Two days had passed since the Yule Ball, and Hogwarts was caught in that peculiar, cheerful chaos that always followed grand celebrations. The castle's ancient halls seemed brighter despite the soft white snow falling steadily outside the enchanted windows. Students bustled about in scarves and mittens, speaking in hurried whispers or laughing aloud in the corridors, trading tales about the events of that unforgettable night.
Love was in the air—or at least, something very close to it. The Yule Ball had created new couples as quickly as it had shattered old ones. Every corner of the castle buzzed with rumor: someone had been rejected under the mistletoe, someone else had been caught sneaking back to their dorm after curfew, and Argus Filch, the ever-watchful caretaker, had reportedly discovered a pair of students "making out" together in a broom cupboard. Hogwarts, during winter holidays, was less an academic institution and more a cauldron of gossip, romantic drama, and snowball fights.
Far from the noise, at the top of the Astronomy Tower, Eira stood alone.
The morning light filtered through drifting snowflakes, bathing her in a pale, golden glow. Her breath formed small clouds in the cold air as she looked toward the Forbidden Forest, its trees cloaked in white silence.
In her hands, she held a small ornate box—old, carved with delicate runes, and decorated with silver inlay that shimmered faintly with enchantment. When opened, the box revealed its treasure: a single feather, glowing softly with hues of orange and black. It shimmered with the warmth of life itself. A phoenix feather. Beside it lay a small glass vial filled with shimmering ashes of the same creature.
Eira's gaze lingered on them, her mind racing quietly.
She knew what these were for—the final ingredients for the Bloodline Awakening Potion, one that could only be consumed during the coldest night of winter. The ritual would demand power, secrecy, and probably sacrifice. The potion will give her the blessing of a magical bloodline, but it would also expose her to risks even she hadn't fully calculated.
She sighed softly, closing the box. Her gloved fingers traced the runes once before she slipped it away into her system space. Her green eyes swept the mountains beyond the Forbidden Forest. Somewhere out there, she would need to find the perfect place—a quiet, safe location where no curious eyes would interfere.
Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of footsteps echoing on the stone floor behind her.
She turned.
Tracey Davis was climbing up the last few steps, her curly hair slightly messy, cheeks flushed from the morning cold. She wore her green Slytherin scarf loosely around her neck and had the kind of bright, mischievous grin that immediately made her presence known.
"There you are!" Tracey called out, her voice cheerful as ever. "I've been looking all over for you. Come on, let's go get breakfast! You've been standing here since morning."
Eira smiled faintly. "Relax. There's still time before the Great Hall runs out of pumpkin juice."
Tracey placed her hands on her hips, feigning impatience. "Still time, she says. You're freezing yourself up here like a statue. What are you even doing?"
"I was looking toward the forest," Eira replied calmly, her tone thoughtful. "Trying to decide where to go for something… private."
Tracey raised a brow. "Private, huh? Should I be worried or intrigued?"
Eira gave her a sidelong glance and smirked slightly. "You should always be both when it comes to me."
Tracey laughed. "Fair enough. Anyway—speaking of private matters…" Her eyes sparkled mischievously. "Tell me, how did you end up being Viktor Krum's date to the Yule Ball? You kept it so secret that half the school is still gossiping about it. People are saying there was some secret romance going on."
Eira chuckled softly. "Actually, it wasn't me. You're confusing me with yourself. You were his date, remember?"
"Oh—oh right," Tracey blinked, then groaned, realizing her mistake. "You see, that's how dramatic this castle is. Even I'm starting to believe the rumors about myself."
Eira leaned against the stone railing, her lips curving into an amused smile. "So, are the rumors true, then? That you've been seen with him ever since the day he arrived at Hogwarts, and that you two have been secretly dating, hiding it from everyone until the Yule Ball?"
Tracey rolled her eyes. "There's no such thing as a hidden relationship. I just asked him one day when he was coming out of the library. He looked surprised, but then he smiled and said yes. Simple as that."
Eira's smile widened. "So you were bold enough to ask the great Bulgarian Seeker yourself. That's impressive."
Tracey puffed up proudly for a moment, then deflated with a sigh. "Oh, don't make it sound heroic. I was terrified. I thought he'd laugh at me or something, but he didn't. He actually seemed… sweet about it."
"That's sweet indeed," Eira said, teasingly. "So, what now? Anything still going on between you two?"
Tracey's expression darkened a little. "No. After that night, I haven't even seen him. He hasn't sent me a single letter either. I thought about going to his ship once, but then I stopped myself. If he doesn't care enough to reach out, why should I?"
Eira raised an eyebrow, amused. "What happened to you? Just last week you were swooning over him like he was some sort of divine creature. Now you're suddenly all dignified."
Tracey lifted her chin, mock-proud. "Because I am a dignified woman, thank you. I know my worth. I asked him first—bravely, I might add—and if he doesn't value that, it's his loss."
