The days at Beauxbâtons no longer passed in measured rhythm but in tense leaps from one examination to the next. Eira woke earlier than usual and after a warm shower she made her way towards the class for the next step of her exams.
The next exam loomed: Potions.
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Professor Santiago Velasco had arrived at Beauxbâtons only this year, but his reputation had spread quickly. A Spaniard with quick dark eyes, an easy smile, and a habit of slipping Spanish words into his French explanations, he had won students over with his passion and precision. He was both kind and demanding, quick to praise a well-brewed potion but merciless if one's cauldron was neglected.
The exam hall smelled faintly of dried herbs and crushed roots when the students entered. Each desk was set with a sheet of parchment for the written portion and, beside it, a clean cauldron and carefully measured ingredients for the practical.
Velasco stood at the front, his arms folded, his robes dusted with faint stains of old potions. "Buenos días, estudiantes," he greeted, smiling. "Hoy—ah, pardon—today, you will show me what you have learned. First, you will write. Introduce three potions we studied this year, explain their uses, their dangers, and their limits. After that, you will brew the Calmantis potion. ¿Entendido? Good. Begin."
Eira unrolled her parchment. The first question asked her to introduce any three potions taught during the year. Her quill moved steadily.
She began with the Wiggenweld Potion, describing its restorative properties, its use in counteracting sleeping draughts, and its vital place in healing spell damage. She explained its ingredients—wiggentree bark, fluxweed, and the subtle stirrings required to prevent bitterness.
Her second choice was the Boil-Cure Potion, deceptively simple yet crucial, especially for apprentices. She wrote of its effectiveness in treating skin afflictions, its common mistakes (such as mis-timing the addition of snake fangs, which could make the potion dangerously corrosive), and its significance in teaching novice brewers patience.
Finally, she chose the Elixir to Induce Euphoria, carefully noting its risks. Though capable of elevating mood and dispelling depression, over-stirring could create giddiness or uncontrollable singing, rendering it dangerous in untrained hands.
She wrote with calm precision, filling her parchment in neat, confident lines. Around her, quills scratched nervously; Marin, two rows away, tapped his foot as he paused to think.
When Velasco finally announced, "Tiempo! Written portion finished," the students set down their quills. The room seemed to tighten in anticipation as he clapped his hands.
"Now, the practical. The Calmantis potion. It cures mild pain—dolores pequeños—and minor injuries. You have the ingredients before you. Follow the process as taught. Remember, stir counter-clockwise after the infusion of willow bark. Begin."
Eira tied her hair back and lit her cauldron with a steady flick. Her hands moved with practiced ease: crushed dittany leaves into simmering water, powdered valerian root, a measured shaving of willow bark. The potion shifted slowly from pale green to a translucent blue as she stirred counter-clockwise, counting under her breath. She added the final drop of salamander blood, and the potion settled into a calm, luminous teal.
Velasco passed behind each student, his sharp eyes observing. Some cauldrons frothed over, others curdled into dangerous shades of brown. Marin's potion gave off a faintly sour smell, though it glowed acceptably.
When he reached Eira, he leaned slightly to peer into her cauldron. The surface shimmered like glass, the color precise, the texture smooth. He gave the smallest nod, lips curling faintly. "Perfecto," he murmured, and walked on.
Eira allowed herself a tiny breath of satisfaction.
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The Ancient Runes Exam — Professor Valentine Dain
The next day was the most unusual of all, for Professor Valentine Dain was no ordinary teacher. His pale skin, sharp cheekbones, and long dark hair marked him immediately as different, but it was his eyes—calm, deep, and faintly luminous—that made students whisper. A vampire, yes, but a scholar above all, he treated his students with measured respect, and his mastery of the runes was unquestionable.
The exam was held in the Runic Hall, its walls lined with carved stones bearing ancient inscriptions. Each desk bore a thick parchment scroll with fifty symbols etched at the top.
Dain glided to the front, his black robes whispering faintly. "Fifty runes," he said softly, his voice smooth as silk. "Identify them. Translate their meanings. If you can, describe their application. Extra credit lies not in memorization but in comprehension. Begin."
Eira unrolled the parchment. The first rune: Fehu—wealth, prosperity, beginnings. Her quill scratched steadily.
The next: Ansuz—divine wisdom, inspiration, communication. She explained how it was often carved into staffs to improve clarity in magical speech.
She moved rune by rune: Thurisaz, protective but volatile; Eihwaz, representing endurance and defense; Laguz, the rune of water and intuition. She not only gave their meanings but noted where they might be applied in wards, enchantments, and inscriptions.
The hall was silent save for the scratching of quills. Some students stared blankly after the first dozen runes, their ink smudging as they struggled to recall. Eira's quill never faltered, her knowledge flowing as though the runes themselves whispered to her.
