The grand doors of the Starhall at the Château de Beauxbâtons loomed before Eira like an ancient portal welcoming her back to a world she both loved and knew well. The soft glow of the chandeliers overhead, the gleam of polished marble, and the gentle hum of excited chatter filled the vast hall. Outside, the sky had long since dipped into twilight, and the silvery moon cast a faint glow through the tall stained glass windows, scattering colors across the polished floors.
It was the evening of August 31st, the traditional night marking the start of the new school year. The Starhall was already alive with students filing in, their robes rustling, their laughter and greetings weaving a tapestry of youthful excitement. The long tables—each adorned with a shimmering banner—beckoned as the three houses prepared to welcome both returning students and the eager first-years.
Eira slipped through the crowd and found her usual seat at the Ombrelune table, her heart quickening with the comforting rhythm of familiar faces. Nearby, Marin was already seated, a mischievous grin spreading across his face when he saw her approach.
"Ah, Lady White!" Marin called out playfully, waving a hand in greeting. "Right on time as always. Though I was starting to wonder if you'd been swallowed by some enchanted book somewhere."
Eira chuckled and took the seat beside him. "Very funny. I visited the bookstore couple of days ago , you weren't there ."
Marin's eyes sparkled with interest and nervousness . "Oh? Did you get to see mom? I hope you didn't ?"
"Ha! I did, actually. Your mum was the one who welcomed me and sold me the books." Eira smiled mischievously. "She was kind enough to chat with me for a while. I even heard you were busy with your usual pastime—breaking girls' hearts."
Marin shifted, his cheeks tinting with a light blush. "Yeah… well, I was on a… date."
Eira raised an eyebrow, the hint of a teasing smile curling her lips. "A date? With whom?"
"Just a girl… I only took her to a hotel for a simple meal," Marin said shyly, glancing away.
"A girl?" Eira repeated, her tone mock-serious. "And which hotel did you take her to?"
Marin smirked, mischief dancing in his eyes. "Your hotel, of course."
Eira's eyes widened. "My hotel? How did you manage that?"
Marin chuckled. "I just told them I was a friend of yours. They seemed to know me well enough after that."
Eira crossed her arms and raised a brow, voice playful but firm. "Well, you can go to that hotel, but don't you dare use my name again. I won't tolerate that."
"Relax!" Marin laughed, waving a hand dismissively. "I won't abuse the privilege. A little friendship perk, right?"
Eira rolled her eyes, though a smile lingered on her lips. Their easy banter was a welcome balm against the heavy weight of responsibilities she bore.
Before more could be said, a familiar fragrance filled the air — a delicate blend of jasmine, rose, and something uniquely refined. Eira's gaze drifted toward the entrance of the table, where Fleur, radiant as ever, gracefully took a seat beside her.
"Welcome, Fleur," Eira greeted, returning the warm smile.
Eira looked into her eyes and said, "You know, I sent you a lot of letters, but I never got a response. Why was that?"
Fleur's eyes gleamed with a mix of happiness and apology. "Thank you, Eira. I did receive your letters, you know."
She sighed softly. "I was a bit upset about my OWL exams. I just couldn't bring myself to answer properly."
Eira's smile softened. "Oh, did you get your results then?"
"Indeed," Fleur replied with a long sigh. "All top marks—except for bloody Alchemy. I was just two points shy of the top score, and that ruined my prefect record. I felt terrible for days. You know I worked hard all year, but it all came down to those two points."
Eira nodded approvingly. "Well, it's not the end of the world. Next year, in the N.E.W.T.s, you'll crush it. Then the OWLs won't matter so much. Of course, you can always take the exam again after you graduate."
Fleur gave a small, hopeful sigh. "I hope so."
Their conversation was gently interrupted as Madame Maxime ascended to the podium, commanding the room's attention with her usual graceful authority.
"Welcome, everyone, to the new school year!" Madame Maxime's voice resonated throughout the hall. "I trust that the summer has rejuvenated you and prepared you for the months ahead. I am pleased to say that this year, we have received no complaints from your parents regarding academic dissatisfaction. A promising start indeed."
The hall erupted in quiet applause.
"Now," Madame Maxime continued, "we shall begin by welcoming the first-year students as they embark on their journey to find their houses. Please gather and prepare yourselves for the sorting ceremony."