Eira chuckled. "That's my girl. But still, be careful not to fall to fall for him. He'll be gone in a few months, and long-distance love rarely survives, and you know he's older than you."
Tracey smirked, crossing her arms. "Oh? That's rich, coming from you."
Eira blinked. "What do you mean?"
Tracey leaned closer with a sly grin. "Your French girlfriend is older than you too. Maybe take your own advice before giving it to me."
Eira's mouth twitched. "That's different."
"Oh really?" Tracey teased. "And how exactly is it different, my dear Lady White?"
Eira looked away, feigning composure. "Because I've known her for years. Our relationship developed naturally, through time and friendship."
"Uh-huh," Tracey said, clearly unconvinced. "Tell yourself that if it helps you sleep at night. Anyway, my thing with Krum wasn't serious. I had fun during the Yule Ball, and that's that."
Eira gave a small, approving nod. "Fair enough."
Before either of them could continue, a sharp flutter of wings echoed through the tower. A large brown owl swooped through the open archway and landed gracefully on the railing in front of them, dropping a rolled newspaper directly into Eira's hands. The bird hooted once before flying off again, leaving behind a faint trail of snow.
Tracey's eyes sparkled. "Ah, the Daily Prophet. Let's see what scandal they've cooked up today."
Eira unrolled the paper—and froze. Her expression shifted from calm curiosity to mild surprise.
Tracey immediately leaned over. "What's wrong?" Then her eyes widened. "Oh. Oh wow."
The front page displayed a large, moving photograph. It captured the exact moment from the Yule Ball when the four champions had been dancing. And at the end of the dance—when Fleur had leaned down and kissed Eira on the lips—it had been perfectly, unmistakably caught by the photographer.
The caption underneath blazed in gold ink:
"The Rumors Were True: The Young Patriarch of the Noble House of White Has a Preference for Women."
Tracey burst out laughing, clutching her stomach. "Oh Merlin's beard, Eira! They actually printed it! You've officially stolen the spotlight from Harry Potter himself. The whole wizarding world's going to be talking about you now."
Eira sighed, scanning the article. "I was planning to make an announcement myself someday, but I suppose the Prophet just saved me the trouble." She tilted her head thoughtfully. "Still, I wonder who took the picture. Dumbledore certainly wouldn't have allowed any reporters inside."
Tracey wagged her eyebrows. "Maybe you've got a secret admirer. A stalker, even. How romantic."
Eira rolled her eyes and folded the paper neatly. "Romantic isn't the word I'd use. Come on, let's go to breakfast before the rest of the castle finds copies."
Tracey grinned. "Oh no, I definitely want to see their reactions. You know, everyone already saw that kiss in person, but now that it's in print? You're officially Hogwarts' biggest headline."
As they began descending the narrow staircase, Tracey continued talking animatedly. "You know what's funny, though? Before you came to Hogwarts, everyone treated you like this untouchable mystery. The great Eira White, prodigy of Beauxbâtons, heir to the House of White, and—" she lowered her voice dramatically, "—possibly the female Dumbledore of our generation."
Eira laughed softly. "Female Dumbledore? That's a new one."
"Oh, trust me," Tracey went on, "you were the legend. Every time your name came up, people either admired you or were terrified of you. And now—" she grinned, "—you're suddenly the romantic heroine in every boy's heartbreak story."
Eira chuckled again. "I'm not sure if that's an improvement."
"Oh, it is," Tracey said quickly. "You wouldn't believe how many boys were groaning during the Yule Ball when they saw you and Fleur kissing. Two of the most beautiful girls in the school, just—well, you know."
Eira raised an eyebrow, teasingly. "So you think I'm beautiful?"
Tracey's eyes widened. "Hey, hey—careful there, Lady White. I like men, thank you very much. Don't start getting ideas."
Eira smirked. "Relax, I was only teasing."
"Good," Tracey said with mock seriousness. "Because if you start flirting with me, I'll have to duel you, and we both know how that would end."
"With you stunned on the floor, I imagine," Eira replied smoothly.
Tracey elbowed her playfully. "Careful, lady White. You already have one girl making headlines over you. Don't make me the next victim."
<<<<<<< Special Feature — December Edition
By Clarisse Bellington, Senior Correspondent for European Wizarding Affairs
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"The Rumors Were True: Heir of the White Family in a Romance with French Champion Fleur Delacour"
By now, most of our readers have seen the photograph circulating across the wizarding world — a breathtaking yet controversial image captured during the closing moments of the Yule Ball at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.
The moving photograph shows none other than Eira White, the young and distinguished Matriarch of the Ancient and Most Noble House of White, being kissed by the French Triwizard Champion Fleur Isabelle Delacour of Beauxbâtons Academy of Magic. The moment — bold, tender, and entirely unexpected — stunned the students of Hogwarts and has since set both the British and French wizarding communities ablaze with speculation.
