The week of examinations descended upon Beauxbâtons like a slow-moving storm. Even the normally airy halls of the dormitories seed heavier with silence. Where laughter and chatter usually bounced from stone walls and high-arched ceilings, now whispers replaced them, hushed and tense, as if every word might disturb the delicate balance of concentration each student clung to.
Eira could feel it most clearly in Ombrelune’s dormitory. , in the dorm hall those students who were often casual and teasing, had transford overnight into studious shadows of themselves, bent over parchnt by candlelight. Books on magical creatures, charms, potions, and alchemy were scattered across the common tables, their spines bent and pages stuffed with scraps of notes. Marin, unusually quiet, had taken to walking with Eira to class in silence, lips pressed thin with nerves, though every so often He would glance over and flash a small smile as if to reassure that he was still alive but Eira knew he was under a lot of pressure and stress since this year she didn’t helped him .
For Eira, the pressure was different. She had studied diligently all year, and her mind held the lessons like a well-organized library. The nerves of others brushed against her but rarely sank in or had any effect on her.
The first exam ca on a clear Tuesday morning: Care of Magical Creatures with Professor Claude Moreau.
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The exam was not held in the grassy enclosures where Professor Moreau usually paraded nifflers or bowtruckles for them to observe, nor in the stables where Abraxans pawed the earth with restless hooves. Instead, the students filed into the classroom, rows of desks laid out neatly, parchnt already waiting for them. The familiar scent of hay and animal musk that usually lingered here had been replaced by the sterile tang of ink.
Professor Moreau, kind and gentle as always with his silver-streaked hair tied back and a beard that made him cute looking grandpa , walked slowly to the front of the room.
"You will have three hours," he said. His voice carried over the students like a whip-crack. "Your task is simple: demonstrate knowledge of the creatures we have studied this year. Their habitats, their diets, their uses in magical society, and the dangers they pose. Write with clarity. No points for excess, only precision."
The exam paper unfurled itself before Eira, and she dipped her quill in ink. The first question:
Describe the habitat and dietary needs of the Diricawl, and comnt on the magical misconceptions surrounding its disappearance.
Eira’s quill began to glide across the parchnt. She described the bird’s natural ho in the warr islands of the Atlantic, its diet of small insects and fruit, and the Muggle myth of its extinction, born from its uncanny ability to vanish and reappear elsewhere. She noted how this ability had inspired confusion in Muggle naturalists, and how wizarding communities quietly protected the species.
The next section asked about mooncalves—their skittish nature, the silvery luminescent patterns they left in fields during mating dances, and their surprisingly nutritious dung, prized by herbologists. Another question turned to red caps, the murderous little creatures haunting battlefields soaked with blood, and Eira carefully wrote of their danger to unprepared wizards and their relative uselessness beyond being warnings of cursed ground.
She wrote steadily, her mind clear. Each creature rose in her thoughts as if she were introducing old friends: the mischievous nifflers who rooted for treasure; the thestrals, skeletal yet noble, seen only by those who had known death; and the lethifold, a creature of nightmares, against which only the Patronus Charm could prevail. She filled her parchnt without pause, her quill scratching steadily until at last she leaned back, stretching her hand.
Around her, other students groaned softly, so chewing quills, others staring hopelessly at empty spaces on their parchnt. Marin, two rows ahead, bit his lip in concentration, his hand flying in hurried strokes.
When Professor Moreau finally called, "Ti," Eira set down her quill with quiet satisfaction. She had finished everything, thorough and complete.
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The Alchemy Exam
The next morning brought the second exam: Alchemy, taught by Professor Alaric Vilmont. His exams were infamous for their detail, not their cruelty, but because he demanded a precise respect for the art of transformation. Alchemy, he often said, was "no playground for the careless mind."
This ti, the exam hall was the Alchemy classroom itself, rows of polished wooden desks set with neat parchnt scrolls. No cauldrons, no ingredients—just the silence of expectation.
Professor Vilmont, robed immaculately in deep green, stood at the front with his hands folded. "You are not yet practitioners," he said, his voice calm but commanding, "but you are apprentices to knowledge. Today you will show what you understand of alchemy’s history and its foundations. There will be no brewing, no stones transmuted. Only thought and mory. Begin."
The exam began with a long essay question:
Explain the symbolic significance of the Philosopher’s Stone in wizarding tradition, and distinguish between its mythical properties and the practical goals of alchemy as an academic discipline.
Eira’s quill moved swiftly. She wrote of Nicolas Flal, of the centuries-long pursuit of immortality and limitless wealth, and the way the Stone represented both wizarding ambition and the danger of obsession. She contrasted the mythical perfection of the Stone with the true heart of alchemy: the transformation of base into refined, ignorance into wisdom, chaos into harmony.
Other sections asked for brief notes on alchemical symbols—the ouroboros, rcury, sulfur, and salt, and their correspondences to spirit, volatility, and permanence. Another required explanations of the practical contributions of alchemy: refining potions, stabilizing magical alloys, and improving enchantnt resilience.
Eira found the exam straightforward, her preparation carrying her through. She did not rush, instead writing carefully, ensuring each response was balanced and thorough. When she finished, she still had half an hour left, which she used to re-read her work, correcting a word here and there.
As they left the room, many students groaned, Marin among them, though he smiled faintly at Eira. "You look as though you just wrote a book," he teased softly.
Eira only shrugged, though a small smile tugged at her lips and said .
"What can I say I am a genius after all "
And to this remark Marin rolled his eyes and murmured sothing about being narcissistic and not being ashad of showing off.
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The Charms Exam
By Thursday ca the Charms exam—a subject Eira enjoyed imnsely, taught by Professor Chamberlain, the most beloved professor in the school. He was jovial and encouraging, his classroom always filled with laughter, but when exams ca, he demanded the results of all what he taught in all the school year.
The written portion covered the spells they had practiced all term. Questions asked them to describe the incantation, wand movent, and common errors of charms such as Aguanti (the water-conjuring charm) and Accio (the Summoning Charm). Eira wrote fluently about their applications—Aguanti to quench fires, to fill containers, or in advanced cases, to provide potable water in ergencies; Accio to retrieve objects across distances, limited by line of sight, weight, and magical interference.
The practical portion was what the students feared most.
"Now, let us see what you can do," Professor Chamberlain said cheerfully, his wand twirling between his fingers. "Each of you will step forward and perform the spells as directed. Precision over flair, rember."
Students went one by one. So produced only dribbles of water from their wands; others summoned objects with awkward jerks, nearly toppling themselves. Laughter rippled gently through the classroom, though the professor always clapped and encouraged.
When Eira’s turn ca, she stepped forward with calm confidence. At Chamberlain’s nod, she flicked her wand. "Aguanti!"
A steady, clear stream of water burst from her wand, splashing into the waiting basin until she cut it off with a flick. The professor grinned.
"Well done! A clean stream, no sputtering. Full Marks."
"Now," he continued, dragging a heavy trunk across the floor, "let us see your Accio. Bring this to you."
Eira raised her wand. "Accio trunk!"
The trunk jolted, then slid swiftly across the room, stopping neatly at her feet without colliding into her. A ripple of impressed murmurs passed among her classmates.
Professor Chamberlain chuckled. "Flawless. You even moderated the speed. That level of control is more advanced than required. Excellent, Miss White."
She only inclined her head slightly and a smile to acknowledge professor’s word about her before returning to her seat.
By the end of the exam, Eira felt a quiet sense of triumph. Not only had she answered well, but she had also demonstrated her growing command of magic.
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