The midday sun cast shimmering beams of gold through the stained glass windows of the Grand Star Hall at Beauxbâtons, painting the marble floors with stars, swirls, and lilies. Long tables stood polished and gleaming, each representing one of the three great houses of the school: Ombrelune, Papillonlisse, and Bellefeuille. Students were already gathered at their house tables, chatting and laughing, the buzz of anticipation rising like the hum of summer cicadas. It was the final lunch of the school year—the farewell ceremony.
Eira sat between Fleur Delacour and Marin at the Ombrelune's table. Fleur's fingers, as usual, were laced with hers beneath the table, subtle and warm. Marin was dramatically retelling a story about how he almost set his exam parchment on fire during the written portion of the Magical Defense exam. Eira laughed, eyes bright but a little tired after the whirlwind of exam week.
At the head table, Madame Maxime stood slowly, her towering form immediately quieting the room. Her midnight-blue robes shimmered slightly, matching the enchanted ceiling that showed a sky of drifting clouds and soft rays of sunlight.
"Mes chers enfants," she began, her deep voice ringing through the hall, "you have reached the end of another year at Beauxbâtons. And what a year it has been."
A murmur of agreement rippled through the students. Many heads turned toward Eira, the youngest matriarch in centuries, the girl at the center of political storms, duels, and ancient legacies.
"You have studied hard, competed honorably, supported one another, and faced your exams with admirable determination," Maxime continued. "The results of these exams will be delivered to your family homes over the summer holidays. I know many of you are anxious, but let me assure you—you have all made us proud."
Polite applause followed, mingled with a few nervous groans.
"Now," she said, smiling, "I am pleased to announce that this year's winning house, with an impressive 534 earned stars, is… Papillonlisse!"
A roar of cheers erupted from the Papillonlisse table, where students stood clapping and hugging each other. Fleur clapped as well, despite being an Ombrelune, her smile radiant.
"As tradition dictates, the winning house shall present our farewell dance," Maxime said, gesturing grandly.
The tables magically scooted aside, and music began to rise from the unseen orchestra charms built into the walls. The Papillonlisse students gracefully took the floor, their pale blue and gold robes swirling as they performed a perfectly choreographed routine. The dance was a blend of floating, twirling, and light-conjuring steps—at times resembling spellwork in motion. Glowing petals and tiny orbs of golden light floated in the air above them, drawing gasps and applause.
Eira watched with wide, thoughtful eyes. The elegance of the dance was extraordinarily stunning.
"You're staring again," Fleur whispered with a smile, leaning closer.
"I'm allowed to be impressed," Eira whispered back, lips twitching.
Marin huffed beside them. "Hmph. Next year it'll be Ombrelune. I'll personally duel every Papillonlisse student if I have to."
Fleur laughed. "Are we talking about dueling, or charming girls, Marin?"
Marin smirked without missing a beat. "Why not both? I duel and dazzle—equal opportunity chaos."
Eira raised an eyebrow with a playful smirk. "Equal opportunity chaos, huh? I'll give you that—you flirt like it's an art form. Honestly, it's a little unfair how well it works."
Fleur rolled her eyes but couldn't suppress a smirk. "Ugh, Marin, your flirting is unbearable—but somehow, you make it work. It's almost impressive… in a totally annoying way."
Marin feigned shock, clutching his chest dramatically. "Unbearable? I prefer irresistible. But don't worry—I'll keep dazzling you all, whether you like it or not."
As the final note of the dance echoed and the dancers bowed to thunderous applause, Madame Maxime rose once more. The room fell quiet again.
"Thank you, Papillonlisse," she said with genuine warmth. "That was a truly beautiful performance. Now, mes enfants, enjoy your final lunch of the year. Afterward, the Abraxan carriages will be prepared to escort you through your journey ."
With a wave of her wand, the enchanted doors to the kitchens opened, and food began gliding into the hall—dishes steaming and sweet, savory and fresh. Platters floated down to every table, gently setting themselves before the students.
Eira reached for a roasted pear tart as Fleur passed her a pitcher of chilled apple nectar. They ate in comfortable silence for a few moments before Fleur leaned closer again.
"So," Fleur said, brushing a lock of hair behind her ear, "did you survive the Etiquette exam? Or are you emotionally scarred forever?"
Eira groaned theatrically. "Emotionally, spiritually, and physically. I still think Noëlle de Vauclère is secretly an Inferius possessed by the spirit of a porcelain doll."
Fleur giggled so hard she nearly spilled her drink. "Oh, mon dieu, Eira."
"She made me eat a pear with seven different spoons. Seven. And each one had its own function."
"Yes," Marin cut in. "One to threaten your enemies with the sharp edge, one to stir existential dread, and the rest for the pear."
Eira and Fleur both laughed.
"I got a nod from her, though," Eira added more quietly.
Fleur looked at her, head tilted. "That means you aced it."
"I know. But I hated every second of it. That class… it doesn't teach etiquette. It teaches superiority. It makes me sick sometimes."
Fleur placed her hand gently over Eira's beneath the table again, squeezing it. "You survived. And you did perfectly."
"Hmm." Eira glanced around at the other students. Laughter filled the hall now. Plates clinked. Dancers were being congratulated. For a moment, it was almost like everything was… normal.
Marin leaned back in his chair. "So. Summer plans?"
"Chaos," Eira answered flatly.
"Flirting," Fleur added, smirking.
"Hopefully not from you," she said quickly.
Marin just winked.
As the lunch neared its end, the hall slowly began to quiet again. Students finished their desserts, drank their final sips of chilled lemonade and elderflower cordial. Madame Maxime rose one last time.
"It is time," she said gently. "Please return to your dormitories to collect your belongings. Your carriages await. I wish you all a peaceful, restful summer. And remember—magic begins not only in books, but in the kindness you show each other."
The applause this time was quieter, more reflective. Students stood, chairs scraping gently, conversations becoming soft and nostalgic.
Eira stood slowly, glancing at Fleur and Marin.
"Well," she said, brushing invisible dust from her uniform, "we made it."
Fleur beamed at her. "Yes. And we made it together."
As they left the Star Hall behind, the bright sunlight bathed them in warmth, the grass outside whispering in the breeze, and the grand white wings of the waiting Abraxans shimmered beyond the hills.