When she finished, she reviewed her answers, then carried the parchment forward. Professor Dain received it with his pale hands, his expression unreadable. But as their eyes met, he inclined his head faintly—a gesture that, from him, was praise enough.
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The Transfiguration Exam — Professor Corvielle
The next morning dawned clear and cold. Professor Corvielle stood at the front of the Transfiguration classroom, her elegant posture and hawk-like eyes commanding immediate respect. She was strict, but fair, and her pride in her students' progress was always clear.
As the exam began, she called on Eira first. "Mademoiselle White," she said, lips curving in the faintest smile. "If you can reproduce the phoenix you conjured in class—ah, but this time, let it fly—I will give you perfect marks. No written exam required."
The room murmured in surprise. Eira blinked, then felt a small smile tug at her lips.
She stepped forward to the desk where a plain wooden box sat. Raising her wand, she focused. The movement was fluid, the incantation clear. The box shivered, warped, and unfolded. Feathers of brilliant orange unfurled, and in moments, a phoenix burst forth, its plumage glowing with firelight.
It opened its beak and gave a cry that resonated through the room, then spread its wings and took flight, circling above the students in a blaze of color.
Gasps filled the room. Marin clapped his hands softly in awe.
Professor Corvielle's eyes softened with rare admiration. "Magnifique," she said. "Better than I expected. You could not make it fly before. I thought it would take you years yet. But now… you have exceeded my prediction. You may go, Mademoiselle White. You already have perfect marks."
Eira bowed her head politely. "Merci, Professor." She turned and walked out, her heart steady but warm.
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The Magical Defense Exam — Professor Gabriel Vaillant
By the next day, fatigue had settled in. Students dragged themselves into Professor Gabriel Vaillant's classroom with heavy eyes. He was an imposing figure: tall, broad-shouldered, his grey eyes sharp beneath dark brows. Unlike Professor Chamberlain, there was no warmth in him—only discipline.
The written exam came first. "You will explain," he said curtly, "the defensive measures against various creatures: kappas, red caps, lethifolds, trolls. Write clearly what must be done. Begin."
Eira bent her head over the parchment. She wrote of kappas—how to trick them into bowing, spilling the water from their heads. Of red caps—dispersed by defensive charms or banishing spells. Of trolls—their stupidity, how a simple Stunning Spell to the head often sufficed. And of lethifolds—dark creatures of nightmares, repelled only by the Patronus Charm.
When the written portion ended, Vaillant announced the practical: a one-on-one duel. Each student would face him briefly, his role to press their defense.
One by one, students stepped forward, casting shaky shields, some disarmed immediately. Marin managed a decent defense before being gently but firmly disarmed.
When Eira's turn came, she lifted her wand steadily.
Vaillant's first spell was a sharp Stunner. She deflected it with a clean Protego, following swiftly with a disarming charm of her own. He blocked, eyes narrowing faintly.
The duel intensified. He cast a barrage—stinging hexes, jinxes, binding charms. Eira countered with crisp precision, her wand moving fluidly. She did not rely on one tactic but shifted constantly: shields, counters, evasive charms. Once, she even forced him back with a well-aimed Knockback Jinx.
For a moment, his brows lifted—surprise flickering in his cold expression. Then, just as swiftly, he ended it, lowering his wand.
"Enough. You may go, Mademoiselle White," he said curtly. Yet in his eyes lingered a faint glint of respect.
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The Magical Botany Exam — Professor Lioré
The final exam of the week was in the greenhouses. The air was damp and earthy, filled with the scents of soil and strange blossoms. Professor Lioré, a wiry man with dirt-stained gloves, bustled among the rows of plants.
"Today," he said briskly, "you will identify the plants I set before you, explain their dangers or uses, and then repot one—change its soil correctly. Begin."
Each student was led to a station with three plants. Eira found herself before a puffapod, a venomous tentacula, and a mimbulus mimbletonia.
She described the puffapod—harmless seeds that burst into flowers when dropped. She explained the venomous tentacula's grasping vines, dangerous without proper protection, yet useful in advanced potions. Finally, she detailed the mimbulus mimbletonia's defensive stinksap, unpleasant but harmless.
Then came the repotting. She pulled on dragon-hide gloves, gently loosened the soil, shifted the roots of the mimbulus mimbletonia into richer dragon dung compost, and tamped it down. The plant gave a faint squelch but otherwise settled happily.
Professor Lioré watched, nodding. "Excellent, Mademoiselle White. Efficient, careful. Très bien."
As she stepped back, Eira exhaled softly. The exams were done—each one a test not only of memory but of discipline, focus, and growth.
The week closed in a haze of exhaustion and relief. Students staggered back to their dormitories, some groaning, others laughing nervously about their mistakes. Fleur leaned against Eira as they walked, sighing, "At least it is finished."
Eira only nodded, a quiet satisfaction settling in her chest. She had done what she came to do. She was certain that she would pass all of her exams since the results will be released during the summer holidays.