As the heavy doors of the courtroom closed behind them, Eira and Fleur stepped into the marble-lit corridor of the Ministry of Magic's lower levels. The air was lighter now, the tension of the hearing slowly dissolving into the ambient murmur of wizarding affairs.
Outside, near a gilded pillar, Minister Fudge was engaged in conversation with another official. Upon noticing Eira, his face brightened, and he excused himself politely before approaching her with a smile.
"Miss. White," he greeted warmly. "It's good to see you again. It's been quite a while."
Eira returned his smile with grace. "Minister Fudge . I hope you've been well, especially with how busy the Ministry must be lately."
Fudge gave a soft chuckle, nodding. "Oh yes, the days seem to disappear with all the new initiatives we're managing. But I must say—thanks to the generous donation from the White family, last year's projects exceeded our expectations. Your family's support was instrumental."
He paused, then added with a glance around, "Speaking of which, where is your grandfather? I received a letter yesterday mentioning you would be attending in his stead."
Eira folded her hands neatly in front of her. "He sends his deepest regrets. A family matter kept him from attending, but he entrusted me to represent the family in his absence."
"Well," Minister Fudge said, clearly impressed, "you did a remarkable job. I believe this was your first time representing your house in an official hearing?"
Eira inclined her head. "It was. Thank you for your kind words, Minister."
Fudge's expression turned more thoughtful. "There's another matter I'd like to discuss—two new projects in development. One involves revitalizing Diagon Alley, appointing new Aurors, and increasing safety measures. But funding remains a concern. If you could mention it to your grandfather…"
"I will," Eira assured him. "I'll bring it to his attention."
"Thank you, Miss. White," he said, bowing slightly. "Your family has long supported the Ministry, and I am personally grateful."
Eira's tone carried both pride and legacy. "The White family was among the original founders of the Ministry of Magic. We've always recognized and respected its authority—and we shall continue to do so."
Just then, a familiar presence approached. Albus Dumbledore, regal in his deep plum robes, stepped forward beside Cornelius Fudge. His blue eyes twinkled behind his half-moon glasses as he looked at Eira and Fleur.
"It appears this is our first official meeting, Miss. White," Dumbledore said with a gentle smile. "I regret not introducing myself sooner."
Eira responded with polished etiquette, offering a small curtsy. "It's an honor to meet you, Mr Dumbledore. I've heard much about you, and I'm pleased to finally make your acquaintance."
Dumbledore's eyes gleamed. "Today, you were both brave and eloquent. You spoke with clarity and conviction. Hogwarts has surely lost a brilliant witch to Beauxbatons. Madame Maxime is fortunate to have you."
Eira's cheeks tinged slightly pink. "That's very kind of you, sir . But I don't rule out the idea of transferring to Hogwarts, if permitted."
"You'd be more than welcome," Dumbledore said warmly. "Hogwarts never closes its doors to bright minds. Should you choose to join us, the school would be honored."
"I'll give it serious thought," Eira replied sincerely.
Dumbledore tilted his head slightly. "As I recall, you made your public debut only recently, during this year's Spring Ball?"
Eira nodded. "Yes. Before that, I had been unwell and avoided public engagements."
Dumbledore gave her a respectful nod. "Then I shall look forward to your visit to Hogwarts, whenever that may be. Until then, Miss. White."
He turned to Fleur, switching seamlessly into fluent French as he addressed her with equal courtesy. After bidding them both goodbye, Dumbledore and Fudge strode away, speaking in low tones.
Fleur, visibly stunned, stared after them. Eira nudged her playfully.
"Why the look of shock?" she asked.
Fleur blinked and exhaled. "I just… I finally saw him. The most famous wizard of our time."
Eira raised an eyebrow. "Didn't think you'd be that impressed."
Fleur rolled her eyes. "Oh, come on. Since I was a girl, I've heard the name Albus Dumbledore. Even Madame Maxime spoke of him with awe. She said he and Sir Nicolas Flamel helped save Paris from Grindelwald himself. He's respected across France—no, across the world."
Eira nodded, more subdued. "True. Though in Britain, not everyone shares that respect. Some pure-blood families… aren't particularly fond of him."
"Of course not," Fleur replied bluntly. "Dumbledore stands in direct opposition to their outdated ideals. He's the only one with both the power and the influence to challenge them. Naturally, they resent him."
They stepped into the lift and ascended from the sixth level underground. The golden gates opened to the vast, bustling atrium of the Ministry of Magic.
As they made their way to the main exit, Eira spotted Lucius Malfoy in conversation with a member of the Yaxley family. He noticed her and excused himself.
"Well, well, Miss. White," he said smoothly. "What a pleasant surprise. It's been far too long. I hope you're well."
"Thank you, Mr. Malfoy. I'm quite well. It's good to see you."
He nodded approvingly. "You represented your family with remarkable dignity today. A proper heiress of a noble house. I only hope that one day, Draco might show the same capability for the Malfoy name."
"I'm sure Draco will do so," Eira replied courteously. "He's a clever boy."
Lucius turned to Fleur with a glint of curiosity. "And may I ask who this lovely young lady is?"
Fleur gave a small bow. "Hello, Mr. Malfoy. I am Fleur Delacour of the Delacour family."
Lucius arched a brow, intrigued. "Ah, the Delacours. Our families once had business ties—regrettably no longer active. Still, it's an honor to meet a member of your house."
After the polite exchange, Lucius returned his gaze to Eira. "We sent several invitations for you to visit Malfoy Manor. Your aunt Narcissa was especially eager to see you. But I understand you were preparing for your studies in France."
"Yes," Eira said. "I had to immerse myself in the language and customs. It was quite the adjustment."
"A pity," Lucius said with a sigh. "Draco had hoped to attend Beauxbatons with you. Sadly, his application was declined. I believe the French Ministry intervened."
"I heard," Eira said softly.
"Nevertheless, he's now settled at Hogwarts," Lucius continued. "He'd be delighted to see you. Perhaps you'll consider visiting us over the Christmas holidays?"
"I can't promise," Eira replied carefully. "But if the opportunity arises… I'd be glad to."
With a final nod, Lucius excused himself, swept away by another call for his attention.
Once he was out of sight, Fleur leaned close, frowning. "Who is this Malfoy? Draco Malfoy?"
Eira gave her a wry smile. "His son."
Fleur glanced back. "Well, I didn't like the way he spoke to you. Too familiar."
"I know. They've tried several times to arrange a visit. Even invited me to their home. It's clear what they want."
"A marriage?" Fleur asked bluntly.
Fleur looked troubled. "So it's about breeding, right? If you, the White family heir, marry that Draco boy… all your family's assets go to them. And if the Malfoys also secure the Black family's inheritance, they'd become one of the wealthiest pure-blood families in all of Europe—possibly even more influential outside Britain."
"That seems to be the plan," Eira admitted. "Marrying into wealth and legacy."
Fleur shaking her head and nudged her. "Come on. Let's get out of here."
Eira checked her watch. "Up for a trip to the Muggle world?"
Fleur hesitated. "But… our clothes. We'll look odd."
"We'll buy some new ones," Eira replied cheerfully.
"But… we don't have any Muggle money!" Fleur whispered urgently.
"Don't worry," Eira said with a grin. "I brought some pounds. We'll get Muggle clothes, go for a walk, and maybe eat at a restaurant."
Fleur's face lit up. "Really? That sounds… exciting."
They stepped into a Ministry Floo station, and in a flash of green flame, arrived in a tucked-away Muggle bathroom in central London. The door creaked open, and they emerged—robed, elegant, and still slightly magical—onto the bustling, modern streets.