're capable of that?"
"Barely," Cassian said dryly, but there was warmth beneath his tone.
Arya tugged on Shya's sleeve. "Can we come again? Maybe next week?"
Tristan chimed in, "Yeah! I want to see those winged dogs again. And the ones that glowed pink!"
"Definitely," Talora said, reaching over to ruffle his hair. "You're coming with."
Cassian and Roman exchanged a glance that was equal parts amused and resigned. "We'll get the tickets," Roman said. "You two just bring the chaos."
"Oh, that's Shya's department," Talora said, smiling. "Mine's snacks and supervision."
They reached Victoria Station, where the Underground and the private town cars intersected like veins in the city's heart. The air buzzed with motion — people rushing, lights flickering, the distant echo of an arriving train.
Roman slung an arm briefly around Tristan's shoulders. "You did well today, little man. You didn't even try to ride a broom indoors."
Tristan grinned proudly. "Maybe next time."
Arya was animatedly recounting the café's glowing dog treats to Cassian, who listened with the patience of someone quietly charmed despite himself.
Talora shifted Pandora slightly, the pup stirring in her bag. "She's probably going to sleep for twelve hours straight."
"Same," Shya said, suppressing a yawn. "Except I'll wake up covered in paint."
Cassian's lips twitched. "Occupational hazard."
Roman gave a short, lazy salute. "See you both soon, yeah?"
"Yeah," Talora said, smiling. "Next week."
"Promise," Shya added. "We'll plan it."
The boys vanished into the crowd, their laughter fading into the hum of the city.
By the time the Gills' car pulled up outside their townhouse, Belgravia was awash in warm lamplight. The scent of garden roses mingled with the faint metallic tang of rain on stone.
Inside, Shya set her bag on the kitchen island and lifted Haneera out. The puppy blinked sleepily, then stretched, front paws splayed dramatically.
"Someone's spoiled," Mr. Gill observed from his armchair, glancing over his newspaper.
"She's perfect," Shya said, kissing Haneera's head.
Arya was already digging through the treat bag from Café Lunaria. "Mum, look! They made enchanted cookies for dogs. They shimmer when you break them!"
Mrs. Gill, smiling despite herself, said, "Just don't eat them yourself."
"I make no promises," Arya replied.
Upstairs, Shya set Haneera down on her bed. The room glowed softly — one half still an artist's haven, the other newly transformed with the pup's things.
Haneera immediately trotted to the corner, nudged her velvet bed into a better position, then flopped down with a sigh that could only mean contentment.
Shya sat cross-legged beside her, sketchbook open, trying to capture the curve of the pup's ears, the soft light gleaming off her fur. She didn't notice the faint shimmer of blue trailing from her pencil — a flicker of unintentional magic dancing across the page.
At the same time, the Livanthos townhouse was bathed in a calm golden hush. Pandora blinked sleepily from her carrier as Talora carried her up to her room, Tristan already halfway through describing their day to their mother.
"They had floating balls, Mum. Floating. And a dog that breathed sparkles."
"That sounds very safe," Mrs. Livanthos said mildly, though her eyes twinkled.
"Surprisingly, it was," Talora said, smiling as she set Pandora on her bed. The pup stretched, then turned a few careful circles before curling up right on Talora's pillow.
"She's already taking your spot," Mrs. Livanthos said, leaning on the doorframe.
"I don't mind," Talora said softly. "She earned it."
Talora whispered, scratching behind her ears. "You're perfect."
The pup yawned, nose burrowing into the duvet, and Talora couldn't help but laugh quietly.
Later that night, both girls sat in their respective beds — one bathed in blue light, the other in gold — phones glowing softly in the dark.
Shya: Still can't believe how good today was.
Talora: I know. They actually behaved. Us too.
Shya: Don't jinx it, Bob.
Talora: Pando's asleep on my pillow.
Shya: Haneera's snoring under my sketchbook. She's my muse now.
Talora: Muse or menace?
Shya: Same thing.
Talora: Next week: you plan.
Shya: You'll regret saying that.
Talora: Already do.
The screen dimmed; the laughter lingered.
In two different homes, two girls drifted off to sleep — one under soft golden light, the other beneath the quiet pulse of indigo — each with a small heartbeat curled against her side.
And outside, unseen by them, a faint shimmer ran along the city's ley lines — threads of ancient, sleeping magic stirring, recognizing that two of its long-silent daughters had begun to wake.