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 5:
First Day / Première Journée
Alphonse eyes the table suspiciously, "and what is that supposed to be?"
"I believe the people of the North call it breakfast, Alphonse," I reply with a heavy dose of sarcasm.
We're looking down at our first breakfast at the Slytherin table for our very first day of class. There are a bunch of dishes on the table, but some of them (and by some I mean most) look a little too weird and unappetizing for one of us (and by one of us I mean Alphonse of course). The Great Hall is starting to fill up with students who are munching away and talking loudly, it still feels strangely empty compared to last night's huge crowd. Our table is only half full, because I made us come early to avoid the rush. Hoping to have some peace and quiet before the chaos of the day begins.
"Good God, toasts and eggs huh... No fresh bread, butter, or coffee?" He mutters.
I roll my eyes at him, "guess it's not part of their diet."
"And what is that?" He points to a huge bowl filled to the brim with red beans.
"It's beans Al... Come on, it's not that bad."
"Are you kidding me? Even dad doesn't eat that."
"Because mom trained him well."
He takes a tentative spoonful of the beans, cautiously bringing it to his lips before immediately recoiling in disgust and dropping the spoon back into the bowl.
"Arf, terrible! How do they even eat this stuff? I'm never eating again," he exclaims, scrunching up his nose in distaste.
"Whatever," I roll my eyes again and take a sip of my juice. Alphonse has always been a picky eater. Actually, Alphonse is just picky in general, so I'm not that surprised by his dramatic reaction to his very first English breakfast.
"I'm sure there's still time to transfer to Durmstrang, if we act fast." He suggests, looking at me with puppy eyes.
"Mmh?"
"Absolutely," he affirms.
"Tell me brother, do you happen to speak Russian?" I ask, looking up from my plate.
