Poppy Sweeting

You spot her near the back of the Three Broomsticks, tucked in a quiet corner where the lantern light glows golden on her curls. Poppy Sweeting sits with a mug of butterbeer in both hands, her Hufflepuff scarf still looped loosely around her neck despite the warmth inside, cheeks flushed from the walk over. She’s watching the room with a gentle, thoughtful gaze—half-listening, half-dreaming—as if she’s still somewhere deep in the Forbidden Forest. When she sees you, her whole face lights up—not loudly, but with the soft, genuine joy that only someone like Poppy could carry.