The summer morning light spilled into the breakfast room of the Paris White Manor, bathing the long table in soft gold. From the open balcony doors drifted the scent of roses, lavender, and the faint hum of the city in the distance. The crystal water pitcher on the table caught the light and refracted it into tiny rainbows across the white linen cloth.
Eira sat at the head of the table — the same seat her late Grandfather had once claimed — and reached for a warm croissant from the silver basket. Its crisp shell flaked under her fingers, revealing a buttery, steaming center. A small plate already held slices of soft brie and a delicate heap of ripe strawberries. Beside her cup, the steam from freshly brewed coffee curled upward in lazy spirals, its aroma cutting through the sweetness of the preserves on her plate.
Near the door, a sleek black hawk perched on the back of an upholstered chair. Its eyes were sharp, its posture regal. It had arrived not ten minutes earlier, the Daily Prophet rolled and bound to its leg with a white silk ribbon. Ordinary owls could never have flown from Britain to France so quickly, but the House of White had bred and trained hawks in past few months to deliver messages across borders — even in poor weather or through minor magical wards. This one had landed without so much as a sound, save the flutter of its powerful wings.
Eira untied the ribbon, set it neatly aside, and spread the folded paper open across the table. The headline took up nearly half the front page in bold enchanted ink.
WHITE FAMILY ACQUIRES HOGWARTS GOVERNOR SEAT
Lucius Malfoy Steps Down, Extending Goodwill to Old Ally
She read in silence, idly breaking off another piece of croissant.
In a surprising yet harmonious development for Hogwarts' Board of Governors, Lord Lucius Malfoy has stepped down from his position, passing the seat to the White family in what has been described as a "gesture of goodwill" between two of Britain's most respected pure-blood houses.
"The Malfoy family has long valued its alliance with House White," a Ministry insider commented, "and the handover reflects mutual respect and the understanding that Hogwarts benefits most when its leadership is strong and united."
No official reason has been given for Lord Malfoy's resignation, though both families have publicly praised each other's dedication to the school's legacy. Malfoy, in his statement, called the transfer "a deliberate and thoughtful choice made for the good of Hogwarts' future."
Eira paused to sip her coffee. The paper was careful — too careful. Not a single whisper of political pressure, no hint of Lucius Malfoy's troubles earlier that year. Just a polished, almost theatrical version of events.
Her eyes moved to the next section.
Lady Eira White, current head of the House of White, will hold the title of Governor of Hogwarts, though day-to-day duties will be represented in Britain by her appointed delegate, Miss Emma Bloom.
"The role is one of responsibility, not ceremony," Miss Bloom told our correspondent. "The Board's decisions affect the entire educational future of British wizarding youth, and the White family intends to contribute to that future with seriousness and purpose."
Eira allowed herself a small smile. Emma's voice came through even in print — precise, diplomatic, and immaculately controlled.
The next paragraph caught her attention.
In their first act as members of the Board, the White family has donated a sum exceeding 20,000 Galleons to Hogwarts — more than the combined annual contributions of the rest of the governors. The funds are to be directed toward a newly established scholarship program for orphaned young witches and wizards, with a particular emphasis on Muggle-born students who lack financial support.
"Talent and magic should never be wasted for lack of means," Miss Bloom stated. "House White will see to it that deserving children, regardless of heritage, receive their education and the opportunities it provides."
Her fingers lingered on that line for a moment. The donation had been her idea — not out of pure sentiment, but as a calculated investment. Orphans, especially Muggle-borns, grew up without the influence of old pure-blood families. Help them early, guide them subtly, and they would remember who had given them their start. Gratitude was a form of loyalty, and loyalty, when cultivated carefully, could last a lifetime.
The article concluded with the expected praise.
The move has been met with approval from the Ministry of Magic, with several senior officials citing the White family's "forward-thinking vision" and "dedication to Hogwarts' excellence." Public reception, particularly among younger families and half-blood communities, has been overwhelmingly positive.
As the summer holidays begin, anticipation grows for the Board's first full meeting with its newest and most influential member.
Eira set the paper down, folding it neatly. She picked up her knife and spread a thin layer of strawberry preserve across the last piece of her croissant, her thoughts cool and deliberate.
The Board of Governors was more than a school oversight committee — it was a table where influence was traded like currency. And now the Whites had a permanent seat. Emma would navigate the politics well enough; she had a talent for smiling while setting pieces into place.
From the balcony came the soft rustle of leaves. The hawk shifted its weight and let out a quiet, low cry, as if reminding her it was still there. Eira rose from her chair, walked to it, and with a small motion of her hand sent it back into the bright Parisian sky. It wheeled once above the gardens before disappearing over the rooftops.
She returned to her seat, took another sip of her coffee, and allowed herself one last thought before turning to the stack of correspondence waiting in her study:
Hogwarts… even without ever setting foot there in this life, she knew its image as if it were etched into her very soul. Memories from another lifetime drifted back—fleeting, fragile things. The castle rising against a grey winter sky, the crisp air carrying the scent of snow over the Forbidden Forest, the golden glow spilling from the Great Hall on cold nights. She remembered the echo of footsteps in endless corridors, the quiet sanctuary of the library, and the way magic seemed to hum through the stones themselves. Beauxbâtons might outshine it in grace and beauty, but Hogwarts held something rarer: the weight of history, the feeling of belonging to a story greater than oneself. It had not known true peace in decades… yet in her heart, it would always remain a school—a place where young witches and wizards first learned to dream.