The Star Hall had never looked more magnificent.
By the ti the sun had dipped behind the mountain peaks and the stars began to shimr faintly across the darkening sky, the entire château had co alive with enchantnt. Candles floated in the air like hovering fireflies, casting soft golden light across the corridors. Students dressed in their finest robes passed one another with excited whispers, their footsteps echoing as they made their way toward the great hall.
Eira, dressed in a deep navy gown with silver accents woven through the fabric like constellations, entered alongside Fleur and Marin. Her hair had been braided loosely, pinned with delicate, shimring beads by Fleur, who had declared her "far too important to look plain on a night like this." Even Eira had to admit the effect was rather striking.
As they stepped into the Star Hall, a collective breath seed to escape from every student at once.
The vaulted ceiling stretched impossibly high above, chard to reflect the night sky in perfect clarity. Stars wheeled overhead in slow motion, glittering with real constellations that shimred and shifted in subtle movent. Moons—yes, two tonight glowed with soft silver light, and a phantom aurora traced its way from one end of the ceiling to the other, flickering with gentle greens and purples.
Floating above the hall were carved pumpkins, each glowing with a different soft hue and flickering like lanterns. A gentle wind stirred through the room, carrying the scent of cinnamon, apples, and sothing faintly smoky like the promise of hearth and comfort.
Long tables were arranged across the polished marble floor, but tonight there was ample space left at the center for sothing else: a dance floor, glimring like stardust under the spellwork laid by the professors earlier that day.
Students whispered excitedly as the last of the attendees filtered in. Then, at the far end of the hall, Mada Maxi rose from her place at the High Table. She was dressed in midnight blue velvet, her robes embroidered with delicate silvery vines that caught the light whenever she moved. Her presence alone quieted the room without a word.
She raised her wand and from its tip, a gentle chi echoed through the air.
"s chers élèves," she began, her voice elegant and warm, "another season of autumn has co to our beloved Beauxbâtons, and with it, the joy of tradition. Halloween reminds us not only of the old magic, but of the community we build through laughter, kindness, and beauty."
There was a soft rustle of nods and murmured agreent.
"This evening, we celebrate not only with food and song, but with the grace of our heritage. And so, as is tradition—let the first dance begin."
She waved her wand once more, and the candles above shifted slightly, casting their light in soft, golden spirals upon the dance floor.
From the side of the room, a group of seventh-years stepped forward in unison boys and girls alike, dressed in the flowing elegance of Beauxbâtons’ finest robes. Their sleeves glittered with embroidery, and their boots clicked smartly against the floor as they took position.
Then ca the music.
It began softly a series of harp strings, weaving in a pattern like falling leaves. Then ca the violin, lilting and wistful. Finally, a gentle thrum of drums beneath it all, steady and graceful.
The dancers moved in formation, their steps impossibly fluid, as though guided by invisible threads of magic. Their wands moved subtly, trailing streaks of light behind them as they twirled. Gold and blue sparks spun from their heels with every step, and when they turned, petals of silver light burst into the air and fluttered down like snowflakes.
Gasps filled the hall. The elegance, the precision it was unmistakably Beauxbâtons. Not just a school of learning, but of artistry.
The final movent ended in a burst of cascading lights as the dancers joined hands and bowed deeply. The students erupted into applause, many of the younger years leaping to their feet in sheer delight.
"That was amazing," Eira whispered to Fleur, her eyes wide with admiration.
"They’ve been rehearsing since September," Fleur replied, smiling. "It’s always the seniors’ honor to open the floor."
"Remind to stay a sixth-year forever. I don’t think I could compete with that."
Fleur laughed. "Oh, I think you could stun everyone without even trying."
Before Eira could respond, the sound of enchanted trumpets filled the room—bright and cheerful. The large double doors at the far end of the hall opened without a single hand laid upon them.
From behind the doors ca the scent first—roast ats seasoned with thy and honey, warm baked breads, pumpkin soup thick with cream, and pastries that sparkled with sugared magic. The platters floated in on their own, carried by unseen magic, gliding above the tables like regal guests of honor before lowering themselves neatly into place.
Eira’s eyes widened as the dishes appeared before her. There was steaming roasted duck with caralized glaze, platters of glazed root vegetables, bread rolls as soft as clouds, and golden plates of herbed rice and cheese. Crystal pitchers filled themselves with fruit cider, enchanted to remain ice-cold but never watered down. Bowls of violet grapes the size of plums sparkled with morning dew, and tiny chocolate tarts winked with edible silver.
A delighted murmur passed through the hall.
And then the feast began.
Laughter rang out as students filled their plates. So stood to swap dishes from other tables, others summoned bread or wine with soft flicks of their wands. The room was alive with chatter, music, and the occasional burst of magical mishap—a loaf of bread that puffed too large, a gravy boat that danced briefly before behaving itself.
Eira sat beside Fleur and Marin, taking a bit of everything onto her plate. The food was divine—each bite warm and rich, comfort wrapped in spellwork and tradition.
Marin, sitting across from them, leaned dramatically toward a table of older girls. "And then I told him," he was saying to one of the Bellefeuille seniors, "if your love potion doesn’t work on pigeons, don’t test it on your classmates."
The girl burst out laughing, nearly choking on a berry tart.
"Marin," Eira said, raising a brow, "are you flirting with the entire seventh year?"
"Only the talented ones," he replied with a wink.
"Save so charm for next year," Fleur teased.
"Oh, don’t worry. I’m rely laying the groundwork."
As the al continued, a student from each House stood to sing—each song a lighthearted ballad or comical tale passed down through generations. Even Mada Maxi chuckled when the Bellefeuille table sang an impromptu rendition of a magical pumpkin romance. Eira found herself clapping and laughing more than she had in weeks, her heart unusually light.
The warmth of the feast, the gentle music, and the presence of friends made the night glow with sothing intangible. No politics. No expectations. Just magic, celebration, and community.
As dessert was served—a shimring pudding topped with enchanted whipped cream that glittered like starlight—Fleur leaned toward Eira and whispered, "Thank you... for coming with today. For letting yourself enjoy it."
Eira looked at her, then smiled. "Thank you. I didn’t realize how much I needed it."
Outside, the stars wheeled above Beauxbâtons. Inside, the hall glowed with enchantnt. And for this one night, the world was as it should be—full of wonder, warmth, and joy.
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