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 6:
The Undercroft / L'Undercroft
It's hard to believe that two weeks have already passed since my arrival at Hogwarts. The days have been a blur of classes, homework, and trying to navigate the labyrinthine castle. I barely have time to catch my breath before I'm swept up in the next task at hand. Meanwhile, Alphonse seems to effortlessly excel in everything he does. His graceful demeanor and ease with which he tackles every lesson and homework is both impressive and at times envy-inducing. Thank god, he knows not to brag too much about it, or else I don't know what I would do to his pretty face.
I had naively believed that the reduction in the number of subjects would be a relief, but I couldn't have been more wrong. Despite having fewer classes to attend, the hours we spend in each one seem to stretch on for eternity. Every day brings new concepts and theories to master and I find myself already struggling to keep up. And then there's the homework assignments. What are these teachers on? The sheer volume of work is staggering - on the very first day, we were given three separate essays, each requiring at least 12 inches of parchment. It's as if the teachers are trying to drown us in work.
But the worst offender by far is our Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, Professor Hecat. She is notorious for her strict and unforgiving teaching style, and it seems like she takes pleasure in tormenting her students. I felt personally victimized by her cutting remarks and harsh criticism, and I quickly began to dread every DADA lesson with a sickening sense of anxiety.
As soon as we walked into Defense Against the Dark Arts on the first day, I knew I was in for a rough time. My heart sank as Professor Hecat called out my name, demanding my attention. In front of the entire class, she revealed that my spellcasting abilities were not up to par.
"That won't do," she scolded, her tone firm and unyielding. "You will have to catch up on your own time." I could feel the eyes of the other students on me, watching as I shrunk under her gaze.
Later, I discovered that she had sent an owl to Beauxbatons to obtain a list of all the spells I had previously learned and my proficiency at each one. She had clearly been disappointed by the results.
My cheeks burned with embarrassment as I tried to negotiate with the DADA teacher. The idea of being told in front of the whole class that my spell-casting proficiency wasn't up to par was humiliating enough, but the fact that she had already made up her mind was disheartening.
"I can try to catch up with the help of my brother?" I suggest, praying for a glimmer of hope that she would change her mind on me. But the teacher's expression remains cold and unyielding, cementing her place on my list of least favorite teachers.
