26 December, 1976. Grimmauld Place.
Snow was falling thickly on Grimmauld Place, now completely covered by a vast, white blanket.
Alya watched the flakes twirling gracefully and dancing beyond the living room windows. Some cackling children were busy battling each other with snowballs. Flows of white steam flowed from their lively mouths, amid shouts and laughter.
"Have the Muggles targeted the wall of our house again?" asked Regulus boredly, as he absentmindedly read a copy of the Daily Prophet, sitting on one of the sofas.
"Not yet," replied his sister, closing the heavy dark curtains of the window. She reached her brother and sat down on the sofa opposite him. Beside them, a warm, crackling fire burned in the sumptuous maw of the fireplace. Ideal company for that cold, white day.
Alya looked at Regulus intent on devouring every word of the newspaper with a concentrated expression, bearing a striking resemblance to her father, Orion Black.
On the front page of the Gazette, the worried figure of the Prime Minister of Magic, Harold Minchum, proclaimed with silent lip movement the new decree on security at Azkaban, which he had issued.
"Increased the number of Dementors in Azkaban. Thus the Prime Minister responds to the advance of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named." read Alya aloud.
"A bit weak as a strategy. I don't think You-Know-Who is very afraid of the Dementors," the girl commented amused.
"Any strategy is weak against the Dark Lord." ruled Regulus solemnly, not concealing a note of admiration. "The Ministry should surrender to the evidence and stop opposing him. The Dark Lord has a broader vision for what concerns our world. He would give everyone what they truly deserve."
"You sound just like dad," Alya teased him, simulating a yawn.
"If you bothered to read a newspaper sometime, you'd know what I'm talking about," Regulus scolded her sternly.
"I don't like politics, Reg. Maybe even less than Quidditch," Alya said, stretching.
"We don't just talk politics here, Alya. It's about war. About revolution. About taking what is rightfully ours." exclaimed Regulus with intensity and fiery fury in his pupils. "The Dark Lord acts to honour the purity of our magical blood!"
"And now you sound like Bellatrix." laughed Alya "Personally, Reg, I find this great Dark Lord you so revere to be nothing more than a fanatic. Powerful, certainly. But still a fanatic."
"And you sound like Sirius," Regulus accused her, resentfully. Alya frowned. Being compared to her twin brother always made her nervous. But she didn't pay heed to Regulus's tirade; she had no desire to fight. There was already enough tension in the house.
"Maybe you're right after all. As I told you, I don't know anything about politics, you're the expert,' Alya sighed, with a shrug of her shoulders, trying to sport a conciliatory tone. Regulus seemed to relax.
"Speaking of Sirius, do you know where he went?" asked the girl.
"In his room. As always." replied his brother indifferently.
"Mom locked him up again?"
"No, no. She's given up on it by now, too. I would call it more of a spontaneous exile."
"Wise choice. At least they spare us their insult sessions," Alya commented, stretching her arms.
"But do you believe it?" asked Regulus, suddenly concerned.
"What are you referring to?"
"To what they say at school - that Sirius tried to take out Snape."
Alya shook her head.
"No. It's true that Sirius loathes Snape with all his heart, but he wouldn't go so far as to make such a gesture. It was a skirmish, that's all."
"But -" muttered Regulus, pondering gloomy assumptions.
"Reg, hear me out: I managed to swipe the letter Dumbledore sent to our parents..."
"How on earth did you do that?" interrupted Regulus incredulously.
"Mum had given it to Kreacher to throw away and he kept it in his lair as a trophy: he loves anything that can get our brother into trouble." replied Alya, hastily. "Anyway, Dumbledore in the letter only mentions a bad prank that thankfully went wrong, with no consequences. There is no mention of attempted murder. Snape must have inflated the story just to get Sirius and his clique of thugs expelled. He's always hated them," the girl explained to her brother, who listened to her with an unconvinced air.
Indeed, no matter how convincing she tried to sound, even Alya harboured doubts about what had really happened between Sirius and Snape. Despite the placid tones in which Dumbledore had written the letter, it was obvious that something serious had happened.
***
The sudden summoning of James Potter and Sirius Black by Dumbledore soon became a favourite subject of Hogwarts gossip during the run-up to Christmas break. It was rare for the headmaster to call students into his office in such a peremptory manner. Usually, punishments and action for acts against the school rules were the responsibility of the headmasters of the four Hogwarts Houses. Dumbledore's direct intervention revealed the seriousness of the situation Potter and Sirius had gotten themselves into.
