After bidding farewell to her grandfather, Eira returned to Beauxbâtons just as twilight settled over the horizon. The sky was painted in deep lavender and gold, and the cool evening air whispered through the ivy-draped archways of the château. She made her way quietly through the halls, her thoughts still lingering on the meeting at the Ministry. It had been a long day, and all she wanted now was to change into something comfortable and rest.
As she stepped into her dormitory in Ombrelune Dorm Hall , she was surprised to find a small box resting neatly on her bed. Curious, Eira approached and untied the silver ribbon that sealed it. Inside lay a single, well-bound book with a smooth, forest-green cover. Its title was embossed in delicate golden script: Animagus: The Ancient Art of Transformation.
A slow smile spread across Eira's face. She didn't need to guess who had sent it. "Lolly," she whispered fondly, tracing her fingers along the cover. With barely-contained excitement, she sat down on the edge of her bed and began to flip through the pages.
Within minutes, she was completely absorbed. The book detailed the rigorous and secretive path of becoming an Animagus, and right at the beginning was the first critical step: keeping a mandrake leaf under one's tongue for a full lunar cycle. Eira blinked, sitting back. That would mean she'd need a fresh mandrake leaf—and soon, since the next full moon was just hours away.
She closed the book gently, her mind already forming a plan. She'd have to pay a visit to Professor Lioré, the school's gentle yet eccentric master of Magical Botany. Perhaps, if she was persuasive enough, he would allow her one mandrake leaf.
Resolved, Eira changed into her soft, dark-blue pajamas, took a warm shower, and curled beneath her quilt with the Animagus book resting beside her on the pillow. As the moonlight spilled through the tall window, she drifted into a peaceful sleep, her dreams already filled with leaves, fur, feathers—and magic.
⸻
The next morning, after her transfiguration class ended, Eira made her way through the winding corridors of the château toward the Beauxbâtons Botanical Gardens. This hidden sanctuary of magical flora was both beautiful and dangerous—a living encyclopedia of rare and exotic plants, tended meticulously by a small team of specialists under Professor Lioré's watchful eye.
The professor's office was nestled in a warm greenhouse, surrounded by climbing vines and softly glowing moss. Eira paused outside the door and knocked gently.
"Come in," came the professor's mild voice from within.
Eira stepped inside and found Professor Lioré hunched over a peculiar plant in bloom. Its petals shimmered with soft pastels, shifting slowly from one hue to another.
"Ah," the professor said without looking up. "You see this plant here, Miss White? It's one of the rarest in the world. There are precisely seventy-one of them left alive—this one being the seventy-first. We've only recently managed to cultivate a new one, after decades of failure."
He turned to face her, his eyes twinkling behind his round spectacles. "It's often called the Fleur des Émotions—the Flower of Emotions. It changes color in response to the feelings of the person standing nearby. In ancient times, this flower was used to detect deception, corruption, even dark magic. Wizards once believed it could lay bare the soul."
Eira leaned in, mesmerized.
"One legend says it was a gift from the Queen of Fairies to Merlin himself—given out of love, no less. But Merlin, being a man of discipline and spirit, rejected her affections. So, in sorrow—or perhaps revenge—she left this flower behind, born of the Fairy Realm."
Lioré chuckled softly. "Of course, another tale claims the flower sprang from the earth when Merlin was enchanted and trapped by the Lady of the Lake—Viviane, or Nimue, depending on which version you favor. The flower, they say, captured the swirl of his emotions in that final moment. Whatever the truth, its magic remains."
Eira smiled. "It's a beautiful story, Professor. Not just a story—it's history woven into myth. Thank you for sharing it. You won't find that in any textbook."
The professor nodded approvingly. "A rare attitude in a student. Curiosity is a precious thing."
He dusted off his hands and finally asked, "So then, Miss White, to what do I owe this visit? Surely not just to listen to an old man muse about fairy stories."
Eira hesitated for a moment, then straightened her shoulders. "Actually, Professor, I came to ask if I might have a mandrake leaf. Just one. I—I'm interested in studying its properties, independently."
At that, Professor Lioré raised an eyebrow. "Mandrake? Hm. You do know we don't cover mandrakes until second year, yes? They're not part of your curriculum yet."
"I understand that," Eira said quickly. "But I've read about them and I'd really like to learn more—on my own."
He studied her for a long moment, clearly not buying her thin excuse. Still, something in her earnest expression seemed to sway him.
"Well then," he said at last, gesturing to a tall cabinet on the far wall. "If you truly know what you're looking for, the box is in there—second shelf, beneath the stasis glass. If you can find the correct leaf, it's yours."
Eira gave a quick bow and hurried to the cabinet. Inside were neatly organized containers filled with labeled leaves and herbs. It didn't take her long. She recognized the distinctive pale-green, wrinkled texture of the mandrake leaf immediately and retrieved it with care.
Turning back, she presented it to Professor Lioré.
He gave a soft hum of approval. "You've chosen correctly. Very well—you may keep it. But I must warn you: while the mandrake leaf isn't toxic in and of itself, it can become dangerous if added to certain potions or food. In the wrong hands, it can be fatal."
"I understand," Eira said, tucking the leaf carefully into a silk pouch. "Thank you for the warning, Professor. I promise I'll be careful—and responsible."
Lioré nodded. "Good. Curiosity should never outweigh caution."
With another polite bow, Eira left the office, her heart lighter than it had been in days. As she stepped into the sunlight filtering through the glass dome of the greenhouse, she allowed herself a quiet smile.
"I've got it," she whispered. "Just in time."
She knew she could've written to Lolly and asked her to acquire one, but that would've taken too long—and this couldn't wait. Tonight was the full moon. And tonight, the journey would begin.
She returned to her dormitory with purpose in her stride, the pouch tucked close to her chest. Everything was ready now. All that remained was the ritual—and the courage to see it through.