Aurora stared at the pile of blue silk on her bed and felt a headache starting behind her eyes.
She was officially behind schedule. The sun was already hitting the vineyards outside her window, which meant her dad had likely been up for three hours and was currently vibrating with the need to get to the departure point.
"Aurora! Check your desk drawers! You always leave your quills!" her mother shouted from somewhere downstairs, followed by the heavy thud of a trunk being moved.
"I got them, Maman!" Aurora called back, though she definitely hadn't checked.
She shoved a handful of hair ties and a half-eaten bar of chocolate into the side pocket of her bag. Her room was a mess of "last-minute" decisions. She had three different versions of the Beauxbatons history textbook because she couldn't remember which one was the updated edition, and her floor was a graveyard of crumpled-up sketches she'd started over the summer.
She caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror. Her hair was a bird's nest, and she had a smudge of ink on her cheek from falling asleep over her journal. She looked less like a "refined witch" and more like someone who had been hit by a bus.
She grabbed a washcloth, scrubbed her face until it stung, and started braiding her hair with aggressive speed.
Thump-thump-thump.
Her younger brother, Pierre, didn't bother knocking. He kicked the door open, already dressed in his junior robes, looking entirely too smug. "Dad says if you aren't down in sixty seconds, he's letting the Abraxans eat your trunk. Also, you have ink on your ear."
"Out, Pierre," Aurora snapped, pointing a finger toward the hallway.
"Just saying. The carriage is huge this year. Huge. Everyone's talking about some big trip."
Aurora paused, her hands midway through a knot. "What trip?"
"Don't know. Just heard Madame Maxime was arguing with the Ministry about 'travel insurance' or something." Pierre shrugged and disappeared back into the hall, yelling for their dog.
Aurora frowned. Normally, start-of-term was a predictable routine: fly to the palace, eat a six-course meal, and spend the next nine months trying to stay awake in Alchemy. "Travel insurance" sounded like they were going further than the French border.
She shoved her wand into her back pocket—a habit her mother hated—and grabbed the handles of her trunk. It was heavy, awkward, and the wheels squeaked on the hardwood floor as she dragged it toward the stairs.
"Coming!" she yelled, nearly tripping over her own feet.
She didn't care about "big trips" or school rumors yet. She just wanted to get through the morning without her parents making a scene in front of the rest of the school.
The wheels of Aurora's trunk hit the bottom step with a bone-jarring thwack.
"Aurora Rosalie Lopez, finally!" Her father was standing by the front door, checking his pocket watch for the fourth time in a minute. He looked polished, his own robes perfectly straight, which only made Aurora feel more like a walking disaster. "The Portkey window is narrow, and your mother is already at the carriage grounds."
"I'm here, Papa. I'm moving," Aurora panted, pushing a stray hair out of her face.
She followed him out onto the gravel driveway. The morning air was crisp, smelling of damp earth and the lavender bushes that lined their garden. It was the kind of quiet morning she usually loved, but today it felt rushed.
"Do you have your passport? Your wand? The letter from the Headmistress?" her father asked, walking at a pace that was nearly a jog.
"Yes, yes, and in my bag," she replied, hitching her satchel higher on her shoulder.
They reached the edge of the estate where a small group of other families had gathered. The atmosphere was a mix of tearful goodbyes and students trying to look cool in front of each other. Aurora spotted her best friend, Chloe, standing near a stack of luggage, looking remarkably put-together.
"Lopez! Over here!" Chloe waved, her Beauxbatons silk fluttering in the breeze.
Aurora dragged her trunk over, letting out a long breath. "Tell me I don't look as tired as I feel."
"You look like you fought a mountain troll and lost," Chloe said, though she was smiling. She leaned in closer, her voice dropping. "Have you heard the rumor? My dad says we aren't even staying at the palace this year. We're going north."
"North? Like, Paris?" Aurora asked, reaching into her bag for her lip balm.
"Further. Like, over-the-ocean north. Something about a tournament at an English school. Hogwarts, I think it's called."
Aurora stopped mid-swipe. "England? It's miserable there. It's all rain and boiled potatoes. Why would we go to England?"
"I don't know, but the seniors are freaking out about it. Apparently, the 'Boy Who Lived' goes there." Chloe wiggled her eyebrows. "Imagine the drama."
"I'd rather imagine a nap," Aurora muttered, though a small spark of curiosity flickered in her chest. She looked up as the faint sound of giant wings began to fill the air. The Beauxbatons carriage—a massive, powder-blue house on wheels—was descending through the clouds, pulled by a dozen winged Abraxans the size of elephants.
"Right," Aurora breathed, tightening her ponytail. "England. This should be a total disaster."
She gave her father a quick, tight hug. "See you at Christmas, Papa."
"Behave yourself, Aurora," he said, patting her shoulder. "And try to actually pass Alchemy this year."
"No promises!" she called back, already grabbing one end of her trunk to help Chloe lug theirs toward the boarding ramp.
"Scotland?" Aurora made a face. "That's where they keep that drafty castle, isn't it? Hogwarts?"
"Exactly. There's a tournament. Three schools, one winner, and a lot of dangerous magic," Chloe said, her eyes gleaming. "And apparently, the 'Boy Who Lived' is in our year. Imagine the look on his face when a bunch of Veela-blooded French girls walk into his Great Hall."
Aurora adjusted her bag, feeling a weird prickle of nerves. "He's probably just some scrawny kid who got lucky once. I'm more worried about the weather. I heard it rains so much there that the moss grows on your shoes."
"Well, at least the boys will be a distraction," Chloe joked, nodding toward a group of senior boys who were already staring at Aurora with that familiar, glazed-over look.
Aurora pulled her hood even lower. "I'd rather have a nap, Chloe. Seriously."
The ground shook as the massive, powder-blue carriage descended from the clouds, pulled by twelve giant, winged Abraxans. The wind from their wings sent Chloe's hair flying and nearly knocked Aurora over.
"Right," Aurora breathed, gripping the handle of her trunk. "Scotland. Let's go see if the food is actually as bad as they say."
She gave her father a final, tight hug, ignored the staring boys, and followed Chloe up the boarding ramp. She had no idea that "scrawny kid" in Scotland was about to become the most complicated part of her life.