Within the walls of the castle, the most disparate theories began to circulate about the alleged crime committed by the two brilliant Gryffindor students, many of which, in Alya's opinion, bordered on the ridiculous in how absurd they were.
The only thing certain was that Severus Snape also seemed to be involved in the affair. According to the rumours that were bouncing from mouth to mouth among the curious and scandal-hungry students, it seemed that the astute Slytherin, who had always been at war with the detestable Gryffindor couple, had openly denounced Sirius and Potter for deliberately making an attempt on his life. To this end, according to what Snape proclaimed, the two boys had involved another friend of theirs, Remus Lupin, who had turned out to be nothing less than a monstrous werewolf. According to Snape's statement, the prank set up by the two Gryffindors would certainly have ended in his death, if at the last second Potter had not panicked, pulling his Slytherin companion away from the now completely transformed Lupin.
Although this was the most popular and popular version among all Hogwarts students, no one seemed to take it seriously. Alya and the other Sepeverds had listened so many times to Snape's tirade and his suspicions about Lupin's supposed lycanthropy, that they had had it up to their necks. It had been years since the boy had accused the scruffy Gryffindor of such insinuation, but no one had ever given him any credit.
What Headmaster would have been so dastardly as to introduce a dangerous and potentially lethal werewolf into a school like Hogwarts? Not to mention that Remus Lupin had been attending the magical institute for six years now: someone would surely have noticed his hypothetical monthly transformations, which certainly could not have gone unnoticed.
Still, Alya had been seized by a suspicious shudder when she had heard Severus Snape's latest ramblings. She vividly remembered seeing him sneaking out of the Slytherin common room on the same night she had met Pettigrew in the Forbidden Forest. A shining full moon had been a silent spectator to all that had happened that night. But the girl was careful not to share that information with anyone. She didn't want to get into trouble.
However, no one ever found out what really happened in Dumbledore's office, nor what had happened between Potter, Sirius and Snape. Certainly something very serious, but no one at school gave the werewolf story any credence. Most of the pupils had come to believe that Snape had challenged Sirius Black and James Potter to a spell and had come out battered. Snape had never been very good at magical duels, while both Sirius and Potter were very capable duellists: they must have reduced him rather badly, thus increasing the Slytherin's frustration and anger. In revenge for the umpteenth humiliation he had suffered, Snape must have concocted that werewolf act just to see his hated enemies, who had tormented him mercilessly since first year, thrown out of the school.
But no matter what had happened, it was clear that the two Gryffindors had crossed a line that even the patient Headmaster had been unwilling to ignore.
On the very day that James Potter and Sirius Black were summoned to Dumbledore's office, two missives were sent urgently by owl: one was delivered to the Potter house, the second to Grimmauld Place number twelve. Dumbledore had wished to inform the two families about what had happened between the two students and their fellow Slytherin, expressing professional, yet personal, regret at the immature attitude shown by the two Gryffindors, who, despite constant reminders and warnings, did not seem inclined to respect the rules in force at school, let alone show respect towards peers they did not like. However, maintaining a polite and gentle tone, Dumbledore reprimanded both James and Sirius for haughty and vindictive behaviour, not befitting of two brilliant and capable wizards as they were and, therefore, no longer tolerable in the school environment. According to the wise headmaster, showing kindness even, and above all, towards those who do not appear likeable or pleasant, was a symptom of a nobility of spirit that was sorely lacking in the two young wizards at the moment.
Both letters ended, finally, with the grim warning that if the two boys did not suddenly demonstrate different and more appropriate behaviour, Dumbledore would be forced to proceed with the inevitable expulsion of James Potter and Sirius Black from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Collaboration from both families was therefore required, so that the two students could be directed towards more mature paths worthy of their magical potential, so that such an unfortunate measure would not be necessary.
The response wasn't long in coming.
A small group of Slytherins, including Alya, had managed to eavesdrop on a conversation between two Gryffindor students: they were excitedly gossiping about a Howler Potter had received a couple of days after his summons to the Headmaster's office. Apparently, the parents had shouted all their desperate disappointment at what had happened to their son, in front of an audience of astonished classmates in the Common Room of Gryffindor.
