NOVEL WEB Chapter 12: School Letter
A few months slipped by like quiet pages turning in a book. During that time, Eira found herself swept into a world of quiet glances, whispered alliances, and measured words—the intricate dance of Pureblood society. Her grandfather, Elijah White, took her along to Ministry meetings and exclusive gatherings hosted by other noble families. At each event, he would guide her through the political tapestry of their world, pointing out names, legacies, old rivalries, and unspoken debts. It wasn't just socialization—it was education.
Eira listened, learned, and watched.
As her eleventh birthday approached, Elijah asked her whether she would like to host a formal celebration. "The other families will expect it," he noted calmly, his tone more matter-of-fact than indulgent.
But Eira shook her head. "No," she said quietly. "Not without you there, Grandfather. I don't have the patience to welcome them with false smiles. Let them gossip about it if they want."
And so, there was no grand party, no champagne toasts echoing through White Manor's halls. Yet, on the morning of her birthday, gifts still arrived—lavish, expensive, and numerous. There were silk gowns stitched with enchantments, gleaming jewelry from old vaults, rare artwork, and peculiar magical oddities. Each gift came with a carefully penned letter bearing the seal of an ancient house. But one stood out more than the rest.
It was from the Malfoy family.
The box was elegant, wrapped in emerald and silver ribbon. Inside, nestled on a bed of satin, lay a delicate necklace: fine gold with a single red rose fashioned from ruby at its center. Beautiful, understated—almost thoughtful. A card lay beside it.
Eira picked it up and read:
I was informed that today marks your eleventh birthday, and thought it only proper to send my regards. Eleven is a significant year for us, as you no doubt know, and I imagine you're quite prepared for what comes next.
You've made something of an impression at the events we've both attended—whether intentionally or not. It seems the whispers about the White family weren't exaggerated after all.
In any case, I hope the day is suitable to your standards. I expect the celebrations at White Manor are nothing short of impressive.
Happy Birthday.
—Draco Malfoy
Eira smirked, her fingers brushing the rose on the necklace. Definitely written by Narcissa, she thought. Polished, formal, with just the right amount of pretense. Still, the gesture was appreciated.
"Well, I suppose I'd better reply," she muttered, setting the necklace aside.
Later that afternoon, Eira took time to send thank-you notes to each of the families who had sent gifts. She paired every letter with a white flower, carefully chosen by the manor's elf. When she was finished, she stood, pocketed the Malfoy card, and headed toward her grandfather's study.
She knocked gently.
"Enter," came Elijah's voice from within.
Eira opened the heavy oak door and stepped inside. Her grandfather sat behind his desk, poring over a stack of parchment. As he looked up, his expression softened.
"Come in, Eira. Sit. There's something important we need to discuss."
She walked over and sat across from him, straight-backed and attentive. "What is it, Grandfather?"
Instead of answering, Elijah stood and retrieved a single envelope from the drawer of his desk. He handed it to her silently. Eira took it with curiosity.
The emblem on the envelope was unfamiliar: a silver-blue escutcheon with elegant, swirling edges. At its center were two crossed golden wands tipped with starlight, behind a stylized crystalline fleur-de-lis. A swan soared gracefully to the left of the shield, and a frosted rose bloomed on the right. Beneath it ran a ribbon inscribed with a flowing motto:
Élégance, Excellence, Enchantement.
Académie de Magie Beauxbâtons
Haute-Provence, France
Directrice : Madame Olympe Maxime
⸻
Chère Mademoiselle Eira White ,
C'est avec une grande fierté et une immense joie que nous vous informons de votre admission à l'Académie de Magie Beauxbâtons, établissement de renom dédié à l'excellence magique, à l'élégance et à la maîtrise des arts enchantés.
Vous avez été choisi(e) pour entamer votre première année d'étude magique sous la direction de professeurs parmi les plus respectés du monde sorcier. À Beauxbâtons, nous cultivons l'art de la magie avec discipline, raffinement et grâce.
Vous trouverez ci-joint la liste des manuels et équipements nécessaires pour votre première année. La rentrée scolaire est fixée au 1er septembre. Les élèves sont attendus au Château de Beauxbâtons en Haute-Provence au plus tard le 31 août, par Portoloin désigné ou autre moyen de transport magique autorisé.
L'uniforme officiel, composé de robes de soie bleue enchantées pour le confort et l'élégance, sera attribué à votre arrivée et devra être porté lors de toutes les occasions formelles.
Nous attendons avec impatience votre arrivée au château, niché au cœur des Pyrénées, où débutera votre apprentissage de la magie dans un cadre noble et enchanteur.
Avec nos salutations distinguées,
Madame Olympe Maxime
Directrice, Académie de Magie Beauxbâtons
Eira frowned slightly, her brow furrowed as she opened the letter. It was written entirely in French, a language she could not yet read—but she recognized two things: her name at the top, and the word Beauxbâtons.
She looked up. "Is this a school letter?"
Elijah nodded.
"But… shouldn't I have received my Hogwarts letter by now?"
"You did," he replied simply. "I declined it."
Eira stared at him in disbelief. "You what?"
He gave a small, patient smile. "Don't panic. It's only for the first year. If, after one year, you still wish to attend Hogwarts, I'll arrange the transfer. You won't miss a thing."
"But… why?" she asked, voice lowering. "I was planning to go. I mean—I was looking forward to it."
"There are several reasons," Elijah replied, settling back into his chair. "The White family has done business in France for centuries. Beauxbâtons is a part of that legacy. Every heir and heiress of our family has studied there—at least for a time. You'll learn the language, of course, but more importantly, you'll become familiar with French magical culture: how they think, how they operate, how they negotiate. You'll meet their families, their customs. And as the future matriarch of this family… that knowledge is essential."
Eira was silent, eyes on the envelope in her hand.
Elijah continued, more gently now. "The headmistress, Madame Maxime, is an old friend of mine. I've already discussed it with her. She'll look after you. It's only for one year, Eira. After that, if you truly want to attend Hogwarts, we'll make it happen."
She considered this carefully. The idea of learning French and being immersed in a new world was intimidating—but also… intriguing. Still, doubt lingered.
"Are you sure Hogwarts will take me after I transfer?"
Elijah chuckled softly. "They certainly will. Hogwarts never turns away a witch of your potential. Besides, I transferred there myself from Beauxbâtons in my fourth year. It's not unheard of."
Eira looked at him for a long moment. Then she slowly nodded. "Alright. I'll go. But only for one year."
Her grandfather's expression brightened. "Good. Then it's settled. I'll be in France too—for business. While you're at the academy, I'll begin introducing you to our holdings and partners in Provence. Consider it a beginning… the first steps of leadership."
She nodded again, absorbing the weight of it all.
"Pack your things," Elijah said, rising to sort another stack of parchment. "We leave for France in two days."
Eira stood and left the study quietly, her mind already racing. France. Beauxbâtons. A whole new world was waiting.