The sky above Paris was a soft pale gray that late afternoon, the clouds hanging low and heavy as if holding back a gentle drizzle. Eira stepped through the cobblestone streets that led toward the familiar corner of the Allée des Merveilles, her pace steady and confident. Her mind was still lightly humming with anticipation for the school year, but now her thoughts were on one special stop: Madame Rochelle's shop, the place she had returned to for the past two years for her Beauxbâtons school uniform.
Today marked the start of her third-year shopping trip and all the preparations that came with it, and, as always, the ritual of choosing her school clothes filled her with a quiet, delicate excitement.
She paused before the boutique's entrance and smiled at the new door — a subtle marvel of magical fashion and craftsmanship. The door was not just a simple entrance but an enchanted dress-shaped portal. As she stepped close, the folds of a deep midnight blue gown shimmered and rippled, then gracefully parted like curtains, revealing the warm light and inviting interior within.
Stepping inside, Eira was immediately greeted by a soft chiming bell and the warm scent of fine silks, lavender, and a hint of sandalwood. The shop was a stunning fusion of elegance and modern enchantments — softly glowing chandeliers cast gentle light on plush carpets and carved wooden shelves lined with fabrics from all over the wizarding world.
And there, standing just beyond the front counter, was Madame Rochelle herself — a strikingly beautiful woman in her mid-forties, with lustrous chestnut hair pinned elegantly back, eyes sparkling with warmth and kindness. Her welcoming smile brightened the room as she noticed her esteemed guest.
"Welcome, welcome, Lady White!" Madame Rochelle said, her voice rich and melodic. "It's truly an honor to see you again. And this time, with the dignity of the head of the White family upon your shoulders."
Eira returned the smile, but with a gentle shake of her head. "Please, Madame Rochelle, you don't need to treat me like a noble here. For the first time I came here to buy clothes, you were just as warm and kind, so treat me as you do any other customer."
"Oh, no, no," Madame Rochelle said with a playful glint in her eyes. "You are my most valuable customer, Eira. How could I not treat you with special care? Especially since after your visit last year, my little shop has blossomed like never before. Your patronage has brought me blessings I cannot describe."
Eira glanced around, noting the subtle but remarkable changes since her last visit. The interior was more sumptuous now, with gilded mirrors, silk-draped fitting rooms, and even magical mannequins that floated softly in the air, their delicate limbs moving gracefully as they modeled the latest designs.
"Oh, so you've become quite rich then, Madame Rochelle?" Eira teased, eyes bright with amusement. "The design and decor are absolutely exquisite. I see elegance and magic woven into every corner."
Madame Rochelle beamed with pride. "I credit much of this success to you, Lady White. Your impeccable taste inspired me to raise my craft to new heights."
Eira laughed softly, shaking her head. "No, that's mostly your own brilliance. I only provide the canvas — you paint the masterpiece."
With a satisfied nod, Madame Rochelle turned toward the floating mannequins. "Speaking of masterpieces," she said, "this year, I've brought in the finest enchantments and fabrics. You'll find your school uniform tailored like never before — but I also have designs for more formal attire, perfect for the many official meetings your position demands."
Eira's eyes twinkled with interest. "I'd like that very much. Please, make me two or three sets of clothes — different designs. School uniforms and elegant dresses for public occasions. I trust your judgment entirely."
"It would be my honor," Madame Rochelle said warmly. "And what about your assistant, Emma? I'm sure she deserves the most beautiful garments, too."
Emma shook her head modestly. "It's really not necessary, Madame Rochelle. I'm quite content with what I have."
Eira gave Emma a playful glance. "Nonsense. You must have fine clothes, too. You should never waste your beauty or elegance — especially when visiting my aunt for your little dates. Appearances matter in dating world."
Emma blushed, her cheeks warming, and stammered, "Please, my lady, don't say that. I'm grateful, but really—"
Eira interrupted with a teasing smile. "Yes, yes. You heard the lady. Madame Rochelle will dress you in the finest."
With a pleased chuckle, Madame Rochelle began to take Eira's measurements, her practiced hands gentle and precise as they traced over the young girl's shoulders and arms.
"Oh, you've grown quite well," she remarked admiringly. "At thirteen and already 165 centimeters — a lovely height for a young lady. I wouldn't be surprised if you grow a little more yet."
Eira nodded with a shy smile. "I suppose I'm lucky with the height."
Next, Madame Rochelle measured Emma, noting with a professional eye her posture and frame. The soft quiet in the room spoke volumes of their mutual respect and the importance of this simple, intimate ritual.
As Madame Rochelle worked, the conversation drifted to lighter topics — the changing fashions at Beauxbâtons, the demands of public life, and the challenges young women face balancing tradition and modernity. Eira listened thoughtfully, occasionally sharing her own observations from her experience at school and in her family.
After all the measurements and initial fittings, Madame Rochelle turned with a satisfied smile. "I'll send the completed school uniforms directly to your manor as soon as they're ready. The formal dresses will take longer, of course — I want them to be perfect, worthy of the White family."
Eira gave a grateful nod. "Thank you, Madame Rochelle. Your care means a great deal to me."
"As always," Madame Rochelle said with a bow, "I look forward to seeing you again soon."
The two women exchanged warm farewells as Eira and Emma stepped back into the bustling street. The first hints of twilight softened the Parisian sky, the shops glowing softly against the encroaching night.
As they walked away, Eira felt a quiet thrill of anticipation — the coming year would bring to her life.