⸻
From Rumors in France to Reality at Hogwarts
This is not the first time Miss White's private life has been the subject of whispers. During her years at Beauxbâtons, there were murmurs that she had formed a "close companionship" with a fellow student — another young witch of noble descent. The White family dismissed those claims at the time, and when Miss White transferred to Hogwarts earlier this year to complete her fourth year of study, the British wizarding public largely dismissed the earlier gossip as youthful rumor.
However, the events of the Yule Ball have now reignited those conversations with far greater fervor. Few could have predicted that when the Beauxbâtons champion Miss Delacour invited Miss White as her partner to the Ball — a gesture already unusual by tradition — the evening would culminate in such a dramatic public declaration of affection.
Witnesses say that at the end of the opening dance, Fleur Delacour dipped her partner gracefully and kissed her in full view of the Great Hall, earning both cheers and stunned silence. The photograph of that moment has since become the most discussed image in wizarding Europe.
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Who Is Fleur Delacour?
Born in Marseille, France, Fleur Isabelle Delacour, aged seventeen, hails from the prestigious House of Delacour, a family known for its deep magical lineage and close ties to the French Ministry of Magic. Fleur is the eldest daughter of Jean-Luc and Apolline Delacour, both of whom have long-standing influence within the French aristocracy of wizards.
Notably, her mother is said to be part Veela — a heritage Fleur herself has inherited in part. This unique ancestry has often made her the subject of fascination and jealousy alike. The Delacours are admired for their refinement, wealth, and considerable magical pedigree, owning multiple estates in southern France and maintaining strong relations with Beauxbâtons' administration.
To see the young Delacour romantically linked with Eira White, one of Britain's most powerful pure-blood Matriarch, is being interpreted by many as more than a schoolyard romance — it is, some claim, the beginning of a new European alliance.
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A Tradition Rekindled — The Whites and France
This is not the first time the House of White has found its heart across the Channel. Historians will recall that several generations ago, Lord Cedric White married Lady Amélie Rousseau, a noble witch of French descent. Since then, ties between the Whites and the French magical aristocracy have remained cordial, if distant.
With this new development, observers note with wry amusement that the Whites appear, once again, drawn toward France — both politically and romantically. Whether this rekindled bond will strengthen Anglo-French magical relations or further complicate them remains to be seen.
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The Draco Malfoy Rumor
Until now, it had been widely believed that Miss White might one day be engaged to Draco Malfoy, heir to the House of Malfoy, another ancient pure-blood family of Britain. Though the Malfoy family never confirmed nor denied such an arrangement, their frequent social proximity fueled the assumption of an impending alliance.
Yet the scene at the Yule Ball has rendered that rumor obsolete. Sources close to the Malfoys have declined to comment, though one unnamed member of the Wizengamot described the revelation as "a rather dramatic turn of events for Britain's pure-blood circles."
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Reactions and Ramifications
Among the older generation of wizarding families, reactions range from fascination to quiet dismay. Many had envisioned Miss White's eventual marriage as a key political event—one that could unite or elevate certain bloodlines. Her public relationship with another young woman, particularly a foreign one, now challenges centuries of expectation within the pure-blood social order.
Already, several British pure-blood families are rumored to be "re-evaluating" their diplomatic stances toward the Whites, while French newspapers celebrate what Le Courrier Magique calls "a victory of French grace over British reserve."
Should this relationship develop further, it could dramatically alter the balance of influence among Europe's oldest magical dynasties. The Delacours, once regarded as secondary in continental politics, now find themselves thrust into international prominence—potentially securing a powerful alliance with the legendary House of White.
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Questions That Demand Answers
This story, however, raises questions as profound as they are personal.
Is this simply a young romance, blossoming in the snow-covered halls of Hogwarts?
Or could it signify something greater—a deliberate joining of two ancient houses, uniting British and French magical nobility through affection rather than contract?
And what of the White family's legacy? For centuries, continuity of bloodline has been a cornerstone of its tradition. If Lady White truly intends to stand by her new partner, can that continuity endure? Would the House accept such an unconventional union, or will it adapt to a new era of love and power untethered by expectation?
Some conspiracy-minded readers have even wondered whether this is part of a broader French effort to extend influence into British magical affairs—a suggestion the French Ministry has, of course, dismissed as "absurd and romantic nonsense." Still, the question lingers: Is the French wizarding world quietly reclaiming its place in British society through charm and diplomacy?
Only time will tell.
For now, one fact remains clear:
Eira White has once again astonished the wizarding world—not through power or politics, but through something far more unpredictable.
Love.
⸻
By Clarisse Bellington
Senior Correspondent, The Daily Prophet
All rights reserved. Reproduction without permission prohibited. >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>