Eira woke early that morning, sunlight filtering softly through the gauzy curtains of her bedroom at the White family manor in Paris. The air was cool and fragrant with the scent of blooming jasmine from the garden below. She sat up in bed for a moment, eyes drifting to the view from her window — the sprawling gardens, dotted with vibrant flowers and towering ancient trees, framed by the familiar roofs of neighboring muggle houses and small shops.
The serenity of the morning brought a gentle smile to her lips. Though the world beyond the manor was often turbulent and chaotic, here there was a peacefulness she cherished.
A faint knock came at the door, and Emma's voice called softly, "My lady, your morning correspondence has arrived."
Eira nodded, pulling on a soft robe as Emma entered, carrying a neatly folded parchment sealed with the elegant emblem of Beauxbâtons. "Ah, the letter from school," Eira murmured, unfolding it with practiced fingers.
Emma waited patiently as Eira read through the list of required books, school supplies, and other materials for her upcoming third year. The letter reminded her of a familiar routine — a mixture of excitement and the mild stress of preparing for another year of rigorous study.
"Looks like a busy year ahead," Emma noted as Eira finished reading. "Shall we head to Allée des Merveilles and gather what you need?"
Eira's eyes brightened. "Yes, I'd like that. I want to visit Marin's bookstore as well. I've heard her mother keeps a wonderful selection, especially of magical animal tomes and rare editions."
Within moments, they were using the Floo Network, their flames glowing a brilliant green as they transported themselves seamlessly to the bustling magical shopping street. The Allée des Merveilles was alive with color and energy — vendors calling out, children laughing, and the scent of freshly baked pastries mingling with the magical atmosphere.
First, they moved through the various stalls and shops, acquiring parchment, quills, cauldrons, and all manner of classroom necessities. The excitement of preparing for school mingled with the familiarity of the place, as Eira felt a sense of belonging despite the distance from her family's main estate.
Finally, they reached the quaint bookstore that Marin's mother owned. Its exterior was modest but charming, painted a gentle blue that matched Marin's own vibrant hair color. Eira pushed open the door and was greeted immediately by the warm, comforting scent of old paper and ink.
Inside, a middle-aged woman with striking blue hair — softer in shade and slightly fuller than Marin's — looked up from behind the counter. Her eyes lit up as she saw Eira enter.
"Welcome, my dear! It's such an honor to have the matriarch of the White family grace my little shop," she said with a warm smile that creased the corners of her eyes.
Eira smiled back, a little shy. "Please, call me Eira. Marin speaks of you often; it's lovely to meet you."
The woman laughed gently. "Ah, Marin can be quite talkative! He often mentions his friend Eira and the adventures you two share. Come, tell me what books you need."
Eira's gaze swept the shelves, lingering on well-worn volumes of magical flora and fauna. "I'm looking for the introduction to magical creatures by Newt Scamander — the English edition translated to French. Also, a book on ancient runes and their crafting, perhaps the latest edition by Helga Mjöllnir. And one on basic alchemy principles, if you have a copy of Tobias Amiri's introductory guide."
"Excellent choices," Marin's mother replied, moving gracefully to fetch the books. "These are popular titles, but I'm sure we have them all."
As she handed the books to Eira, the two women began to talk about the upcoming school year, teachers, and the challenges young students face in balancing tradition with modern magical advancements.
Curious, Eira asked, "Where is Marin today? I was hoping to say hello."
The woman's smile faded slightly. "He asked me to go out — apparently, he's meeting someone special. Found himself a girlfriend, it seems."
Eira's eyes twinkled with gentle amusement. "He finally has a girlfriend. That's wonderful news."
The woman sighed deeply, her expression growing somber. "I don't know what to do with him sometimes. I've scolded him more than once for his reckless ways. I fear he's becoming too much like his father."
Her voice faltered, and her eyes misted over with memories. "His father… I haven't seen him since Marin was five. He abandoned us."
Eira listened intently as the woman continued.
"When I was sixteen, I was deceived by him — charmed by his kindness and promises. He was from a wealthy, influential family, and I believed we'd have a future together. But he used me, only a few months, and then vanished. Later, I found out he married his cousin. When I confronted him and told him about my pregnancy, he refused to acknowledge me. Said family duty was more important. He wanted to be the head of the family and that meant making 'proper' alliances."
The woman paused, the hurt raw in her voice.
"I was heartbroken—just a girl barely out of childhood. But I grew stronger, throwing myself into the bookstore to build a life of my own. When Marin was born, his father was involved for the first five years. Then one day, he told me never to mention Marin again. He said that if anyone found out he had a son out of wedlock, it would ruin his reputation. Besides, he already had a child with his wife, so he claimed his real family and duties came first. From that day on, he never visited his son again.
Once, he came here with his wife and daughter—I think they were visiting the Allée des Merveilles. Marin saw him and tried to call out, but the man completely ignored him, as if he didn't exist. From that day forward, Marin never spoke of him again."
Her hands clenched tightly, trembling. "I don't mind anymore—adults live their own lives. But what breaks me is seeing Marin becoming like him: reckless, playing with hearts, heedless. I don't want him to turn into his father and ruin some girl's life, leaving her to end up like me.
I could never bring myself to hate my son. I've done everything to break him of this habit of chasing meaningless romances. I've scolded him, beaten him, even starved him. I've warned him over and over that if he continued, I would leave him. But I can't. I love my son. Despite everything, he is all I have… and I can't bear the thought of losing him and being left completely alone."
Then she sighed. "You might wonder why I'm telling you this, even though it's all in the past, and raising Marin is my responsibility as his mother. But I can't do much more about it. I've done everything I could to make sure he grows into a fine man—honest, kind, respectful to women, compassionate, loving, and caring. And he is all of those things… but he still has that problem."
Eira reached across the counter and gently took the woman's hands in hers. "Your love for Marin is clear. I'll speak to him—perhaps he just needs a reminder from someone his own age. I'll talk to him about the responsibility his actions carry and the consequences they can bring. From what I've seen at school, he only flirts—making jokes and speaking sweetly to girls—but he doesn't cross the line. Still, he needs to learn to control his behavior and habits, and I'll make sure he understands that."
The woman looked up with hopeful eyes. "Would you do that? Really?"
"Absolutely," Eira said firmly.
They talked a while longer about Marin, family, and the hopes they all held for a better future.
Then, the woman brightened. "Before you go, would you mind if we take a photo? I want to place it here, by the counter. It would be a great honor for the bookstore — and for my family , too."
Eira nodded with a warm smile. "Of course, I'd be happy to."
Marin's mother took out a small magical camera, and Eira handed it to Emma so she could capture the moment—Eira standing beside the woman, both smiling gently. The flash shimmered softly as the photo was taken, and the woman's face lit up with gratitude.
"Thank you so much," she said, bowing her head. "It means the world to us."
"No, the honor is mine," Eira replied. "It's a privilege to be here, in this shop full of history and warmth."
With heartfelt goodbyes, Eira and Emma stepped out of the bookstore and strolled down the Allée des Merveilles toward the familiar boutique where she would select her school uniform. The street buzzed softly with the hum of enchantments—the faint rustle of self-folding fabrics in shop windows, the warm glow of floating lanterns overhead. As they walked, Eira tucked her carefully chosen books into a small magical pouch, their weight vanishing for the sake of convenience.