It was a quiet weekend afternoon at Beauxbâtons, and the Ombrelune Hall was hushed with the soft rustle of pages and the distant chime of enchanted clocks. Eira sat alone at one of the long, glassy tables, idly flipping through a worn volume while sipping a cup of honey-sweetened tea. The winter sun filtered gently through the tall windows, casting long silver beams across the floor.
She looked up when she heard footsteps—familiar ones.
Fleur Delacour approached with a light smile and an elegant toss of her silvery hair. "How are you these days, Eira? You've been looking quite busy."
Eira smiled faintly, setting her book aside. "I could say the same about you. You've been buried in OWLs prep lately—I figured it was best not to disturb you."
Fleur gave a sheepish laugh. "You're not wrong. I've been drowning in Arithmancy and Defense essays. But today, no books. Come, I'm taking you somewhere fun."
Eira arched a brow. "Where to?"
"Somewhere I think you'll enjoy," Fleur replied cryptically, already turning toward the exit.
As they walked down the marble corridors, Eira fell in step beside her. "We're not going outside the school again, are we? Like last semester?"
Fleur shook her head. "No, no. Still within the grounds this time."
"Oh—by the way," Fleur added after a pause, "I heard Marin got beaten up by some seniors."
Eira's expression darkened slightly. "Yes. They roughed him up pretty badly. He was alone when it happened."
"Good," Fleur said with a shrug, completely unbothered. "I warned him—told him to stop flirting with every girl he laid eyes on. He ignored me, and you, too. Now he's learned a lesson."
Eira snorted. "You won't believe what he said when I went to visit him."
"Let me guess," Fleur said with a smirk. "He was crying, swearing he'd change his ways?"
"I wish," Eira muttered. "He actually said he's now more determined than ever to go after their girlfriends. Said if they're going to beat him, he might as well make it worth the trouble."
Fleur groaned, rubbing her temples. "He really is a shameless son of a wand."
The two of them exited the château and strolled through the snow-covered gardens, their boots crunching softly on the frozen path. Eventually, they came to a structure nestled near the forest's edge—one that Eira had passed many times before without much thought. It looked like a modest building from the outside, plain and unremarkable, dusted with winter frost which was quite unusual for the school's style.
But the moment they stepped inside, Eira's breath caught in her throat.
They stood at the edge of a colossal arena, gleaming under high enchanted ceilings. The floors were marble, polished to a mirror shine, and long rows of stone benches stretched along the outer walls—seating enough for thousands. It resembled a gladiatorial arena from ancient history, but elegant and touched by magic. In the middle of the arena, a group of students stood gathered in small dueling circles, wands drawn and ready.
Eira stared in disbelief. "I've passed by this place… even flown over it in my Animagus form. But I've never seen anything like this."
Fleur chuckled. "There are two reasons for that. First, this arena is enchanted with spatial magic—by none other than Sir Nicolas Flamel. From the outside, it looks small. Step inside, and the enchantment unfolds."
Eira nodded slowly, still drinking it in.
"And second," Fleur continued, "this arena is restricted. Only third-years and above can enter—and even then, only in the company of a senior. You wouldn't have been allowed in before."
"But why keep it secret?" Eira asked, eyes narrowing. "Wouldn't it benefit younger students to watch, even if they can't participate? And I've never heard a word about it from the older students."
"That's intentional," Fleur said. "Most seniors don't care for dueling—at least not officially. When conflicts arise, they don't want the professors to know. A duel in here can settle things discreetly. But when younger students used to be allowed, things got… ugly. Older students would 'train' or 'play' with them under the pretense of helping, but it often turned into bullying. There were serious injuries. So now, the rule is firm: no one under third year, unless given special permission."
Eira raised a brow. "So why did you bring me here?"
Fleur's eyes sparkled with mischief. "Madame Maxime made an exception for you. She said you've proven yourself capable—especially after last semester's little incident with those boys. She thinks you can handle yourself. So, here you are."
Eira smirked. "Well… thanks, I suppose. For showing me this place."
Fleur folded her arms and smiled. "Think of it as your invitation to a more… spirited side of Beauxbâtons."