Hidden behind rows of weeping willows and veils of flowering vines, the secluded garden at the edge of Beauxbâtons’ estate sat in warm silence, untouched and forgotten by most students. The late morning sun cast speckles of gold on the weathered statues and soft moss-covered stone.
Eira stepped into the clearing, the gentle breeze brushing against her snow-white hair, making it shimr faintly in the light. Her robes fluttered at the edges, and her green eyes clear and sharp like a sumr forest scanned the quiet and open space.
This was perfect spot for her to test her new spells.
The two new spells she’d received during the yearly sign-in gift.
She twirled her wand once in her fingers, light gleaming off the polished wood.
She already knew which spell she wanted to try first. It was a notoriously difficult and widely respected spell in the wizarding world—often seen as proof that a witch or wizard was not aligned with dark magic. In fact, if soone were ever accused of being a dark wizard, successfully casting this spell could clear their na. Dark wizards, after repeated use of forbidden magic, often lost the capacity for empathy and emotion—both of which were essential to perform the spell. If a dark wizard ever attempted it, the magic would backfire horribly, covering their body in maggots that would devour them alive.
With a slow, steady breath, she raised her wand, focusing her intent. It was about fighting off darkness in her mind. And rembering the most happiest monts of her mind.
Today was about seeing what light looked like in her hands.
She closed her eyes, reaching deep into her heart for the happiest mories she could find. The first that ca to her was Lolly small, kind, and always eager to please. The mory ached with loss, but she focused on the warmth: how Lolly’s entire face would light up with joy whenever Eira gave her a simple complint or softly said thank you. That unfiltered happiness, so pure and sincere, had stayed with her. Then ca thoughts of Fleur—their quiet conversations, shared glances, and the steady comfort of friendship that had slowly grown into special bond. Eira held onto those monts, choosing to rember the rare pieces of happiness and pushing aside the heavier mories that threatened to surface. Just for this spell just for this mont she needed only the light.
Her voice was calm and confident.
"Expecto Patronum."
The words left her lips smoothly, like she had said them a hundred tis.
From the tip of her wand, a silver light burst forward, bright but soft, swirling and forming mid-air. In monts, it began to take shape—feathers forming from mist, wings stretching, talons extending.
An owl erged—sleek and silent, wings wide and regal. It soared upward in a sweeping arc, circling above her once like a guardian before gently descending and landing just in front of her.
Its glowing eyes blinked once as it stared up at her. Then it tilted its head, as if to say, Well? What now?
Eira smirked. "You’re beautiful just like my Animagus form."
The owl gave a small flap of its luminous wings and puffed up slightly, pleased with itself.
She didn’t need to say more.
With a simple gesture, she let the owl fade into silver mist. The light drifted upward and disappeared like it had never been there—except it had. And she felt it. Clear. Solid. Satisfying.
She turned toward the far end of the garden now, where a half-crumbled statue leaned against a rose-draped wall.
Ti for the second one.
This spell wasn’t delicate. It didn’t shine softly or glow with comfort.
It cracked. It roared.
She stepped into position, feet grounded. She raised her wand with a focused gleam in her eyes.
"Tonitrus Percutiens."
She slashed the wand downward.
There was no delay. The air froze instantly around the target area. Flowers, vines, even the stone beneath the statue glistened with a sudden frost.
Then ca the lightning—blue-white, jagged, tearing through the air with a sound like the sky breaking open.
The bolt slamd into the base of the statue, and with it ca sothing unexpected: a cold fire, pale and eerie, erupted from the strike zone. It didn’t burn red or orange. It shimred blue, licking the base of the statue without consuming it, casting long shadows across the frost-covered garden.
Eira tilted her head. The sight of fire that didn’t burn—that only glowed—was srizing.
She walked closer, the frozen petals crunching beneath her boots. The air was cool but not biting. The fire didn’t radiate heat but humd with energy.
"Tastes sharp," she said to herself with a satisfied smile, twirling her wand once more.
The power of the spell was quite strong and quite ancient since the spell was a forgotten one. And now It belonged to her.
And more importantly, it was useful—deeply so. Eira didn’t yet have a signature spell to call her own, one that marked her legacy. But this spell... it had the potential to beco just that. If she mastered it, it could beco her defining magic—sothing unique, sothing powerful. A spell not just tied to her, but one that could be passed down through her bloodline, a treasured inheritance. A legacy spell, known only to her family—because only they would have the heart strong enough to wield it.
She tested the spell again—once more with a sharp downward flick.
Another bolt of lightning. Another surge of frost. Another flash of cold blue fla wrapping the broken stone.
She stood there for a mont, basking in the contrast. The heatless fire, the crackling frost, and above it all, the soft, bright mory of the silver owl still glowing faintly in her mind.
It was powerfully.
She turned, walking back toward the center of the clearing.
Just before she left, she lifted her wand again and whispered softly, "Expecto Patronum."
The owl soared out again, gliding silently overhead, circling once before coming to rest on a mossy stone just in front of her. It blinked up at her again.
She smiled.
"I think I’ll na you later."
The owl gave a single, slow blink, as if that suited it just fine.
Then it disappeared once more into silver mist, leaving only peace behind.
Without hurry, Eira tucked her wand away, her steps light as she headed back toward the Ombrelune’s Hall .
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