Two days had passed since the Yule Ball, and Hogwarts was caught in that peculiar, cheerful chaos that always followed grand celebrations. The castle’s ancient halls seed brighter despite the soft white snow falling steadily outside the enchanted windows. Students bustled about in scarves and mittens, speaking in hurried whispers or laughing aloud in the corridors, trading tales about the events of that unforgettable night.
Love was in the air—or at least, sothing very close to it. The Yule Ball had created new couples as quickly as it had shattered old ones. Every corner of the castle buzzed with rumor: soone had been rejected under the mistletoe, soone else had been caught sneaking back to their dorm after curfew, and Argus Filch, the ever-watchful caretaker, had reportedly discovered a pair of students "making out" together in a broom cupboard. Hogwarts, during winter holidays, was less an academic institution and more a cauldron of gossip, romantic drama, and snowball fights.
Far from the noise, at the top of the Astronomy Tower, Eira stood alone.
The morning light filtered through drifting snowflakes, bathing her in a pale, golden glow. Her breath ford small clouds in the cold air as she looked toward the Forbidden Forest, its trees cloaked in white silence.
In her hands, she held a small ornate box—old, carved with delicate runes, and decorated with silver inlay that shimred faintly with enchantnt. When opened, the box revealed its treasure: a single feather, glowing softly with hues of orange and black. It shimred with the warmth of life itself. A phoenix feather. Beside it lay a small glass vial filled with shimring ashes of the sa creature.
Eira’s gaze lingered on them, her mind racing quietly.
She knew what these were for—the final ingredients for the Bloodline Awakening Potion, one that could only be consud during the coldest night of winter. The ritual would demand power, secrecy, and probably sacrifice. The potion will give her the blessing of a magical bloodline, but it would also expose her to risks even she hadn’t fully calculated.
She sighed softly, closing the box. Her gloved fingers traced the runes once before she slipped it away into her system space. Her green eyes swept the mountains beyond the Forbidden Forest. Sowhere out there, she would need to find the perfect place—a quiet, safe location where no curious eyes would interfere.
Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of footsteps echoing on the stone floor behind her.
She turned.
Tracey Davis was climbing up the last few steps, her curly hair slightly ssy, cheeks flushed from the morning cold. She wore her green Slytherin scarf loosely around her neck and had the kind of bright, mischievous grin that imdiately made her presence known.
"There you are!" Tracey called out, her voice cheerful as ever. "I’ve been looking all over for you. Co on, let’s go get breakfast! You’ve been standing here since morning."
Eira smiled faintly. "Relax. There’s still ti before the Great Hall runs out of pumpkin juice."
Tracey placed her hands on her hips, feigning impatience. "Still ti, she says. You’re freezing yourself up here like a statue. What are you even doing?"
"I was looking toward the forest," Eira replied calmly, her tone thoughtful. "Trying to decide where to go for sothing... private."
Tracey raised a brow. "Private, huh? Should I be worried or intrigued?"
Eira gave her a sidelong glance and smirked slightly. "You should always be both when it cos to ."
Tracey laughed. "Fair enough. Anyway—speaking of private matters..." Her eyes sparkled mischievously. "Tell , how did you end up being Viktor Krum’s date to the Yule Ball? You kept it so secret that half the school is still gossiping about it. People are saying there was so secret romance going on."
Eira chuckled softly. "Actually, it wasn’t . You’re confusing with yourself. You were his date, rember?"
"Oh—oh right," Tracey blinked, then groaned, realizing her mistake. "You see, that’s how dramatic this castle is. Even I’m starting to believe the rumors about myself."
Eira leaned against the stone railing, her lips curving into an amused smile. "So, are the rumors true, then? That you’ve been seen with him ever since the day he arrived at Hogwarts, and that you two have been secretly dating, hiding it from everyone until the Yule Ball?"
Tracey rolled her eyes. "There’s no such thing as a hidden relationship. I just asked him one day when he was coming out of the library. He looked surprised, but then he smiled and said yes. Simple as that."
Eira’s smile widened. "So you were bold enough to ask the great Bulgarian Seeker yourself. That’s impressive."
Tracey puffed up proudly for a mont, then deflated with a sigh. "Oh, don’t make it sound heroic. I was terrified. I thought he’d laugh at or sothing, but he didn’t. He actually seed... sweet about it."
"That’s sweet indeed," Eira said, teasingly. "So, what now? Anything still going on between you two?"
Tracey’s expression darkened a little. "No. After that night, I haven’t even seen him. He hasn’t sent a single letter either. I thought about going to his ship once, but then I stopped myself. If he doesn’t care enough to reach out, why should I?"
