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 7:
The Twin / La Jumelle
Alphonse lets out a long whistle of disdain, admiring the small and quaint village of Feldcroft before us.
"Now that's what I call a one-horse-town," he exclaims with a hint of sarcasm.
I roll my eyes and nudge him. "Be nice, will you?"
We stand at the top of a hill, looking down at the small village nestled in the valley below after catching a portkey in Hogsmeade earlier that morning. The houses are made of warm-colored stone with thatched roofs and small gardens filled with blooming flowers. Smoke curls lazily from the chimneys, indicating that the villagers are already up and about.
Surprisingly, convincing my twin brother to join me on this trip was a breeze. He simply refused to let me go alone, especially not with that "Sallow boy."
"Never in a million years," he kept insisting.
So, here we are, having caught a portkey that transported us to a sprawling meadow in the heart of the Scottish wilderness. The tall grass sways gently in the wind, and the crisp air fills our lungs.
"We'll need to walk the rest," Sebastian explains ignoring my brother's sarcastic comment, "that way!"
Sebastian leads us down a muddy road. The wind howls around us, sending a chill down my spine. As we walk, the fallen leaves dance around our feet, a colorful carpet under our boots. It's a typical Scottish autumn morning, with dark clouds hovering overhead, threatening to rain at any moment.
I can't help but shiver in my coat, feeling the dampness seeping through to my bones. Back in Beauxbatons, the air was warm and dry, and I never had to worry about the cold. Here, however, the humidity is so thick that it feels like I'm walking naked in the open. Sebastian seems unfazed by the cold, dressed only in a thin jumper. Meanwhile, I'm bundled up in multiple layers, my nose and cheeks turning red from the cold. I shake my head in disbelief, wondering how people in this region can be so acclimated to such harsh weather. Perhaps they have some sort of magical adaptation, or maybe they're just tougher than us pampered Beauxbatons students.
After a blustery 20-minute trek, we finally arrive at Feldcroft, a small and typical village. The village is nestled in a flat area surrounded by the green and orange hues of the autumnal mountains. As we approach, I notice a high castle sitting atop a hill in front of the village, looming imposingly. The village itself is charmingly rustic, with less than ten houses in sight. Sebastian leads us through the deserted streets.
"Feldcroft used to be a lot livelier, but since Ranrok's loyalists have been using this castle, everyone is keeping inside." He gestures towards the castle, which stands tall and strong, overlooking the village like a watchful guardian.
