1st September 1972. Hogwarts.
Alya walked at a brisk pace, swiftly weaving through the stream of people crowding the noisy King's Cross station.
Young Regulus, bundled up in his best suit, trotted faithfully by her side, flaunting an impish confidence of inscrutable gaze and austere expression. In this way, Regulus appeared as an exact copy, on a smaller scale, of his father Orion.
Although he did his best to conceal it, Alya sensed with certainty how agitated his younger brother was. The same agitation she had felt exactly a year earlier, when she was about to board the scarlet train that had taken her to Hogwarts for the first time.
Within hours, also Regulus would walk through the oak door that marked the entrance to the famous School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Regulus was undoubtedly flooded with the same mixed emotions that Alya had also felt the previous year: fear, excitement, desire to prove himself, and terror of failure mingled together creating a potent mixture of tension. Added to this was the heavy burden of carrying high the honor of the Black family, which his parents had carefully placed on his shoulders. Orion and Walburga had missed no opportunity during the past weeks to nag their youngest son with their warnings about how crucial it was to maintain behavior worthy of their noble name, and to remind him how much they expected of him. After the deep disappointment they had received from Sirius, their eldest son, who had been sorted into Gryffindor House (something of which the boy was stubbornly proud), all of Mr. and Mrs. Black's expectations had been poured on Regulus, elevating him to the sole male heir, worthy of carrying on the noble family name. The pressure of such responsibility loomed oppressively over the poor little boy, so inclined to bend to his parents' will and always eager to please them in every way.
Therefore, the anxiety that lingered in Regulus went far beyond the mere excitement that might precede a normal start of school. But young Blacks were not allowed to let their insecurities leak out, and like Alya before him, Regulus disguised the confusion of his soul with a proud muteness. He wore a false confidence, proceeding chest-high through the station's wide corridors as he pushed with some effort the trolley carrying the large trunk full of everything needed for the school of magic.
As in the previous year, the Muggles they passed along the way could not help but cast both Alya and Regulus (and the two parents behind them) puzzled glances filled with curiosity. However, none of the bizarre quartet seemed to mind the general astonishment that hovered around them. In fact, they gave the very impression that they were willing to ignore any non-magical individual who was around.
A few meters ahead, Sirius kept a calculated distance from the rest of his family. Although it was still summer, from his neck hung a long scarf embroidered in gold and red, the colors of Gryffindor. If one looked carefully at her cart and the contents on it, one could see the many trinkets depicting House coats of arms and colors. That scarlet and gold display of rampant lions was clearly intentional; every pin and sticker which adorned Sirius' trunk was a silent insult which he consciously hurled toward his own parents and their caste pride. Belonging to the Gryffindors, rather than the Slytherins (House to which all members of the Black family had been sorted) for Sirius had been a real personal victory: it meant being different from the rest of his family. For Orion and Walburga, on the other hand, it was confirmation of the fears they harbored about their eldest son, now considered the black sheep that threatened to disfigure the family's ancient nobility.
Walburga cast horrified glances at Sirius' trunk as often as it came under her glacial eyes, as if it were swarming with maggots and other creepy crawlies. Her lips were so tight that she looked as if she had swallowed a lemon. The same disgusted look turned, then, inexorably on Sirius, the ungrateful and degenerate heir who dared to mock the honor of his own blood with that insolent and childish attitude.
To the outside eye, in fact, Sirius did not even seem to belong to the rest of the group. The only thing the five Blacks had in common was the curmudgeonly attire and the austere, contemptuous expression that, for one reason or another, each of them exhibited.
At last, Alya caught a glimpse of tracks nine and ten and the ever-present secret passage concealed in the middle of the platform. Sirius, who in the meantime had quickened his pace even further, had already reached the enchanted barrier, and after looking around to verify that no Muggles were watching him, he positioned himself ready to cross it. Alya and Regulus, along with their parents, had not been in time to reach him that Sirius had already slipped past, disappearing inside into the solid wall. Even though her back was to her and she couldn't see her face, Alya sensed the cold disapproval emanating from her mother's icy eyes, perpetually focused on the rebellious son who always escaped her control.