Many had expected a similar scenario for Sirius as well, but all that the young and rebellious Black had received from his noble and strict family had been total silence.
Those who knew the Black family well knew that that kind of response was the worst of condemnations, comparable to the tension-filled quiet that anticipates the most devastating storms.
Alya and Regulus sensed with bitter resignation that their return to Grimmauld Place would prove anything but quiet.
***
The quarrels and reproaches continued in the Black household for a whole day. Orion Black had purposely absented himself from his usual activities as a high society wizard, in order to stay at home and support his wife during the rant against Sirius.
Husband and wife alternated their angry voices in a succession of insults and rancorous phrases, expressing not disappointment, as the Potters had done with James, but their shame.
Neither Orion nor Walburga were the least bit shaken by what Sirius had done to his hated companion, Severus Snape: considering him an unworthy Mudblood, he didn't deserve their attention, nor an ounce of empathy. What had triggered the two parents' imperious ire was the expulsion warning.
To be expelled from a school as ancient and prestigious as Hogwarts was - at least by reputation, in Mr. Black's critical opinion - meant throwing away any possible career opportunities, and thus becoming an outcast, a reject from magical society. If things had taken a turn for the worse, Sirius might even have lost the right to possess a wand and, therefore, the right to use magic.
A wizard without a wand was as useless as a tree without roots and branches, Mrs Black had told her children countless times since they were children.
To put it simply, Sirius was in serious danger of becoming a Squib, like the miserable Hogwarts caretaker, Mr Filch. An unclean and disgusting being in Walburga and Orion's eyes. Alya tried to imagine her brother, old and wrinkled, with a sullen expression permanently encrusted on his face, running the length and breadth of the corridors of Hogwarts, with bucket and broom, muttering vulgar imprecations against young wizards. No, not even Sirius would have wished for an end like that.
Obviously, it was an inconceivable prospect for the pure and mighty House of Black, an indelible stain that would impregnate the entire lineage with its fetid stench of dishonour.
The word Squib sounded to Orion and Walburga's ears as dangerous and deadly as an Unforgiving Curse. They would have preferred a criminal son, a murderer, rather than an heir devoid of magical power.
Alya shuddered at the thought, but had the distinct feeling that her mother would not have hesitated to kill her own first-born son, lest she see her family's noble name smeared with shame.
"Insolent and ungrateful son!"
"Shame of your own blood!"
"Unworthy of the privileges you enjoy!"
The thundering, indignant voices of Orion and Walburga bounced fiercely off the stone walls of the gloomy kitchen, where Sirius was impassively receiving his verbal condemnation. The boy unblinkingly cashed in on each insult, with the composed indifference he had reserved for years for every member of his family.
Alya and Regulus had not been admitted to the furious spectacle, so they had holed up in the girl's room, keeping a good distance from the shouting; but even from there they could hear the furious swearing and all the nuances of anger spewed from their parents' mouths. Even Sirius' tacit, cold detachment was palpable from their hiding place.
"Sirius has really got into trouble this time," Alya commented, worried.
"I wonder what his intentions are - sometimes I think he does it on purpose, behaving like that." sighed Regulus, with a stiff and stern expression.
"Even going so far as to risk being expelled from Hogwarts?"
"To sling mud at us - why not? He hates us, Alya." insisted Regulus, unyielding.
Alya shook her head, unable to believe such a thing.
Meanwhile, a grave silence had suddenly descended on the house. The rant had to be over. The two siblings heard Sirius' determined footsteps echoing down the corridor, then fading as he made his way up to the floor of his room.
"Are they done yet?" commented Alya, with a smile devoid of mirth.
"I think our parents just lost their voices from screaming. And their hopes too." replied Regulus bitterly.
Sirius locked himself in his room and stayed there for days on end, never setting foot outside except to eat. Not even on Christmas Day did he dignify his family with his presence.
But that didn't stop the rest of the Blacks from celebrating: on Christmas Eve, Alya and Regulus gathered with their parents in the living room, decorated with sumptuous Christmas ornaments, the fruit of Kreacher's magical hands. The sumptuous fireplace, now perpetually lit due to the winter cold, was covered with sprigs of holly. In one corner of the room, behind the black-lacquered piano, stood a fir tree adorned with bright decorations, with tiny sparks of emerald green and silver light floating like fireflies around the tree. Thin candles of the same colours floated placidly above the heads of the four Blacks: Orion and Walburga had chosen those shades on purpose, to honour Alya and Regulus' loyal membership of Slytherin House. It was their way of communicating pride towards their two favourite sons.
