As the days slipped by, Beauxbâtons fell into its familiar rhythm. Eira moved through her classes with quiet focus, her days filled with magical theory, spell practice, and the gentle hum of daily life. More often than not, she found herself accompanied by Marin, whose antics never failed to draw a laugh or roll of the eyes. He was funny in the sort of way that helped distract her thoughts—especially the ones that drifted too often toward Ana.
Howork piled up, assignnts were handed in, and the rare magical flower they had received in Professor Lioré’s class now rested in a crystal vase near her bedside. She watered it diligently, whispering to it as she had been taught, marveling at how the petals seed to glow faintly whenever she was near. So evenings, she would sit alone in the library, her fingers curled around a worn book, and sotis Fleur would join her. They would read in silence or trade whispers between the rows of ancient tos.
And then, quietly, the term ca to an end. It was ti to return ho for the Christmas holidays.
Eira packed her belongings carefully, folding her robes with care and tucking away her wand, books, and the flower, safely enchanted in a preservation pouch. She closed her suitcase and shrunk it into a compact charm-sized parcel, placing it gently into her space pouch. With one final look around the Ombrelune dormitory, she took a breath and stepped out of the room.
Down the winding staircase, in the quiet dawn light of the common hall, Fleur Delacour stood waiting for her. She smiled the mont she saw Eira. Together, they joined the trickle of students moving across the Ombrelune garden, heading toward the departure field where the Abraxan-drawn carriages waited.
The scene was a mirror of the beginning of the school year—only this ti, there was snow dusting the grass and frost clinging to the edges of the marble archways. The Abraxans, majestic winged horses, stomped their hooves impatiently as the students approached.
Eira and Fleur climbed into one of the carriages. After a few minutes of anticipation, the great beasts lifted into the sky, wings spanning wide against the clouds. The carriage rose smoothly, soaring higher until the castle below beca a speck.
"It never stops amazing ," Fleur said, leaning back against the velvet seat. "Every single ti. You’d think you’d feel sothing—but it’s like floating on air."
Eira smiled. "Well, of course it’s beautiful. These Abraxans are spoiled, you know. They drink liters of whiskey—real whiskey! And that special haze infused with magical fruits. No wonder the ride is so smooth. They carry thousands of students each year, and they expect the royal treatnt."
Fleur laughed softly. "Clearly, they get it."
Then she tilted her head and asked curiously, "Where’s that little friend of yours? The boy—what was his na?"
"Marin," Eira replied, chuckling. "He said he was riding with his other friends... or possibly off charming so senior girl."
Fleur let out a delighted giggle. "That one is truly sothing. You know, twice—twice!—he ca to pretending that you sent him. Said you thought I looked lonely and wanted him to be my new boyfriend."
Eira groaned, covering her face. "He what? That little troublemaker. Using my na now to flirt with girls? Honestly, he has no sha."
"And he’s quite good at it too," Fleur added with a grin. "Although, I think I might be the only one who rejected him."
Eira raised an eyebrow. "Only one?"
Fleur waved a hand. "He’s like a puppy. Wagging his tail, looking for attention. I have an uncle far worse than him. I’ve beco sothing of an expert in dealing with hopeless romantics. If you ever need lessons on how to reject boys—or fend off jealous girls blaming you for their broken hearts—I offer private courses."
Eira burst out laughing. "Of course, Professor Delacour. I’ll be your most dedicated student."
After several hours, the carriages began to descend. Below them, nestled among snow-covered trees, was the sa quiet village where their journey had begun in September. The Abraxans landed gracefully in the garden courtyard beside the long stone hall. One by one, students climbed out of the carriages and made their way inside.
At the front of the corridor, the sa two young witches who had welcod them months ago now stood beside a long desk stacked with enchanted keys.
"Destination?" one witch asked.
Each student was handed a pen-shaped door key and given firm instructions: the key would open a portal to a safe magical location near their ho. They were to keep it secure—if lost, there would be a fine. A hefty one.
When it was Fleur’s turn, she turned to Eira and pulled her into a hug. "Joyeux Noël, Eira. I’ll see you after or in the break."
Eira hugged her tightly. "You too, Fleur. Take care."
Then Fleur stepped forward, received her key, and vanished through the portal room .
Eira stepped up next. "Paris," she said.
The witch handed her a polished silver key. "Like I told the others—keep it safe. You’ll need it again at term’s start."
Eira nodded, thanked her, and moved into the next room: the teleportation chamber. She checked her wand, her pouch, and took a steadying breath. With a whisper of incantation, she activated the key.
A rush of wind. A flicker of light.
And she arrived.
The small cabin was tucked deep within a forgotten Parisian alley. From the window, she could see Muggles walking past—none of them sparing so much as a glance. A Muggle-Repelling Charm shimred faintly around the doorway, concealing its presence completely.
Eira stepped forward and softly spoke a na: "Lolly."
With a loud pop, her house-elf appeared, eyes wide and ears twitching.
"Lolly is so happy to see young Miss again!" the elf squeaked, bowing deeply. "Lolly is honored—delighted—to serve young Miss! And my, how Young Miss has grown! How beautiful Miss has beco!"
Eira couldn’t help but smile. "It’s good to see you too, Lolly. I’ve missed you."
At that, Loli sniffled loudly, dabbing at her nose. "Oh! To be missed! Lolly’s heart is bursting!"
"I want to go ho," Eira said gently. "Take to the manor."
"Lolly’s honor to obey," the elf said, grabbing her hand with reverence.
With another loud pop, they Apparated.
Monts later, Eira stood at the edge of her family’s white manor, nestled in the quiet folds of Paris. Snow blanketed the gardens. The windows glowed warmly with light.
Inside, the halls slled of pine and cinnamon. Familiar.
"Is Grandfather ho?" she asked.
"Yes, Miss," Lolly replied. "Master is in his study."
Eira nodded and ascended the staircase to the second floor. She knocked gently on the tall wooden door.
"Co in," ca the deep voice from within.
She entered and found her grandfather, Elijah White, seated behind his desk, a stack of parchnt before him. He looked up as she curtsied.
"I’ve returned for the holidays, Grandfather."
A small smile touched his stern face. "I’m glad to have you ho, Eira. Go rest—you’ve had a long journey."
"Are we staying in France this Christmas?" she asked, pausing at the doorway.
"Yes. We were invited to the Ministry Ball in London by Minister Fudge, but I declined. We’ll remain here."
Eira nodded once. "That sounds nice. I’ll go rest now."
He gave her a silent nod of approval.
She returned to her room, untouched by ti. The soft lilac curtains still fluttered. The bookshelves still held her favorite volus. After a warm shower, she slipped beneath the covers and closed her eyes.
The manor was still. Outside, the snow fell silently.
And after a long journey, Eira slept.
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