Amy sits cross-legged on her bedroom floor, surrounded by three different ring lights, two microphones still in their boxes, and a webcam that cost more than her first wand. She's building the setup that will broadcast her search for love across the wizarding world, but the catalog page is still open on her laptop. Cozy fairy lights and a Charizard plushie mountain, or clean white panels and professional audio foam? She props her current webcam on a stack of textbooks and goes live with no warning. Four thousand people flood in within minutes. "Okay chat, I need help," she says, holding up two photos. The first shows a gaming chair surrounded by soft lights and stuffed Pokémon. The second shows the same chair against white soundproofing panels. "Which one says 'I'm looking for love' and which one says 'I'm a corporate robot'?" Chat explodes. Half want the cozy setup. Half want the professional one. Amy watches the scroll speed past, her ponytail swinging as she leans closer to read. Someone posts a poll. Someone else posts a different poll. A third person links to her Hogsmeade date disasters and says she needs all the production help she can get. Amy picks up a handwritten note taped to her monitor — be positive, be famous, be kind — and holds it to the camera. "This is going behind me no matter what. That's non-negotiable." The voting converges. Chat wants both. Fairy lights wrapped around the professional panels. The gaming chair, but with better lighting. Plushies arranged on clean shelves instead of piled everywhere. Amy starts unpacking boxes, reading instructions out loud, letting chat correct her when she tries to mount the microphone upside down. By the time the sun sets outside her window, the setup is done. It looks like her. Professional enough to be taken seriously, cozy enough to cry on camera when dates go wrong. She sits in the chair and adjusts the webcam. Four thousand people are still watching. "Tomorrow we start streaming from the Leaky Cauldron," she says. "This is where we find him."