A few seconds later, the rest of the family also crossed the magical barrier, appearing with a pop in front of the famous platform nine and three quarters, but they were enough for Sirius to put a safe distance between himself and the hated relatives. With an expression that flaunted false detachment, Regulus stretched his head, casting furtive glances past the blanket of heads swarming in front of him. Alya knew he was looking for Sirius. In vain. There was no sign of their brother, deliberately swallowed up by the crowd so as to escape the Orion's and Walburga's oppressive gazes.
Everything appeared exactly the same as the year before: the platform was packed with young wizards about to board the great bright red train, enveloped in the white steam that it puffed itself. Full and heavy trunks, cages with owls and owlets cooing their annoyance at too much noise, banged against each other as students crowded in front of the train's various entrances, determined to get the best seats.
Regulus had to listen to his father's long speech, who recommended that he must behave like a true Black and carry the family name high. On this occasion, the words sounded more weighty and loaded with expectation. But Regulus responded with a proud smile that prompted Orion to take his leave with a quiet pat on the shoulder. Regulus represented his hope for redemption from Sirius' inappropriate attitude.
Walburga remained silent, her gaze fixed on an undefined spot on the horizon. Her pupils glowed implacably with a remote menace, giving her the same expression as a predatory bird that had just glimpsed its prey camouflaged among stones and grass. Alya tried to follow the line drawn by her mother's gaze and noticed in the distance a black, tousled hair. She had seen it before. It was James Potter, Sirius's best friend, who was laughing boisterously along with the young Black. Alya couldn't help but feel a kind of admiring awe for her mother and her ability to spot her son in the blink of an eye in the midst of so many people. If Walburga had been equipped with wings and claws, Sirius would have had no chance.
The train let out a steamy snort, announcing its imminent departure. Regulus waved gracefully to his parents and walked toward the entrance. Alya, who was about to follow him, was blocked by her mother's cold hand, which grabbed her shoulder.
"Look after your brother. See to it that he doesn't be misled by bad influences." she whispered, once again casting a malevolent glance at the Potter's neck.
"Yes, mother." replied Alya in a firm voice. Inside, however, she was pervaded by shivers. In Walburga's voice she had caught the clear ominous undertone that made that recommendation inescapable.
Freed from her mother's iron grip, Alya reached Regulus, who waited for her uncertainly in the middle of the train corridor, clinging to his trunk like a castaway to a rock. Alya felt a surge of tenderness at seeing him so vulnerable.
"Come on, let's go find good seats," she said soothingly. Regulus nodded and followed his sister with renewed confidence.
As always, the long train corridor swarmed with chatty, giggling students. In every nook and cranny there was an air of trepidation and excitement. Alya proceeded swiftly and decisively, her gaze straight ahead. Regulus, on the other hand, didn't fail to peek inside each and every compartment he passed. He had not yet given up the search for his brother.
As if someone had heard his silent wish to meet his older brother, suddenly a sliding door snapped open. A large eagle owl, with brown plumage, fluttered menacingly above Alya's head, who instinctively drew her wand.
"Godric, come back here!" ordered a voice which Alya recognized with stridency.
James Potter had appeared in the doorway. As the large bird obediently glided over his shoulder, the disheveled boy's gaze caught Alya's presence.
"Good morning Black!" he sang in an annoyingly prissy voice. Alya answered him with the same icy, contemptuous look she had caught moments earlier in her mother's eyes.
James noticed Regulus behind her and a smirk appeared on his lips.
"Hey, Sirius, family reunion!" he sneered mockingly, nodding to the boy abandoned on the seat behind him.
Regulus' eyes glazed with fleeting hope, which soon turned to bitter disappointment.
"Forget about them, James. The last thing I want is to deal with my stupid siblings. Being with them all summer was enough for me!" huffed Sirius impatiently, without looking away from the window.
Obedient as his owl, James stepped aside, leaving the passageway clear for the two Blacks. With his oblique smirk still etched on his lips, he performed an obsequious bow of mockery as Alya darted ahead of him, deliberately ignoring his goliardic arrogance. All the while she hadn't stopped holding her wand firmly between her fingers. Regulus slipped behind her, imitating his sister's disdain. He turned one last glance at Sirius, who took to chatting blissfully with his friend. Confident, he laughed radiantly with a light in his eyes that neither Alya nor Regulus had ever seen in Grimmauld Place.
