Harry Potter: The Last Heiress of The White Family

It was the weekend, and today marked a pivotal moment in Eira's life—her first true dip into the treacherous and dazzling social circles of Pureblood society. The Ministry of Magic was hosting a ball, and she would be accompanying her grandfather, Elijah White, and her uncle, Cecile.

After spending much of the morning dressing and redressing, Eira finally settled on a gown. It was black, adorned with delicate golden patterns that shimmered faintly in the light. Her house-elf had gently advised against darker colors—"First impressions are best made in lighter tones, Miss ,"—but she had dismissed the notion. Red, green, pink, even silver had all been options, yet her choice remained clear. Black was her favorite color, and tonight, she would wear what she loved.

After spraying herself with a subtle mist of rose-scented perfume , she stood before the mirror. The gown clung to her gracefully, its embroidery catching the light, while her eyes and hair seemed to gleam even more under its elegant contrast. Satisfied, she stepped out of her room.

Elijah White stood at the foot of the grand staircase, waiting, draped in his signature creamy-colored robe. He turned as she approached.

"I'm sorry for making you wait, Grandfather," Eira said, bowing slightly.

Elijah's eyes softened. "Don't worry about that," he replied. His gaze swept over her, pausing on her gown. "You look well in those clothes. Especially your eyes… and your hair—it's highlighted beautifully."

Eira offered a small smile. "Thank you. I appreciate your compliment, Grandfather."

At that moment, Cecile White entered from the opposite corridor. Clad in a striking red robe layered over a formal suit, he stood tall, his expression unreadable. His eyes flicked to Eira, then to Elijah.

"Let's go, Father."

Elijah gave a simple nod. "We'll be using the carriage. It will take us directly to the Ministry of Magic."

They exited the manor and stepped into the waiting carriage—an opulent vehicle styled like something from a medieval painting. Oddly, there were no visible horses pulling it. Eira noticed this but said nothing as she climbed in, seating herself between her grandfather and uncle. The carriage rose smoothly into the air.

As they ascended, Eira looked out the small window. Down below, the White Manor sat like a relic out of time—its towering silhouette wrapped in forests and guarded by the shadows of distant hills and mountains. It was, in a word, breathtaking.

"This castle," Elijah began, his voice calm but weighted with pride, "was built by our first ancestor. At the time, As they struck an agreement with the Muggle king. He granted them this land and the title that came with it. Legally, this land everything you see around us belongs to the House of White."

Eira's eyes widened slightly as she listened.

"There are no Muggle residences here anymore," Elijah continued, "nor any wizarding villages. This entire forest is protected by the family, and all magical creatures that live within it are under our protection."

"But Grandfather," Eira asked thoughtfully, "how are we protecting them? Surely there are poachers trying to steal magical beasts?"

Elijah gave a nod of approval at her question. "Dozens of our family's wizards patrol the area. And we have house-elves as well—brave, old ones—dedicated to guarding the forest and its magical inhabitants."

A thoughtful silence filled the carriage for several minutes before Elijah spoke again. His words were deliberate.

"Today, at the Ministry Ball, I will announce you, Eira, as the next heir to the White family."

Eira blinked. Her breath caught.

But Cecile when he heard what his father said got shocked and reacted instantly. "No! Father, that's impossible!" he said, his voice rising. "In the entire history of our family, no woman has ever inherited the title. This—this would be a disgrace to our ancestors!"

Elijah's tone was iron. "That doesn't concern you, Cecile. You've been disowned. And as far as I know, you have no intention of starting a family , Since you can't have kids with a man ."

"What?" Eira thought to herself, the pieces suddenly fitting together. "I've never seen Uncle with a partner… not a girlfriend, not a wife. He's always alone. So that's what it is… he's gay."

"You've long said you won't marry," Elijah continued, "and if you're not marrying, then that means she"—he nodded toward Eira—"is the only one who can carry on our bloodline."

Cecile flinched. "Father… that was private. I told you that in confidence," he hissed. "Don't speak about it in front of children."

