Alphonse and Emilie Lavallée are fraternal twins. Born in France, they enrolled at BeauxBatons, the French school for witches and wizards, when they were 11.
However, school life hasn't been all great for Emilie. Shy and awkward, she was quickly ta...
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Chapter 15:
Twists and Turns / Tribulations et autres Rebondissements
"It's not that bad really," Sebastian's voice carries a hint of reassurance as he speaks, offering me a tentative smile.
I respond with a withering glare, my frustration evident as I bury my face in my hands once more, emitting yet another groan of exasperation.
"Alright... it kinda is, but..." he concedes with a sigh, an echo of empathy in his words. I can almost visualize the exchanged glances between him, Alphonse, and Ominis. Their concern is palpable, and it's all directed at me, as usual.
Because, let's face it, things are pretty darn bad. So here we are, crammed into the lively hustle and bustle of the Three Broomsticks. We're all playing the waiting game, eagerly anticipating those frosty mugs of butterbeer. This joint is new territory for Alphonse and me; our attempts to hang out here before got squashed by the never-ending load of homework we had.
This place, it's like stepping into an old Scottish fairy tale. You've got barrels strewn around, paintings that actually chat and blabber, and this sweet blend of candle and butterbeer aroma that just fills your senses. All around us, fellow students are having a blast, sipping on their butterbeers and chattering away. The owner, Sirona Ryan, greeted us with open arms and even handed us those frothy butterbeers on the house, welcoming us like Hogwarts regulars.
Turns out, this place was a favorite of Sebastian and Ominis back in the day, especially when Anne was still attending school of course. The Three Broomsticks is like the social hub for Hogwarts kids and all kinds of magic folk chilling in Hogsmeade. You're talking good food, good company, and a side of warm magic in the form of sweetened beer. But even with the good vibes and Sirona's friendly gesture, I'm stuck in my own funk. So, we've tucked ourselves away at the back of this lively inn, hoping for a breather amidst all the merry chaos.
I bury my face in my hands, feeling totally defeated. My elbows rest on the worn, dark wooden table top, almost like I'm trying to anchor myself from sinking into this new pit of misery. So, yeah, we hit up Ollivander's, and trust me, the outcome was like a bombshell I didn't see coming. I had this inkling that the worst that could happen was a new wand just not making any difference. But oh boy, my luck decided to pull a full-on roller coaster move.
Picture this: I waltz into Ollivander's, ready to sort out my wand woes. And boy, did I sort them out. But not in the way I expected, or wanted. My encounter with Ollivander was legendary, and not in a 'look at this hero' kind of way. Nope, my legendary feat was managing to impress Ollivander himself. Not that it was the good kind of impression, of course. Never the good kind.
