The morning air inside Beauxbâtons was crisp and humming with early spring energy. Pale sunlight streamed through the tall crystal windows of the academy, scattering rainbows across the floor. Somewhere in the distance, enchanted bells chimed the hour, followed immediately by the rush of footsteps and voices as students hurried to their classes.
Eira , bookbag slung over one shoulder and wand tucked neatly into her sleeve, made her way toward the Charms corridor. Her long braid swayed behind her as she walked with purpose—and perhaps a hint of dread.
Today was Charms with Professor Eric Chamberlain.
To say Professor Chamberlain was a character would be putting it far too mildly. He was the sort of teacher who would waltz into a lesson wearing a hat shaped like a duck, or begin class with a joke so terrible you had no choice but to laugh. Eira never quite knew whether to be excited or exhausted in his presence.
"Morning, Eira!"
She turned to see Marin , her womanizer friend and constant chatterbox, bounding up beside her, hair slightly mussed and bag askew. He was grinning from ear to ear.
"Let me guess," she said dryly, "you either burned your breakfast or fell in love again."
"Neither!" Marin gasped in mock offense. "Though thank you for believing in me."
Eira gave him a look. "What is it, then?"
He puffed out his chest, eyes sparkling with pride. "I have a girlfriend now."
"Oh no," Eira muttered.
"Yes! And before you ask, no, it's not just one of those fleeting, tragic hallway crushes. This one's real. We had an actual conversation."
"Wow. A conversation?" Eira replied, voice flat. "That's practically marriage in your world."
Marin ignored her and pressed on. "Her name is Coralie. She's from Bellefeuille House. She's elegant, funny, and—wait for it—she reads poetry."
"I bet she breathes too. What a catch," Eira quipped, rolling her eyes.
"You're just jealous you didn't meet her first," Marin said cheerfully. "I'm telling you, Eira, she's the one. My future wife. You'll see."
Eira shook her head with a fond sigh. "If she puts up with you for more than a week, I'll send her a congratulatory letter personally."
They reached the Charms classroom just as the door flung open on its own, revealing a swirl of colorful streamers floating midair and a loud, jubilant voice announcing:
"Welcome, my darling young spell-slingers! Come in, come in! Today, we defy gravity—literally!"
Professor Eric Chamberlain, tall and wiry with wild chestnut curls and spectacles always one sneeze away from flying off his nose, stood in front of the class. He wore a cloak that shimmered like spilled ink and a tie embroidered with tiny dancing cauldrons. As usual, his enthusiasm crackled like static in the air.
"Today," he declared with theatrical flair, "we shall conquer the charm that has humbled more first-years than any other: Wingardium Leviosa!"
He waved his wand and a dozen white feathers soared from a box in the corner, floating gently onto each student's desk like snowflakes.
"Ah, yes," he added, pacing dramatically, "the classic levitation charm. A spell of elegance, finesse, and—dare I say—panache!"
Some students giggled. Marin whispered, "He reminds me of a caffeinated swan."
Professor Chamberlain clapped his hands. "Now then! Wands out, please. The movement is simple: a gentle swish, followed by a flick. Not a jab, not a poke, and certainly not whatever that motion was last week, Mr. Desrosiers—this isn't fencing!"
Laughter rippled through the room.
Eira took out her wand and studied the feather on her desk. It looked perfectly ordinary, though she knew very well the challenge lay not in the feather, but in her control of the charm even though she had a genius level in charms but always the first cast of the spell is the hardest .
"Remember!" Chamberlain called, raising a finger like a conductor, "It's Wingardium Levi-o-sa, not Leviosaaa, not Levia-something-or-other. Pronunciation matters!"
He strode to the blackboard and with a tap of his wand, the instructions appeared in glowing script:
Swish and flick. Clear intention. Correct pronunciation. Focus on lightness.
Eira straightened her shoulders and took a breath. Swish, flick. "Wingardium Leviosa," she murmured.
The feather wobbled.
She narrowed her eyes. Again—swish, flick. "Wingardium Leviosa."
This time, the feather rose an inch, hovered, then flopped with her control onto the desk.
Progress.
Marin, meanwhile, was grinning smugly as his feather lifted into the air like a ballerina. "Did you see that? Look at that grace. That poise. Just like Coralie!"
"Please don't compare your feather to your girlfriend," Eira said, deadpan.
"Fiancée, actually," Marin replied, grinning. "In my heart."
Professor Chamberlain strolled past, pausing at their table. He watched Eira's attempt, then clapped his hands.
"Miss White! Very nice you are nearly mastering it ! You've got the pronunciation just right. Try channeling your magic toward the idea of lightness, not just motion. Imagine the feather wanting to rise even higher and elegantly around your table with your wand."
Eira nodded, focused, and tried once more.
Swish. Flick. "Wingardium Leviosa."
The feather lifted.
this time it was smoother then her previous attempt , it floated gently into the air, hovering like a lazy cloud. She blinked, surprised, then allowed herself a small, triumphant smile.
Professor Chamberlain gave a joyful shout. "Ah-ha! Marvelous! There it is! You've just cast your first proper levitation charm. Hold for applause—no, really, class, applause please!, One Star ⭐️ for Ombrelune for masterful performance in first attempt at learning."
The students clapped enthusiastically. Eira gave a slight bow, cheeks flushed, but her eyes were lit with pride.
Marin leaned toward her and whispered, "You know, if this whole heir-of-an-ancient-house thing doesn't work out, you could always join the circus. Feather-lifting extraordinaire."
Eira gave him a shove. "Save the charm for your poetry-reading girlfriend."
He grinned. "I will. In fact, I'm going to write her a sonnet about floating feathers and fated meetings."
"You're impossible."
"I prefer 'romantically delusional.'"
The rest of the class passed in fits of laughter, swirls of floating feathers, and Chamberlain's dramatic storytelling about the time he tried to levitate a watermelon and instead launched it into a minister's hat. As the bell rang, signaling the end of the lesson, the students gathered their things, still giggling and chattering.
As they walked out into the corridor, Eira glanced at Marin. "You're really serious about this girl, huh?"
He nodded. "I am. I don't know what it is, Eira. It's like… when she talks, I want to listen. Like her words pull magic from the air."
Eira paused. "Well… if she sees the same spark in you, maybe you're not completely doomed."
Marin looked at her sideways. "Was that a compliment?"
"Don't get used to it."
The two friends laughed, their steps echoing off the sunlit walls as they made their way down the corridor, towards the Ombrelune's Garden .