Harry Potter: The Last Heiress of The White Family

The afternoon sun filtered weakly through the stained glass windows of Beauxbatons' South Wing, where narrow stone corridors gave way to one of the oldest and most imposing halls in the château. Unlike the airy library or the bright Transfagration room, this classroom was lined with weathered tapestries depicting battles long past, wards etched in silver along the walls, and tall, arched ceilings that echoed the faint hum of protection charms.

It was the chamber of Magical Protection—a class whispered about among first-years with a blend of awe and nerves. Where the delicate elegance of Beauxbatons gave way to the raw practicality of defense. Where spells were not for beauty, but for survival.

Eira walked beside Ana, and on her other side strode Marin, with mischievous smile, as he had quickly struck up a friendship with Ana after knowing that she was Eira's new friend.

"I heard he used to duel dark wizards," Marin whispered, glancing at the heavy white door they approached.

"Who?" Eira asked.

"Our professor. Professor Vaillant."

Ana, normally quiet, nodded gravely. "They say he lost someone during the last magical conflict in England while he was in duty for the ministry of magic . That's why he's so strict."

Before Eira could respond, the door opened—on its own—and a deep, resonant voice echoed from within.

"Inside. Quickly."

The students filed in with hesitant steps. The classroom was tiered like a small amphitheater, with broad steps circling downward to a stone pit in the center. At the far end stood Professor Vaillant—a tall man with shoulder-length dark grey hair pulled into a ribbon, eyes like flint, and a deep blue robe embroidered with protective runes.

He did not smile. He did not welcome them. He simply stood there, hands behind his back, until every student was seated and silent.

"My name is Professor Gabriel Vaillant," he began. "You are here to learn how to protect yourselves—not from fantasy, but from truth. Magic is wondrous, yes. But it can be turned. And when it is, you must be ready."

A murmur of unease passed through the room.

"This is not a game," he continued, stepping toward the center of the stone floor. "Magic, when wielded without conscience or care, becomes a weapon. And the world, I assure you, has no shortage of those willing to use it against you."

With a wave of his wand, a dark iron gate rose from the floor. Behind it, a low, animalistic growl echoed.

A moment later, the creature was revealed.

It had the shape of a hound but stood taller than a man, its body composed of smoke and sinew, flickering like a living shadow. Its eyes glowed faintly violet, and its breath left trails of mist in the air.

"This," Professor Vaillant said calmly, "is a Morchasse. A creature born of fear magic. Not inherently dark, but reactive to emotional states. It cannot harm you in this form—it has been bound and diminished for training. However, it will lash out if provoked."

He turned to the board, and with a flick of his wand, the spell they would learn appeared in shimmering silver script:

Protego

The Shield Charm. Designed to repel minor attacks and deflect harmful spells or magical creatures.

"You will each cast the charm against the Morchasse," the professor continued. "Focus. Intention is everything. If you fear it, the spell will weaken. If you doubt yourself, the shield will crack. Remember—magic listens."

He turned. "Marin Lefèvre. You first."

Marin blinked, then stood and stepped into the central floor. The Morchasse growled low as it sensed him approach, its form sharpening slightly.

Professor Vaillant gave a subtle nod.

Marin raised his wand. His voice was firm and steady. "Protego!"

A bright shield of transparent blue flared into existence before him just as the Morchasse lunged. The creature struck the shield and bounced back with a frustrated snarl, unable to break through.

The spell shimmered, strong and perfectly formed.

Professor Vaillant's eyes narrowed, not unkindly. "Excellent control, Mr. Lefèvre. Calm execution. Very well done."

Marin gave a quick, humble nod and returned to his seat beside Eira, who gave him a quiet thumbs-up.

Then, "Eira White. Step forward."

Eira took a breath and stood, her legs a little heavier than she expected. The stone floor was cool beneath her shoes as she walked toward the pit. The Morchasse, still crackling with flickers of shadow, turned its head toward her.

Its gaze was heavy. Not evil or cruel—but like it could see her doubts.

She lifted her wand.

The fear came suddenly: What if I fail? What if it sees my fear? But then she remembered Ana's quiet words in the library. Magic responds best to kindness… and clarity.

She steadied her breathing.

"Protego!"

Her wand sparked, and a shimmering, pale-blue shield blossomed into being. The Morchasse lunged—and met her barrier with a flash of light. The spell held, a bit thinner than Marin's, but firm. The creature hissed and slinked back into its corner.

Professor Vaillant's voice echoed across the silence. "Sufficient. Focused, though slightly unstable at the core. You'll need to work on confidence, Miss White. But it held. And that is what matters."

Eira exhaled, her knees wobbling slightly, and returned to her seat. Marin whispered, "You did great."

She smiled faintly. "It held."

Next came Ana. Quietly, without being called, she stepped forward when the professor nodded her way. Her steps were silent, her expression calm. The Morchasse tilted its head, uncertain.

Ana raised her wand, then whispered, almost too softly to hear, "Protego."

The shield that appeared wasn't as brilliant or forceful—but it was graceful. Like moonlight on water, it shimmered softly but didn't flicker. When the Morchasse lunged, it didn't bounce back harshly—it paused, as if gently pushed by a tide.

The professor observed for a long moment.

"Interesting," he said. "Not power, but precision. That can be just as effective. Sit down."

Ana returned, quiet and steady, and Eira smiled at her.

"You're a natural,in this , way better than me " she whispered.

Ana shrugged. "The creature didn't scare me. It just looked… lonely."

Eira blinked at her.

As the class continued, student after student attempted the spell—some succeeding, others fumbling, but none injured. Professor Vaillant kept strict notes, offered no sugarcoating, and yet never raised his voice.

At the end of the lesson, he addressed them once more.

"You are first-years," he said plainly. "You are still soft, untested. But some of you show promise. Protection magic is not about attack and certainly not about glory. It is about shielding others when no one else can."

He looked over the room, his gaze lingering for a moment on Eira, then Marin.

"This class may one day save your life. Or someone else's. Take it seriously."

The bell rang, distant and echoing.

As the students rose and began to leave, Marin nudged Eira. "You did really well, you know.but still not good enough if you promise me a date then I will help you out with this spell."

"Nope thanks I will ask Fleur she will teach me without flirting with me ," she rolled her eyes then replied.

"You are really selfish you know that ," he said with a smirk. "You didn't introduce her to me…"

Ana rolled her eyes. "Oh so you go and harass her too , be careful Marin someday the girls that you harassed will come after you ."

Eira laughed. The tension that had filled her chest began to lift.

As they walked out into the soft light of the afternoon, leaving the shadows of the protection hall behind, Eira glanced at her friends—Ana, serene and kind, and Marin, clever and naughty. There was something comforting in having friends but still she hoped that this friendship remains like this as always .