"Come on, Reg! Maybe there are still seats over there." urged Alya, in a flat voice.
As expected, they found a compartment still empty at the end of the long scarlet metal snake. They arranged their luggage in the special shelves and plunged into the comfortable seats. Through the window glass they could see the placid English countryside speeding by. Regulus' gray eyes rested sadly on that green expanse.
"Don't mind Sirius, Reg. When he's in the company of that Potter, he's always acting stupid -- more than usual, I mean," Alya said, sensing her brother's mood.
"He didn't even give us a glance. He treated us like total strangers," he muttered, asthmatically. "If Mom and Dad knew --" a sparkle of vengeance flashed in Regulus' pupils.
"Better not. I'd like to have a quiet holiday this year." cut Alya short, in a definitive tone."Remember the scene they served him at Christmas lunch last year?" she added, casting him a look of cruel complicity.
"And how could I forget! Mother did nothing but scream the whole lunch. She didn't even find time to eat. "A dirty Gryffindor in the family. Shame. Dishonor. My fathers must be turning over in their graves!"" laughed Regulus, in an imperious voice that sounded uncannily like Walburga's.
"She still hasn't forgiven him -- for being a Gryffindor."
"And she'll never forgive him, I'm afraid," agreed Alya, with a sigh.
"He looks pleased with this sorting, though. In my opinion, he was really hoping to be sent to Gryffindor." commented Regulus, returning to his disdain.
"Sirius was hoping for anything but Slytherin. Anything to make mum mad." said Alya with a shrug.
"He's such an idiot! Dishonoring us like this. He acts like he's not even part of the family anymore. All he did during the summer was sit in his room and polish his Gryffindor trinkets and write letters to his stupid friend. Then, he treats us like he doesn't even know us -- I can't stand him!" slowly Regulus spewed out his frustration.
"Whether he likes it or not, Sirius will always be a Black. And he will always be our brother. So will you, Reg, don't forget that." sentenced Alya, harshly.
"It almost sounds like you're defending him."
"I'm not defending Sirius. I'm defending our family. Toujours pur, toujours uni. Remember? We have to be united."
"United -- Sirius doesn't even try." grumbled Regulus.
"Then it's important that we, at least, set a good example," concluded Alya dryly.
Silence fell between Alya and Regulus for a while, he absorbed in his silent insults aimed at his elder brother, she apparently immersed in a school reading. Actually, even Alya was distracted by dark thoughts, all about Sirius and his insolent attitude. Things between the twins had not improved over the summer holidays; on the contrary, it seemed as if the distance between them was increasing every day. Sirius continued to despise her for knowing Parseltongue. Alya, for her part, after a few vain attempts at reconciliation, had thrown in the towel and merely ignored him. Right now, she could say she had a much stronger and deeper relationship with Kreacher than with her twin brother. But a hidden part of her soul didn't give up hope that at some future time, things between them might get better.
From behind the pages of the book, Alya spied Regulus, immersed in contemplation of the landscape that ran before his eyes. Sitting motionless, with his typical austere expression, so similar to his father's, he exuded a quiet pride which Alya had always envied him. In contrast to her and Sirius, who masked their insecurity or discomfort with the attitudes of a snooty daddy's girl in the case of Alya, or an insolent rebel in the case of Sirius, Regulus disguised his inner turmoil very well and maintained his innate tranquillity of spirit.
Never once Alya had seen him rage, as she often did with Sirius, or openly boast of his privileged position, as Alya did in front of her friends.
On every occasion, Regulus displayed a calm poise worthy of royalty. Moreover, he possessed the rare ability to convey his own serenity, however apparent, to those around him. His company was always welcome. No wonder he was so loved and adored by his parents. Quite the opposite of his older brother. Sirius could be compared to the fire which flares up suddenly and destroys everything, Regulus to the calm earth, firmly planted and rooted. Alya stood between them: like the deep waters of a black lake, she flaunted a false stillness, behind which lay a soul in turmoil.
