Two days had passed since the last exam, and the atmosphere at Beauxbatons Academy had transformed from one of intense concentration to a glowing buzz of anticipation. The entire student body was invited to gather in the Grand Star Hall—an ethereal chamber of polished marble and floating silver constellations that shimmered gently above like a living sky. All three houses—Bellefeuille, Papillonlisse, and Ombrelune—had taken their places at their long, ornate tables, the colors of their banners hanging proudly overhead.
Madame Maxime stood at the podium at the front of the hall, tall and commanding in her elegantly embroidered robes. Her gaze swept over the students with a gleam of pride in her eyes, and when she raised her hand, silence fell like a charm.
"I am delighted," she began, her voice calm but filled with warmth, "to see so many bright faces here at the end of what has been a fulfilling and elegant school year."
She paused as murmurs and a few polite claps filled the space.
"You have studied with diligence—well, most of you," she added with a knowing smirk, drawing a few chuckles. "You have upheld the ideals that our great founder, Madame Perenelle Flamel, envisioned for this institution. I have no doubt that she would be proud of what Beauxbatons has become—and proud of what you will become in the future."
Eira, seated at the Ombrelune table beside Marin, listened attentively. The flickering starlight above shimmered softly against her white hair.
"Now that we are on the verge of summer holidays," Madame Maxime continued, "you will be escorted home this afternoon. But before that, I must address our first-year students."
Her expression grew a shade more serious.
"You will receive a contract today from the French Ministry of Magic. This document is to ensure that no underage witch or wizard uses magic outside of sanctioned magical locations. If you do so, the Ministry will detect it immediately—and while they will come to assist you, they will investigate. If it's found that the spell was cast knowingly or in front of Muggles… then you may face severe consequences, including expulsion from Beauxbatons."
Several younger students visibly tensed. Eira caught the glance of a first-year Ombrelune girl biting her lip nervously. She gave her an encouraging smile.
"Your grades," Madame Maxime went on, "will be sent to your homes during the summer holidays—yes, to your parents."
Groans and sighs rippled through the hall. Even some smart students winced slightly. Marin muttered, "Guess I'll be murdered before second year," and Eira rolled her eyes.
With a smile tugging at the corner of her lips, Madame Maxime raised her hand again.
"And now," she declared, "we announce the house who will perform the farewell dance, as is our tradition. We began the year with dance, and we end it with one."
Tension hung in the air for a moment.
"This year, Bellefeuille House has earned the honor, with 348 stars awarded for academic, creative, and extracurricular achievements."
The Bellefeuille table erupted in cheers and applause, the seniors high-fiving and laughing in triumph. Other tables showed mixed reactions—claps, polite nods, a few bitter sighs from Papillonlisse students who had been hoping for their moment.
"Before the performance," Maxime added, "we shall eat."
As if on cue, the great doors of the Star Hall swung open. Dozens of floating trays and carts glided in gracefully, laden with beautifully arranged dishes. The food set itself on the tables before each student—beef à la bourguignonne, warm baguettes, golden pommes dauphines, platters of fresh cheeses, and glasses of sparkling fruitwater.
Conversation returned in a rush. Marin leaned closer to Eira and nudged her with a grin.
"So," he said, his voice full of mischief, "what are your grand plans for the summer? How about helping me run the bookstore? We can sell books, help my mum, maybe charm a few customers…"
Eira lifted an eyebrow. "I'm not sure. If I have the chance, I might visit. I do have quite a few things to discuss with your mother."
Marin's face stiffened instantly. "Actually, um—we're going to Italy! Yes, me and my mother. Urgent…vacation."
Eira narrowed her eyes. "Oh, don't worry. I will visit. I have to tell her all about her darling son's escapades this year. I'm sure you won't."
"Eira, please. Have mercy."
She smirked and returned to her food.
Dessert followed shortly after, and Eira picked out a dish of mango-flavored ice cream, savoring the creamy sweetness. As the room quieted again, three students stepped onto the raised stage at the front, each with magical instruments—an enchanted violin, a floating harp, and a crystalline flute. A gentle melody filled the space, one that shimmered like moonlight.
Then the Bellefeuille senior students entered in pairs, dressed in stunning silken robes reminiscent of swans and doves. They began to dance—graceful, synchronized, and mesmerizing. With their wands, they summoned illusions behind them: glowing flowers, drifting feathers, scenes of rolling hills and twilight skies that enhanced the elegance of their performance.
The entire hall watched, enchanted. The dancers moved with dignity and ease, twirling and lifting in near-perfect harmony. It was more than a performance; it was a farewell, a blessing, and a promise wrapped into one final display of artistry.
When the music ended and the last illusion dissolved into stardust, the hall burst into applause. Even Madame Maxime clapped proudly as she returned to the podium.
"Merci, Bellefeuille House. A most beautiful performance."
Her tone became businesslike once more.
"Now, a final reminder: Do not use magic outside of magical spaces. You all know this—but some of you still forget. I don't want to see anyone attempting to levitate their suitcases across Paris."
Laughter echoed across the room.
"Lastly, remember to take all your belongings. I do not want to receive owls requesting permission to retrieve forgotten brooms or undergarments."
That earned an eruption of giggles. Eira couldn't help but smile.
"You are dismissed now. Your families await. May your summer be safe, restful, and bright. Bonnes vacances à tous."
The students began standing up, chairs scraping gently as bags and hats were gathered. Marin walked beside Eira toward the exit, still chattering.
"Do you know how many letters I have to write this summer? At least 30. Maybe more. You wouldn't believe how high expectations get when you're this charming."
Eira gave him a dry look. "Well, you brought that on yourself. Don't ignore any of them—or I promise, they'll skin you alive next term."
Marin winced dramatically. "Cruel world."
They parted outside the Star Hall. Eira gave him a final wave and turned toward the Ombrelune Dorm Hall . Back in her dormitory, she began packing. Her textbooks, notebooks, robes, and personal things all went neatly into her magical pouch. She took a final look around—at the soft blue curtains, the empty beds, the moonlit window—and smiled quietly.
With one last breath of the place she had called home for the year, she stepped out, her wandlight gently guiding her down the staircase toward the next chapter of her journey.