It was midnight.
A figure cloaked in darkness stepped silently out of the Ombrelune dormitory hall. The school was asleep, the halls dim and quiet, but Eira moved like a ghost—silent and purposeful—as she crossed the stone corridor and slipped into the Ombrelune garden.
Cool night air met her skin, carrying the scent of grass, night-blooming flowers, and ancient stone. The moon hung full and luminous above the garden, casting silver light across the fountains and hedges. Eira walked with measured steps toward the pond that rested in the center of the garden like a glass eye under the moonlight.
She paused at its edge.
The surface of the pond shimmered, reflecting the moon like a polished mirror. As she looked into it, a memory rose to the surface of her mind—unbidden, heavy. A dark-haired girl, young, tear-streaked, missing her left hand. Crying.
Ana.
Eira sat down slowly on the grass, folding her arms around her knees. Her eyes remained fixed on the water, though her thoughts were drifting far beyond it.
"Where are you now, Ana?" she murmured softly. "If my grandfather had found you… I would have known. So where are you hiding?"
She let out a sigh, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. "I hope you're still alive. Because I have so much to say to you. And one day—one day, I will find you again, one day you will come to face me the friend that you betrayed and abandoned . That much I'm certain of."
She tilted her head to the sky, letting the full moonlight wash over her face. Then, reaching into her robe, she retrieved the small pouch containing the precious mandrake leaf. With a deep breath, she placed the leaf under her tongue, the bitter taste instantly blooming across her mouth.
She closed her eyes and whispered the four sacred words of the ritual:
"Amidu. Amigu. Ameno. Amigui."
A jolt of magical energy sparked through her tongue—sharp, like a current—and her eyes flew open. She exhaled slowly.
It had begun.
Eira gave a faint, satisfied smile. "Let's hope I don't mess this up," she whispered, watching her breath freshen with magic . The wind stirred her hair gently as she sat there, thinking—not only of the ritual, but of everything else.
Should she stay at Beauxbâtons?
She had grown attached to this place. The elegant castle, the dreamlike gardens, her professors, her friends. The rhythm of life here was strange but comforting, and though she was far from home, she was finally starting to feel like she belonged.
Still, the question remained. What if her grandfather asked her to return to Britain?
She sighed and rose to her feet. "Let's see what Grandfather decides. If I can stay, I will. If not… I'll go back."
Eira slipped quietly back into the dormitory and returned to her room, where she lay down, her thoughts still swirling. The mandrake leaf was bitter and uncomfortable, but she endured it. There was no turning back now.
⸻
From that night forward, each morning Eira whispered the same four words:
Amidu. Amigu. Ameno. Amigui.
She never missed a day.
To avoid dislodging the leaf, she changed her diet. She could no longer eat anything chewy or hard. Most of her meals became soup—broths, stews, soft purees. Her classmates began to notice, of course. But thankfully, her subtle British-French accent gave her cover.
When someone commented on the odd way she now spoke, she would simply shrug and say, "I'm practicing my French pronunciation."
Most believed her.
Well—most.
One day, Marin squinted at her across the breakfast table and grimaced. "Please don't speak like that, Eira. It's… frankly, it makes you sound like a cursed frog. You're prettier when you're silent."
Eira narrowed her eyes and retorted, "You don't have to care about me. Where's your little girlfriend, by the way?"
Marin slumped dramatically in his seat. "We broke up."
Eira gave him a look. "Why am I not surprised? Let me guess—you flirted with someone again?"
"She was too sensitive!" Marin whined. "I just talked to a senior's sister and she started crying."
Eira rolled her eyes. "So it's your fault. Again. You probably weren't 'talking'—you were being your usual charming, flirtatious disaster. Do you even know how to have a normal conversation with a girl?"
Marin clutched his chest in mock offense. "Oh, you wound me! How could you say that?"
"Please," Eira said dryly. "After your mother, I probably know you better than anyone. Drop the act. And next time, don't break someone's heart unless you plan to commit."
Marin pouted. "Why do you sound like my mum?"
"Because clearly, someone has to."
And with that, she got up and left him behind in the dining hall.
⸻
Time passed, and Eira's secret became harder to keep. One afternoon, during a brief walk in the garden , Fleur fixed her with a suspicious stare.
"I know you're lying," she said flatly. "You've been eating nothing but soup, your voice is strange, and you've grown thinner. Tell me the truth. Are you sick?"
Eira hesitated, then gave in with a sigh. "I'll tell you—but you have to promise not to say a word to anyone."
Fleur folded her arms. "When have I ever told anyone your secrets?"
Eira gave her a wry smile. "Good point." Then, after a moment's pause, she said, "I'm practicing the Animagus ritual."
Fleur's eyes widened in horror. "You're what?"
"I'm training to become an Animagus," Eira repeated calmly.
"Are you insane?" Fleur cried. "Do you even know how difficult—how dangerous—that is? If the transformation goes wrong, your body could explode! Or you could end up stuck between forms—half-human, half-beast! Do you want to become a chimera?"
Eira grinned and shook her head. "Relax. I'm not stupid. I know what I'm doing. And I'm already too far in to stop now."
Fleur glared at her. "If you become some grotesque animal hybrid, I swear I won't be your friend anymore."
"You'd miss me too much," Eira said with a smirk, giving Fleur a playful nudge on the shoulder.
Fleur rolled her eyes. "Fine. But promise me one thing—when it's time to complete the final ritual, tell me. I want to be there, just in case something goes wrong."
"I will. I promise , And don't tell Madame Maxime."
"I wasn't planning to."
"Good."
" how did you even get a mandrake leaf?"
Eira shrugged. "I asked Professor Lioré."
Fleur raised an eyebrow. "You asked? And he just gave it to you?"
"Well… he made me identify it myself, but yes."
"Then he knows. He must know what you're doing," Fleur muttered. "But if he gave it to you, maybe he thinks you can handle it."
"Exactly."
⸻
As the month passed, Eira remained disciplined, dedicated, and utterly secretive. Each day she repeated the ritual, took care of the leaf, ate softly, and avoided suspicion. Near the end of the cycle, she contacted Lolly and asked for the remaining ingredients.
Lolly sent them by enchanted owl post.
And tonight—tonight would be the night. The final phase of the ritual: the potion will be Brewed under the full moon, and then buried beneath the earth for a week.
If all went well, Eira would be ready.