Alya secretly thanked Regulus' long-awaited arrival at Hogwarts.
Although the young girl's first year of school had ended with excellent marks in all subjects - except Potions, for which she had an incurable revulsion - Alya had felt terribly lonely during her time at the castle, far from her family. In contrast to Sirius, who seemed to have finally found his own dimension, warmly and enthusiastically welcomed by his new schoolmates in Gryffindor House (and in particular by that arrogant James Potter), Alya had not managed to make friends in the same way as her twin brother. Slytherins did not have an open and expansive nature: distrustful and proud by nature, even with their own mates, they kept a certain distance, creating at best relationships based on cold admiration.
And Alya was no different. Although her relationship with her three roommates - Philippa Travers, Melyssa Bulstrode and Elizabeth Grey - had gradually strengthened, sharing most of her time with them, Alya could never consider them her true friends. Philippa was constantly competing with her, determined to surpass her both in school subjects and in terms of reputation; Melyssa, though pleasantly kind to everyone, was only loyal to Philippa, her friend since childhood; finally, Beth was an awkward, gregarious girl, struggling to make her way through this den of pureblood scions, defending with her claws the tiny safe corner she had carved out for herself among her new companions. Alya, for her part, enjoyed being unassailable, thanks to the advantages her surname and lineage gave her. It was no problem for her to act like a true snob and look down on others. However, flaunting the mask of the snooty scion every minute was exhausting for her in the long run.
Now that Regulus was with her, Alya finally felt more relaxed, with less pressure on her shoulders, since she could share the duty with her brother. Happy to share the journey with Regulus, Alya hadn't moved even a finger to look for her three Slytherin friends on the train.
For an excruciating moment, Alya imagined Regulus being sorted into Gryffindor, like Sirius, and a terror gripped her insides. But she quickly shook her head, banishing that absurd idea from her thoughts.
Regulus could not have gone to Gryffindor. He had the typical Slytherin characteristics: proud, distrustful and selective. Regulus would be with her, for better or worse, Alya told herself. In return, she would protect him and, as promised to her mother, ensure that he would distinguish himself as a worthy heir to the noble Black family. After all, he was the only brother who really loved her. And she loved him too.
Toujours pur, toujours uni she repeated to herself proudly inwardly, watching Regulus from behind her book.
***
The journey on the Hogwarts Express was coming to an end. The sun, illuminating the green expanses of grass, had given way to a darkened sky, awash with twilight. It appeared like a large, dark canvas, where the artist had painted with purple and bright pink brushstrokes, fading into a deep midnight blue, looming in the distance.
"We're nearly there. We'd better put our robes on," Alya announced to her brother, anticipating the train's metallic voice informing passengers of their imminent arrival.
Alya and Regulus quickly donned their uniforms: Alya proudly sported her House colours, green and silver; Regulus' still appeared bare, waiting for the Sorting result.
After a few minutes, the train slowed to a complete stop. The two brothers emerged and poured out, along with the huge horde of students, onto the platform shrouded in the darkness of night. Hagrid, the Hogwarts gigantic gamekeeper, was waiting for the frightened and bewildered first-year pupils, ready to accompany them on their usual crossing of the lake, with a panoramic view of the castle.
Alya parted from Regulus and joined some Slytherins she recognised from afar. They crossed a short path, which led them to a group of carriages waiting for them. The students quickly filled them and, once the doors were locked, the carriages set off on their own towards the castle, pulled by invisible animals (or some complicated spell, Alya assumed).
Swaying and wobbling with each stone trodden by the tall wheels, the carriages reached a large wrought-iron gate, which opened majestically onto the long avenue leading to the school. Alya leaned out the window to admire the imperious towers of the castle growing larger and larger as they approached. Hogwarts was always the same and kept its solemn style intact.
When her carriage came to a halt, Alya leapt down with all the other students. The sea of heads slipped into the building, through the oaken doorway. They were greeted by the spacious Entrance Hall, lit by the soft light of numerous torches. The crowd swarmed into the Great Hall, where the long tables of the four Houses were waiting for their students.