A suave aroma of fir mixed with cedar and clove hovered in the room like a gentle caress. It was the scent of Christmas, according to Alya and Regulus.
Alya silently regretted her twin's absence: how long had it been since they had all spent Christmas together, like a real family, united and happy? A sad nostalgia took her, for a brief moment, to the distant memories of her childhood, when she, Sirius and Regulus still spent their Christmas days comparing the gifts they had received and secretly gorging themselves on Chocolate Frogs. Now, although Sirius was only three floors away, Alya had never felt him so distant. How much longer would she keep up that impassable wall of contempt?
Once the morose festivities and the usual unwrapping of presents were over, the family retreated to bed.
Alya waited until everyone was in their rooms, asleep, before sneaking out of her room. In her dressing gown, she reached the floor where her two brothers were sleeping and stopped in front of Sirius' locked door. She left a bag of Chocolate Frogs- Sirius had always loved them, even as a child - and a note on which she had written Merry Christmas, Sirius. A short, simple message, with the sole purpose of not making her brother feel isolated: despite everything that had happened, for Alya he was still part of her family.
***
Alya looked away from the headlines and pawing pictures wiggling on Regulus' newspaper pages. The girl's grey eyes wandered in the meanders of the fireplace, contemplating the sinuous movement of the flames.
A sudden pang seized her heart and bowels: the remains of the packet of Chocolate Frogs and the greeting card she had given Sirius lay helpless in the embers devoured by the fire. Apparently, Sirius had thrown them there, without even opening them. Alya's eyes burned with rage and defeat.
She swallowed her frustration and let out a resounding sigh; Regulus emerged from his concentrated reading and looked at Alya.
The boy noticed his sister's sad disappointment and looked at the fireplace: he saw the burnt corpse of the still-wrapped Chocolate Frog. With cold detachment, Regulus scrutinised a trail of melted chocolate that had smeared the inside wall of the cabinet: the vain and desperate attempt of one of the Chocolate Frog to leap and escape from the fiery jaws of the fireplace.
"Tergeo." he pronounced mercilessly, his wand pointed at the wall. The trail left by the chocolate frog vanished instantly, as if wiped clean by an invisible wipe. Regulus then turned to Alya with a reproachful look.
"Next time you have leftover Chocolate Frogs, give them to me," he commented caustically.
Alya didn't answer him. With her fingers, she began to drum nervously on the silvery surface of the pendant around her neck.
"Don't fret about Sirius," Regulus added, in a more sympathetic tone. "Didn't I already tell you that? It's best to leave him alone."
"But he's our brother." whispered Alya, distraught. "We can't pretend he doesn't exist, that he's not part of the family."
"The responsibility is his, Alya!" scoffed Regulus, as haughty as his father. "He's being a real traitor. And, anyway, he certainly doesn't consider us his family anymore. It's been a long time." he judged harshly.
Alya sighed again, clutching the pendant stubbornly. Perhaps, Regulus was right: Sirius really was a lost case. A part of her heart, however, refused to accept it.
Tired of brooding, Alya drew her wand and pointed it towards the desk.
"Accio book." she exclaimed. An elegantly bound volume with an emerald green cover flashed into her hands.
It was the gift he had received from his mother for Christmas. The best way to distract her mind, thought Alya, worn out by tumultuous thoughts about Sirius. The girl opened the book and, like her brother Regulus, sank into a regenerating read.
In the evening, the family gathered in the gloomy kitchen, lit only by torches and the fire in the fireplace. Sirius was there too, his sombre expression matching the gloomy surroundings. It was clear he longed to be elsewhere.
Alya glared at him grimly: she hadn't forgiven him for the way he had treated her gift.
The meal was eaten in religious silence, as was customary according to the rules of etiquette in the Black household. Only at the end of the meal did Orion open his mouth to speak.
He turned to Regulus, who sat faithfully beside him. For some time now, his father had begun to treat him differently, no longer considering him the least of his sons, but an equal, a young man worthy of his respect. Much more so than Sirius, in his eyes.