Eira raised an eyebrow, amused. "What happened to you? Just last week you were swooning over him like he was so sort of divine creature. Now you’re suddenly all dignified."
Tracey lifted her chin, mock-proud. "Because I am a dignified woman, thank you. I know my worth. I asked him first—bravely, I might add—and if he doesn’t value that, it’s his loss."
Eira chuckled. "That’s my girl. But still, be careful not to fall to fall for him. He’ll be gone in a few months, and long-distance love rarely survives, and you know he’s older than you."
Tracey smirked, crossing her arms. "Oh? That’s rich, coming from you."
Eira blinked. "What do you an?"
Tracey leaned closer with a sly grin. "Your French girlfriend is older than you too. Maybe take your own advice before giving it to ."
Eira’s mouth twitched. "That’s different."
"Oh really?" Tracey teased. "And how exactly is it different, my dear Lady White?"
Eira looked away, feigning composure. "Because I’ve known her for years. Our relationship developed naturally, through ti and friendship."
"Uh-huh," Tracey said, clearly unconvinced. "Tell yourself that if it helps you sleep at night. Anyway, my thing with Krum wasn’t serious. I had fun during the Yule Ball, and that’s that."
Eira gave a small, approving nod. "Fair enough."
Before either of them could continue, a sharp flutter of wings echoed through the tower. A large brown owl swooped through the open archway and landed gracefully on the railing in front of them, dropping a rolled newspaper directly into Eira’s hands. The bird hooted once before flying off again, leaving behind a faint trail of snow.
Tracey’s eyes sparkled. "Ah, the Daily Prophet. Let’s see what scandal they’ve cooked up today."
Eira unrolled the paper—and froze. Her expression shifted from calm curiosity to mild surprise.
Tracey imdiately leaned over. "What’s wrong?" Then her eyes widened. "Oh. Oh wow."
The front page displayed a large, moving photograph. It captured the exact mont from the Yule Ball when the four champions had been dancing. And at the end of the dance—when Fleur had leaned down and kissed Eira on the lips—it had been perfectly, unmistakably caught by the photographer.
The caption underneath blazed in gold ink:
"The Rumors Were True: The Young Patriarch of the Noble House of White Has a Preference for Won."
Tracey burst out laughing, clutching her stomach. "Oh rlin’s beard, Eira! They actually printed it! You’ve officially stolen the spotlight from Harry Potter himself. The whole wizarding world’s going to be talking about you now."
Eira sighed, scanning the article. "I was planning to make an announcent myself soday, but I suppose the Prophet just saved the trouble." She tilted her head thoughtfully. "Still, I wonder who took the picture. Dumbledore certainly wouldn’t have allowed any reporters inside."
Tracey wagged her eyebrows. "Maybe you’ve got a secret admirer. A stalker, even. How romantic."
Eira rolled her eyes and folded the paper neatly. "Romantic isn’t the word I’d use. Co on, let’s go to breakfast before the rest of the castle finds copies."
Tracey grinned. "Oh no, I definitely want to see their reactions. You know, everyone already saw that kiss in person, but now that it’s in print? You’re officially Hogwarts’ biggest headline."
As they began descending the narrow staircase, Tracey continued talking animatedly. "You know what’s funny, though? Before you ca to Hogwarts, everyone treated you like this untouchable mystery. The great Eira White, prodigy of Beauxbâtons, heir to the House of White, and—" she lowered her voice dramatically, "—possibly the female Dumbledore of our generation."
Eira laughed softly. "Female Dumbledore? That’s a new one."
"Oh, trust ," Tracey went on, "you were the legend. Every ti your na ca up, people either admired you or were terrified of you. And now—" she grinned, "—you’re suddenly the romantic heroine in every boy’s heartbreak story."
Eira chuckled again. "I’m not sure if that’s an improvent."
"Oh, it is," Tracey said quickly. "You wouldn’t believe how many boys were groaning during the Yule Ball when they saw you and Fleur kissing. Two of the most beautiful girls in the school, just—well, you know."
Eira raised an eyebrow, teasingly. "So you think I’m beautiful?"
Tracey’s eyes widened. "Hey, hey—careful there, Lady White. I like n, thank you very much. Don’t start getting ideas."
Eira smirked. "Relax, I was only teasing."
"Good," Tracey said with mock seriousness. "Because if you start flirting with , I’ll have to duel you, and we both know how that would end."
"With you stunned on the floor, I imagine," Eira replied smoothly.
Tracey elbowed her playfully. "Careful, lady White. You already have one girl making headlines over you. Don’t make the next victim."
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