The atmosphere grew hushed as the much-anticipated Mirori de ľÉtoile Première was brought forth — a legendary Mirror, framed in silver and crystal, its surface shimmering mysteriously. One by one, the first-years stepped forward, their names called in a melodious cadence, faces a mixture of nervousness and excitement.
Eira watched closely as each new student faced the mirror, which reflected not only their image but also the inner spark that would decide their house placement. Atop the mirror, a glowing star pulsed softly, shifting colors to represent Ombrelune's deep silver, Papillonlisse's soft violet, or Bellefeuille vibrant greens.
As the last of the first-years were sorted, Madame Maxime's voice rose once more. "Now that the new members of our Beauxbâtons family are settled, it is time for tradition — the welcoming dance."
The hall's lighting dimmed slightly, replaced by floating lanterns shaped like butterflies that fluttered gracefully around the room. Pairs of senior students, their robes gleaming and smiles bright, rose from their seats and took to the floor.
Music swelled — an elegant, lilting melody that spoke of magic, mystery, and camaraderie. The dancers moved with practiced grace, weaving through the crowd in steps both intricate and flowing, their every move accompanied by delicate spells that painted shimmering trails in the air.
Eira's eyes followed them with delight, her earlier conversation with Marin remembered fondly.
"Looks like another year of dancing and drama," Marin whispered beside her, a shining light in his eye.
Eira laughed softly. "Indeed. It wouldn't be Beauxbâtons without it."
When the dance came to a close, Madame Maxime returned to the podium, her smile warm and sincere. "Thank you to all our seniors students for such a splendid start to the evening. May this year bring you knowledge, friendships, and adventures."
Her gaze swept over the students gathered. "Now, let us enjoy our dinner. The tables await."
At that moment, the Starhall doors glided open with a silent grace, and long banquet tables laden with platters of food floated gently inside, guided by unseen magic. The aroma of freshly baked bread, roasted meats, exotic fruits, and delicate pastries filled the room.
Eira's stomach gave a small rumble, and she exchanged amused glances with Fleur.
The tables aligned themselves beside the house banners, and the students eagerly gathered their seats. At the Ombrelune table, plates quickly filled with a delightful mix of French and magical cuisine — buttered croissants, enchanted cheeses that sang softly when bitten, crystal-clear waters shimmering with sparkling enchantments.
As they ate, the buzz of conversation resumed, friends sharing tales of summer exploits, hopes for the new year, and whispered secrets.
"So," Fleur began, a sly grin crossing her face, "did you hear about Madame Maxime's new flying broomstick lessons?"
Eira raised a brow. "No, but I wouldn't be surprised if she's trying to put us all to shame."
Fleur laughed. "She says that the broom is not just for flying but for expressing one's true spirit. I'm not sure if I should be impressed or terrified."
Marin chimed in softly, "I think I'll stick to my charm spells and potions."
Eira glanced around the tables of the other houses. The students were enjoying their meals, most eating with elegance and grace. Then her eyes settled on a particular professor responsible for this—the one in charge of the magical etiquette class. Professor Noëlle de Vauclère sat at the professors' table, eating her dinner with perfect poise. Every plate and piece of cutlery was arranged in precise order; nothing was out of place. She ate with the dignity and grace of a princess.
Eira rolled her eyes and muttered to herself, Thank Merlin we don't have her insufferable class anymore.
Nearby, Fleur, who had just finished a glass of juice, asked, "What? You don't have it?"
Eira smiled and replied, "The Magical Etiquette class."
Fleur laughed. "So you didn't like it either? Don't worry, you're not alone. Most students hate that class. And you know, most of them fail it because the professor is so strict during exams. In my first and second years, my marks were just average."
Eira smirked. "Why am I not surprised?"
Fleur grinned. "I've completely forgotten most of the lessons—except the table etiquette, of course."
"Well," Eira said, "most of that class isn't something we use daily, so it's no wonder it's forgotten."
As the evening wound down, Marin leaned closer with a conspiratorial whisper. "So, Eira, what's the plan for tonight? Any secret political meetings with powerful purebloods for the betterment of the Wizarding World?"
Eira grinned. "Tonight? I think I'm just going to enjoy the moment."
Marin smirked. "Wise choice."
The Starhall slowly emptied as students began to disperse to their dormitories, the air still tinged with the magic of new beginnings.
Eira stayed a moment longer, gazing up at the grand chandeliers sparkling like stars.
"Quite an enjoyable beginning to the school year "