Harry Potter: The Last Heiress of The White Family

Afterward, Eira and Fleur were walking back to their dorms. Along the way, Eira glanced at Fleur and asked softly,

"Do you want to accompany me? If you don't want to, I'll understand—it's okay. I can go to this hearing on my own."

Fleur chuckled, brushing her silvery-blonde hair behind her ear.

"Oh no, I want to come. I just want to see the British wizards for myself. Especially those pure-blood families." She paused, her voice taking on a sharper edge. "You know, ever since the Muggles started the French Revolution, the whole ideology of blood purity and nobility completely changed. Even the French wizarding community was affected. That's why here in France, there's barely any of that pure-blood nonsense left." She looked at Eira with a raised brow. "But I've heard Britain still clings to it."

Eira sighed, her expression darkening slightly.

"Well… yeah. Unfortunately, that is true. The last time someone truly advocated for the pure-blood ideology was about ten—nearly twelve—years ago. It led to a war. Since then, things have quieted down a bit. It's not as extreme anymore. At least now, they won't openly attack the Hogwarts Express or young children just for being Muggle-born or half-blood."

Fleur gave a firm nod. "That, for sure, is a relief. Well then—let's go. I want to see these people. I'm so excited!"

⸻

Back at the Ombrelune's House , Eira returned to her room, gathered some spare clothes, and carefully tucked them into her system space. She also packed some food—just to be safe—then headed down to the hall, where Fleur was already waiting.

"I brought some defensive artifacts from my family," Fleur announced casually, lifting a small pouch. "You know I don't trust British wizards."

Eira rolled her eyes. "Come on, don't antagonize British wizards so much. You know I'm British too."

Fleur smirked. "Yes, you're British—but you're here in France. So you don't count."

Eira sighed with a soft huff. "Let's just go."

They walked together to the far end of the garden, where a small room stood nestled among the trees. Fleur led her inside.

"This is the spot," she said. "Whenever a Portkey is used, the signature is left here. So when we reactivate it from England, it will send us directly back to this room."

Eira nodded in recognition. The space was exactly the same as when she first arrived—back in that quiet village near Pyrenees.

Fleur stepped forward, holding the Portkey in her hand.

"Alright, come hug me. I don't want us to get separated. You know Portkey travel can be unstable."

"I'm sure we can manage with just one hand," Eira said, reaching out.

Fleur raised a brow and teased, "Oh? Are you shy?"

Eira rolled her eyes but suddenly stepped forward and hugged Fleur tightly.

"There. Someone said I was shy—so I wanted to prove them wrong."

Fleur let out a surprised laugh. "Relax, are you trying to strangle me?"

Blushing, Eira quickly added, "I just wanted to make sure we didn't get separated." But even as she said it, the scent of Fleur's perfume and natural warmth made her cheeks burn even redder. Thankfully, being a little shorter than Fleur meant her flushed face was well hidden.

"Alright," Fleur said, gripping the Portkey. "On three. One… two… three—activate."

As the Portkey magic surged around them, Eira closed her eyes, holding tightly to Fleur as the world spun and twisted. The air shimmered with a strange, unsteady energy.

Then suddenly, with a thud, they landed.

Eira was still hugging Fleur when she heard her say, "Come on, little bunny—we've arrived."

Realizing where they were, Eira quickly released her, cleared her throat, and straightened her collar.

"Okay, let's go."

⸻

Outside, the sky was dull with grey clouds typical of England. Fleur stepped out first and looked around in curiosity.

"So this is England? It's London, right?"

Eira nodded, glancing around the familiar but still strange streets.

"Yes. This is London."

"Have you ever been to the Muggle world before?" Eira asked.

"Only once—in France," Fleur replied. "Other than that, this is my first time in the Muggle world here."

Eira smiled. "Well, you're in luck—it's my first time too in the London Muggle world."

Fleur gave her a puzzled look. "So how am I in luck when you barely know this place either?"

"At least I know the language," Eira teased. "Let's go to that telephone booth. The letter said we can access the Ministry from there."

They walked down the London street, blending in awkwardly among Muggles in suits and trench coats. Eventually, they reached a small red telephone booth. Both squeezed inside the cramped space, and Eira carefully dialed the number written in the letter.

A female voice rang out:

"This is the British Ministry of Magic. Please identify yourself and state your purpose."

Eira spoke clearly.

"I'm Eira White, here for the 10 o'clock hearing at the Wizengamot."

"And your companion?"

"Fleur Delacour."

There was a short pause. Then,

"Identity confirmed. Please make contact with your partner and prepare for transport."

Eira reached for Fleur's hand, and in a flash, both of them were magically pulled downward. Moments later, they stumbled out of a green fireplace in the Ministry's main Atrium.

Fleur coughed, brushing ash from her sleeve.

"I really hate fireplaces. So uncivilized."

"Well," Eira said with a dry smile, "that's what we wizards invented—so we're stuck with it."

⸻

Inside the grand hall, Eira walked with confidence—this wasn't her first visit. She led Fleur straight to the registration counter.

"Identity, please. Both wands must be registered," said the clerk, not looking up.

Eira pulled out a polished silver badge with her family's crest. The clerk examined it, then tapped it with a verification spell. His eyes widened.

"My apologies, Miss White," he said quickly, bowing slightly. "All in order."

Their wands were briefly inspected and returned. Then they were permitted inside.

As they walked through the busy corridors, Fleur wrinkled her nose.

"Why are there so many people?"

"This is the British Ministry. Of course it's full of old officials."

"France's Ministry is different," Fleur said proudly. "It's very elegant—divided by wings, modern, clean. These British wizards have no sense of style."

Eira gave her a playful side-glance. "Sure, sure, let's keep moving."

They arrived at another counter. Eira stepped forward.

"Where is today's Wizengamot hearing?"

The witch behind the desk replied, "Six floors underground. The main hall."

Eira and Fleur entered the nearest lift. A uniformed attendant stood inside.

"Floor?" he asked.

"Sixth underground," Eira answered.

As the lift groaned into motion, Fleur whispered, "So backward. Even the elevators look like they're from a century ago."

Eira rolled her eyes. "What if they understand French?"

Fleur giggled. "Well, I'm not wrong, am I?"

Eira gave a small amused smile. The lift dinged, and they stepped into a long corridor leading to an imposing golden door. Just before they reached it, a stern wizard stepped in front of them.

"Who are you?"

Eira lifted her badge once more. "Eira White. I'm here to represent the White family."

The wizard nodded respectfully. "Right this way, miss."

They entered the grand hearing chamber. A few people were already seated, but many had yet to arrive. They were shown to their seats—front row, near the presiding judge.

Fleur leaned over and whispered, "At least this chamber is as grand as the one in the French Ministry."

Eira arched an eyebrow. "So you've been to a hearing before?"

Fleur nodded. "Once. There was a small issue with something my grandmother created. I accompanied her. It was my first time witnessing a hearing."

Eira looked surprised. "So you've been there?"

"Of course. That was also when Madame Maxime accepted me as her apprentice."

Eira nodded thoughtfully, and they both turned to wait as the rest of the Wizengamot members slowly began to arrive.