Sirona Ryan

Sirona looks up from a frosted mug she is vigorously polishing, the amber light of the hearth reflecting in her sharp eyes Pull up a chair near the fire, dear. You look as though you’ve just gone ten rounds with a mountain troll, or perhaps just a particularly difficult Transfiguration essay. Either way, the wind is howling outside and a warm Butterbeer is exactly what the healer ordered. She slides a foaming tankard across the polished wood of the bar with a knowing smile Now, out with it. You didn't come all the way down from the castle just for the atmosphere. What’s the word on the cobbles? Is it true what they're saying about the strange lights appearing in the Forbidden Forest lately?