As the bathroom door creaked open, a gentle waft of perfume and disinfectant gave way to the vibrant hum of Muggle London. Outside, the city was alive—horns honked, buses roared past, and pedestrians hurried along the wide pavements, each absorbed in their own little world.
Eira stepped out confidently, adjusting her cloak as if she'd done this a thousand times—which, in truth, she nearly had. But beside her, Fleur looked thoroughly out of place. Her long dress with blue robes flowed like a ripple of moonlight, and her platinum-blonde hair glimmered under the grey English sky. Several passersby did a double take.
"Eira," Fleur whispered nervously, pulling at her sleeve. "Are we… are we allowed to be here like this?"
Eira smiled gently, pulling Fleur toward a nearby boutique. "Not in these clothes, no. We'd draw too much attention. But don't worry—I've got it all planned."
They entered the shop, where soft music played and mannequins posed elegantly behind glass. A Muggle salesgirl looked up and beamed at them. "Welcome! Looking for anything special today?"
"Something casual but classy," Eira answered, leading Fleur deeper into the shop.
Half an hour later, they emerged from the boutique transformed. Eira wore a cream linen blouse tucked into wide-legged black trousers with soft loafers, her hair tied back with a velvet ribbon. Fleur, after much gentle coaching, had traded her robe for a pale lavender sundress and a light wool cardigan, paired with flats that sparkled slightly when she walked.
Fleur looked down at herself, marveling. "It feels strange… like I'm not even me."
"You look beautiful," Eira said honestly, smoothing a lock of hair behind Fleur's ear. "Now come on. We're not finished yet."
They walked along the river, crossed bridges, passed flower stalls and buskers and families. Fleur couldn't stop looking at everything—traffic lights, pigeons, advertisements on double-decker buses.
"I still can't believe Muggles live like this it's my second time I visiting a muggle city it still amazes me.," she said in awe. "There are no charms keeping the tea warm, no flying carpets, no floating lanterns—but it all works."
"They've built their world in their own way," Eira replied with a soft smile. "It's not lesser—just different. Sometimes, it's even more beautiful because of the effort behind it. And I'm sure that in the next few decades, their technology will advance so much that it might even surpass magic."
A black cab pulled up beside the curb as Eira waved it down. Fleur jolted. "Wait! That's a car, right? Are we really going to sit inside that thing?"
Eira laughed. "Yes. That 'thing' is a taxi. It takes people places for money. You'll love it."
"But it has no Thestrals, no magic! How does it move?"
"It's got wheels, an engine, and very stubborn drivers, come on I sure you have heard about Cars" Eira replied, nudging her inside.
They sat side by side in the back of the cab. Fleur clutched the seat with wide eyes as the vehicle pulled into traffic.
"I feel like I'm flying—but in a box. A loud, heavy, grounded box!" Fleur exclaimed. "It's nothing like the Knight Bus. That thing was downright uncomfortable. I used it once, and I've regretted it to this day."
Eira giggled, watching her friend's astonished face. "Welcome to the Muggle world, Fleur."
The cab dropped them off outside a high-end restaurant nestled in a quiet corner of the city. Its windows glowed golden, and ivy clung to the brick exterior. Inside, it was all dim lighting, soft jazz, and the clink of fine silverware.
They took a window table overlooking a quaint garden courtyard. A waiter brought menus—Eira read hers with ease, while Fleur blinked at the unfamiliar words.
"I don't even know how to pronounce half of this," Fleur muttered. "What's… gnocchi?"
"It's delicious," Eira replied, her eyes sparkling. "Soft potato dumplings. Try it."
Fleur looked suspicious. "It doesn't sound delicious."
They both laughed, drawing a glance from a nearby table.
Their food arrived—creamy mushroom risotto for Eira, pan-seared salmon for Fleur—and with it, a comfortable warmth settled between them. As they sipped chilled lemonade and watched the soft rain begin to fall outside, Fleur leaned back in her chair and sighed.
"You know," she said quietly, "this may be one of the most peaceful days I've ever had."
Eira smiled. "That's the charm of it. No owls. No wand using . No school drama. Just the simple life of being a muggle ,with a lovely meal, and a world that doesn't know a single thing about who we are."
"I think I like that but it's still very much boring without being able to use magic ," Fleur said.
After the meal, they strolled hand-in-hand through a nearby square, past twinkling shopfronts and street musicians playing violins under umbrellas. They found a small gelato cart and ordered scoops—vanilla for Eira, raspberry sorbet for Fleur.
As they sat on a bench, watching the sun begin to set behind the chimneys and spires of London, Fleur licked her cone with surprising delight.
"This is cold. But sweet. It's quite delicious and different from magical ice cream ."
"It's just ice cream, Fleur—without any magical ingredients. But this ice cream is the result of centuries of effort from different cultures. That's why it tastes so good."
"Ice cream?" She blinked. "Well, at least Muggles have a certain elegance to their taste. I think I love that."
They both burst into laughter.
When their laughter faded, Eira turned to her and said softly, "I'm glad we did this. It's was good and fun experience "
Fleur's eyes shimmered in the fading light. "Yes I think we should go to France muggle world too one day ."
"Of course we should! There are so many beautiful places in France—we'd be missing out if we lived there and never even saw them."