The next morning unfolded gently across the gardens of Beauxbâtons. A silver mist still clung to the leaves, casting a soft shimmer over the dew-kissed grounds. The breeze was mild and sweet, carrying with it the scent of lavender, moss, and something faintly floral—something magical.
Eira stirred early. The dorm was hushed, draped in the soft stillness that only early morning brought. After a warm shower that chased away the remnants of sleep, she slipped into her sky-blue Beauxbâtons robes, brushed her hair until it shone.
Eira stepped out of her dorm and made her way down to the Ombrelune dining hall for breakfast. As she descended the stairs, she scanned the crowd for familiar faces—and then she spotted her.
At the Hall near the dining table, Ana was already sitting, buttering a croissant. Her dark hair was pinned half-up, and her uniform was neat as always. She glanced up as Eira approached and offered a warm smile.
"Bonjour," Ana greeted softly.
Eira returned the smile, sitting beside her. "Morning, Ana. Did you sleep well?"
"Like a cat in a sunbeam," Ana replied, eyes twinkling. "You?"
"Not bad. Had a strange dream about swimming in stardust," Eira said with a little laugh. "Still processing."
The two chatted softly over their breakfast—fresh raspberries, hot chocolate, delicate crepes drizzled with honey. They talked about their dorms, about Eira's trip to England and Ana who seemed to quite intrigued by stories that Eira was telling her.
Soon, an enchanted parchment unrolled at the center of each table, listing the day's classes in elegant ink. Eira and Ana both leaned in to look.
"Oh," Ana said, her voice bright with interest, "we have Botanique Magique this morning!"
"With Professor Lioré," Eira added, recognizing the name. "I've heard he's lovely. Apparently, he used to work in magical gardens all across Europe. There's even a rumor that he oversees part of the world's largest and most famous garden—called Heaven. They say magical fairies tend to every flower, tree, and fruit there, including plants that are impossible to find anywhere outside of Heaven."
"He's supposed to be one of the top botanical alchemists in France then of course he will be working there ," Ana said.
"I'm glad it's not potions first again," Eira muttered, remembering the the assignment that the professor had given to them and she still hadn't finished it .
They both giggled and stood to leave. Marin, who had just arrived with his hair slightly tousled and a daisy tucked behind his ear, caught up to them.
"Magical plants today!" he said brightly, clearly in his element. "I've been waiting for this all week."
"It's only our fifth day of our classes ," Ana teased.
"Exactly. That's what I mean."
⸻
The Greenhouse of Miracles
The class was held just beyond the orchard, where an enormous greenhouse stretched like a glass cathedral. Vines curled along its arches, and the scent of earth and blossoms greeted the students as they stepped through the doors.
Inside, warmth enveloped them. Magical sunlight poured through enchantments woven into the glass above, keeping the temperature perfect. Rows upon rows of glowing, whispering, pulsing plants surrounded them. Some hummed gently. Others swayed in no breeze at all.
"Welcome, everyone," came a calm, melodious voice.
Professor Lioré stood at the center of the greenhouse. He was a tall man in his late forties, with a mane of silver-blond hair and gentle brown eyes. His robe was embroidered with patterns of ivy and moonflower, and his presence radiated patience and warmth.
He gestured for the students to gather around a large, raised stone planter in the center.
"You are now standing in one of the most sacred places on Beauxbâtons ground," he began. "This greenhouse is older than even the château itself. Here, we study not only the magic of plants, but their soul."
There was a quiet murmur among the students.
"Today," Professor Lioré continued, "I will introduce you to a flower that you will only find in one place in the entire world—right here, in this valley. This flower has existed since the founding of Beauxbâtons, and perhaps even before. It is called the Fleur de Lune."
He stepped aside. A shimmer of light pulsed from the soil, and slowly, from within the stone planter, the flower began to bloom.
Gasps rippled through the class.
It was unlike anything they had ever seen.