"She's not a child anymore," Elijah said calmly. "She will be our next heir. She has the right to know who her uncle is."

Cecile clenched his jaw, his fists tightening on his robes. "I don't accept it, Father. I don't. That's the second time you've cast me aside. Why are you doing this to me again?" His voice cracked, filled with hurt. "You chose Damien before—Damien! Even when you knew he was incompetent. And look what happened! He got himself killed. We lost everything because of him!"

Cecile's face twisted. "And now, even though I'm the only remaining male, you're casting me aside again—just because of who I love? I could marry a pureblood witch. I could have children, heirs! If that's what it takes to carry on the family, I'll do it!"

"I will not let you play with a woman's life for your own gain," Elijah replied sharply. "You will not object to what I've decided. Eira will be the next heir of the most noble and ancient House of White. And you will accept it. In a few years, she will be the new matriarch."

Cecile stared at his father for a long, simmering moment, before lowering his head.

"As you wish, Father. As you wish."

"Good," Elijah said, satisfied. Then, turning to Eira, his expression softened. "I've heard you awakened your magic. You've had your magical rite?"

Eira smiled. "Yes, Grandfather. Just last week—I had my magical awakening. I'm a witch now."

Elijah nodded, pleased. He reached into his robe and withdrew a small iron key. "Here. A vault key to Gringotts. I've had a personal vault opened for you—it's a gift for your awakening. There's a hundred thousand Galleons in it. Use it however you see fit. When it runs out, tell me, and I'll send more."

Eira's eyes widened as she took the key. She bowed low. "Thank you, Grandfather. I'll cherish it."

When Eira took the key to the vault, a thrill of excitement ran through her. Merlin, it's good to be born into a rich family, she thought to herself, fighting the urge to grin like a maniac.

Elijah only smiled and nodded.

Across the carriage, Cecile seethed in silence, his eyes burning with a fury he could barely contain. All his life, he had longed for even a fraction of the love his father now showered upon the girl beside him. And now—she was to be named heir. The wound ran far deeper than wounded pride; it was a festering resentment that grew each time he witnessed their bond. Every compliment, every indulgence, every affectionate glance stirred something bitter within him. But he forced himself to stay calm. He wasn't powerful enough—yet—to challenge his father's decisions.

After half an hour, the carriage descended from the sky, landing with a gentle thud. The door opened. Elijah and Cecile stepped out first, then Elijah reached up to help Eira down. Together, they walked toward a small, unassuming building nestled behind magical enchantments.

Inside stood two guards.

"Welcome, Lord White," one of them said with a bow. "This way. Through this door, you may enter the Ministry of Magic."

Elijah nodded. "Come, Eira."

The enchanted door opened soundlessly, revealing a long corridor gleaming with golden fixtures and marbled floors. Eira stepped in, and Cecile followed silently behind them.

"This is the VIP entrance," Elijah explained, his voice echoing softly through the corridor. "Only officials, foreign dignitaries, and certain pureblood families use it. It's protected by ancient runes that open directly into the Ministry without use of Floo or apparition."

Eira nodded, absorbing every word. As they walked, she admired the golden statues, the grand paintings, and even the Ministry's new banners, glowing with the face of the current Minister.

"You'll be coming here a lot from now on," Elijah said, a knowing glint in his eyes.

They were soon met by several Ministry staff, who bowed and ushered them to the ballroom. As the doors opened, a wave of sound spilled out—laughter, music, the clinking of crystal goblets.

Inside, the ballroom was filled with elegantly dressed witches and wizards. Some danced, others debated politics, children dashed between tables of floating desserts. The air was rich with perfume and powdered spells.

It was overwhelming.

Eira's hands began to tremble slightly. The weight of expectation, of eyes, of society—all pressed on her shoulders.

But then she closed her eyes and tapped into her Occlumency. Her mind steadied. The noise faded. Her nerves cooled. When she opened her eyes again, her face was composed—expressionless , even—but calm.

"Let's go," Elijah said, leading them into the crowd.

And Eira followed, taking her first steps into the world of Pureblood power.