"Alya! Alya!"
Alya recognised Beth's round, curly head in the crowd, who was jumping up and down in the middle of the stream of students like a salmon, flailing to be noticed by her friend. Philippa and Melyssa were behind Beth, and were waving their hands, but with less effort.
Crawling through robes and cloaks, Alya caught up with them and together they took their places at the Slytherin table.
"We didn't find you on the train!" exclaimed Beth, regretfully.
"I was with my brother." replied Alya, in a neutral voice.
"With Sirius?" asked Melyssa, stunned.
"No, not with Sirius, of course!" blurted out Alya, rolling her eyes. "I was with Regulus, my younger brother. It's his first year at Hogwarts."
"Will he become one of ours or follow in your twin brother's footsteps?" asked Philippa, with a mocking smirk.
"He'll be a Slytherin for sure!" assured Alya, her heart swelling with hope and dread at the same time.
Suddenly, Professor McGonagall burst into the room. In her wake, the terrified group of first-year students walked hesitantly, under the curious gazes of the older pupils.
Alya immediately spotted Regulus, who stood out for the demeanour he displayed.
"There he is!" said Alya, pointing at young Black. A note of pride leaked from her voice.
"Of course you Blacks all look alike!" commented Philippa, carefully studying the little boy's features.
The new students crowded in front of the professors' table, turning their backs on them. Some of children lifted their noses to the ceiling, their eyes wide with astonishment, at the sight of the immense starry vault above them, a faithful reproduction of the night sky outside.
Professor McGonagall placed the famous Sorting Hat on a stool and, as always, it intoned its welcome rhymes.
Next, McGonagall began calling the names of the new students one by one, so that they were sorted into the right House by the hat.
"Black Regulus." echoed the teacher's powerful voice.
Alya held her breath in excitement. She watched her little brother stride briskly across the short distance to the stool, lift the magic hat and place it securely on his head. Alya had leaned so far over the edge of the bench on which she sat that she seemed to be about to take flight.
Two interminable seconds passed, then the hat claimed:
"SLYTHERIN!"
A roar of enthusiasm erupted among Slytherins table. Alya clapped her hands radiantly. Regulus put the hat off and reached the table of his new House with great stride. Black's proud gleam glittered in his grey eyes, so similar to those of his sister.
Alya's and Regulus' gazes met and a smile of complicit pride appeared on their lips at the same time. Toujours pur, toujours uni. Alya never stopped repeating those words in her mind, like a mantra.
"We have Black! We have another Black!" congratulated Melyssa and Beth, clapping enthusiastically.
"It couldn't be any other way! There's already a rotten apple in your family, isn't it Alya?" exclaimed Philippa mockingly, lifting her chin towards the long table on the opposite side of the room, the one reserved for the Gryffindors.
Alya glanced quickly in that direction and spotted Sirius chatting carelessly with two boys sitting next to him, one small and mouse-faced, the other thin and looking tired, with dark circles furrowing his face: they were Peter Pettigrew and Remus Lupin. Together with James Potter and Sirius, they formed an obnoxious foursome, wandering boldly around the school, inseparable.
Sirius looked as if he hadn't paid attention to the Sorting Ceremony at all, as if Regulus Black had been the name of a complete stranger. But Alya didn't miss the imperceptible glance he had cast towards them, looking at his little brother with an indecipherable expression.
Even Potter was now looking at the Slytherin table, pointing at Regulus, his usual oblique grin plastered on his face. He said something to Sirius, who replied, laughing with contempt. Alya felt herself flaming with hatred: how dare Potter make fun of Regulus? Who did he think he was?
Alya felt contempt sewing on her face. She watched for a few more seconds as Potter and Sirius giggled together. It was not only contempt that pervaded her. A latent envy puffed out, awakening within her. It was clear that Sirius considered James Potter more than just a friend. He saw in him the brother he had always wanted. Alya and Regulus, on the other hand, were no longer worth anything to Sirius.
Toujours pur, toujours uni. The motto which Alya was silently reciting in her mind became muffled, defeated by that ruthless reality.