The Fleur de Lune stood tall on a slender, silver stem. Its petals were wide and translucent, glowing softly with a pale blue light. At its heart shimmered something like a pearl, but it shifted colors faintly—lavender, moonstone, rose. The scent it released was faint and sweet, and somehow nostalgic.
"It's like… a memory," Eira whispered.
Professor Lioré smiled. "Very good. The Fleur de Lune is a memory flower. It reacts to emotion and echoes the essence of the one who cares for it."
The students leaned closer. Even Ana looked awed.
"It blooms only in this valley because of the unique magical ley lines that flow beneath Beauxbâtons. The soil, the starlight here, the ancient enchantments—they all nourish it. It cannot grow anywhere else."
Marin was practically glowing with excitement. "I read about it in a botanical compendium once, but I thought it was a legend!"
"It is very real," Professor Lioré chuckled. "And very rare. The last time a Fleur de Lune was sold, it went for over five hundred thousand galleons."
Eira's eyes widened. "That much?"
Marin nodded beside her, almost breathless. "It's the most expensive flower in the magical world. I always dreamed of having one. My great-grandmother once saw one in her youth and described it to me—it's what made me fall in love with magical plants."
He looked at the flower with something close to reverence.
"I wanted one for my family garden," Marin continued, "but… well, that's impossible. Unless I marry into French wizard royalty or get adopted by a botanical queen."
Eira grinned. "Well, don't give up hope."
Professor Lioré gently interrupted their whispering. "The Fleur de Lune must be approached not with desire, but with empathy. It listens, in its own way. Now—who would like to try?"
Many hands went up, but the professor selected a few students. Marin was among them.
As he stepped forward and knelt by the flower, the petals slowly turned a deeper shade of lavender. The glowing heart pulsed warmly.
"Oh," Marin breathed.
"It likes you," Ana whispered.
After a few moments, Professor Lioré had the students return to their spots.
"You will not be allowed to take cuttings of the Fleur de Lune, nor grow it yourself. But you will each receive a seed of a magical plant that resonates with you—something you will care for this year. Think of it as a familiar. Some of you may even discover your wand's alignment through it."
He waved his wand, and a tray floated toward them, carrying dozens of small, intricately carved seed boxes. Each one had a different glow, hum, or scent.
One by one, the students stepped forward and selected a box that called to them. When Eira approached, she looked first then reached for one at the very edge. It was a small box made of moonstone wood, cool to the touch. Inside was a silvery seed with faint blue veins running through it.
Ana's was nestled in a box that smelled faintly of cinnamon and pine. Marin's glowed faintly green and shimmered like a tiny crystal heart.
"Keep them close," said Professor Lioré. "You will name them, nurture them, and, if you are attentive, they may even bloom for you."
⸻
The rest of the lesson was spent learning how to feel plant energy. Professor Lioré guided them through silent meditations, asking them to place their hands near the soil, close their eyes, and listen—not with their ears, but their presence.
Eira had never tried anything like it. She kept her palms above the soil and breathed deeply. At first, there was only silence.
Then she felt it—a subtle hum, like the low echo of a cello string. The plant wasn't speaking in words, but it was… alive.
Afterward, the professor had them gently water young moonleaf stalks and practice speaking kindly to the plants.
"They respond to your voice, your intent. Some even to music. Plants are alive, yes—but magical plants are listeners," he said, "and partners."
⸻
After Class
As they stepped out of the greenhouse into the golden late morning sun, Marin was still clutching his seed box close to his chest.
"I'll name it Florynce," he declared.
"You've already named yours?" Eira laughed.
"Of course. It's going to grow into the most fabulous thing you've ever seen."
Ana smiled. "You really love this, don't you?"
"I do," he said seriously. "I know some people love dragons or spells or dueling. But for me, it's this. Flowers. They don't fight. They don't conquer. They just grow, and they bloom."
Eira glanced back at the greenhouse, still glowing faintly behind them.It was yet another beautiful experience for her here .