And Regulus reveled in those proud attentions. He adored his father, lived to please him. At the end of every meal, Mr Black had made a habit of questioning his admirable son, asking him what he thought about that or that subject. Mostly, the two would talk about politics.
"So, son, what are your opinions on the latest decisions taken by our Prime Minister?" asked Orion.
"I believe that the strategy implemented by Minchum, regarding the increase of Dementors in Azkaban, is merely an attempt to silence the discontent that reigns in the population. A desperate gesture to grab the consent of those blood-traitors." said Regulus in a grave voice, emphasising his contempt as he uttered the last insults.
The father nodded in satisfaction.
"Well said, son, well said! A weak action, from a weak man."
Even Walburga looked proudly at her son so like her husband, so worthy of bearing the family name. She and Alya listened to the conversation in silence, disgorging what remained of the dessert on their silver plates. Sirius ate and drank without uttering a word, looking straight ahead.
"Our Prime Minister is proving himself spineless. A wise man would know that the only right move would be to leave the Dark Lord free to act according to his high ideals. He would ally himself with him to fight that unclean rabble of half-breeds and bloodsuckers who rot our world. The Dark Lord seems to be the only one who understands how much our magical society needs clearout," Orion asserted firmly.
Alya saw Sirius grip the knife tightly in his hand. In his gaze flashed a fierce glow of anger.
"Druella wrote to me last week. She told me that Bellatrix and her husband would be delighted to host Regulus this summer, at the Lestrange Manor," Walburga interjected, announcing her sister-in-law's invitation with glee.
"I would gladly accept," said Regulus, with polite satisfaction.
"What a splendid idea! It would be an excellent opportunity to learn something really useful. The Lestrange are a powerful family, who have never been intimidated by the ministry's limits on the use of certain types of magic. You'd learn more from them in two months, than you would in seven years at that shambling school, run by Dumbledore. I still regret not sending you to Durmstrang." Orion sighed, with disappointment.
Sirius' hand was so tense that Alya could count the exact number of veins and nerves through his skin.
"Anyway, Rodolphus knows the most important people. Right people. Under his wing, you'd have no trouble getting ahead."
"You would have no difficulty becoming a lousy Death Eater," hissed Sirius, no longer able to hold back his disdain. "I'm sure the Lestrange would train you properly, like a nice little monkey."
Regulus glowered at him.
"Don't listen to your brother. He is incapable of understanding the meaning of the word honour." retorted Orion, downing an entire glass of Incendiary Rum in one gulp.
"Honour - there is no honour in becoming a filthy murderer." Sirius' voice became as cold as a blade.
"Power always comes with a price. The higher it is, the higher the glory. But what can a fool like you, who spends his time playing tricks and takes pleasure in slinging mud at his family's noble name, understand!" proclaimed Orion angrily, glaring at his eldest son. "Unlike you, Regulus has before him the opportunity to become a powerful wizard. To fight for the greater good."
"Killing innocent people is the price of the greater good? You disgust me, all of you and your ideas. It is not the purity of blood that makes a person noble!"
"The purity of our rare magic blood is the only thing that matters!" Walburga stood up, her eyes shining fiercely.
"SHUT UP, you filthy witch! SHUT UP!" hissed Sirius hatefully.
"Don't address our mother like that!" interjected Regulus.
"Why, my noble little brother, still running after our dear mother's skirts! How you like to wallow in our parents' humbug. I am sorry to disappoint you, Regulus, but there will be neither praise nor glory for you. If you go with Voldemort -"
"Do not mention his name, you are not worthy!" shouted Orion furiously. But Sirius ignored him, continuing to look Regulus fixedly in the eye.
Alya sat, helpless, watching the raging storm of resentment that was ravaging her family before her eyes.
"Listen carefully, little brother, there is still time to open your eyes and save yourself. Voldemort is not the great wizard you think he is. He is evil and ruthless. He cares as little for you as anyone else. He will not reward you for your services, as these two stupid old fanatics proclaim without knowing what is really going on out there. He will use you as a pawn for his own shady purposes. He will just exploit you. No glory. No honour. Only degradation. And despair."
For the first time in many years, a glimmer other than contempt crossed Sirius' sparkling eyes. As much as the tone of his voice had not abandoned its initial aggression, Alya had managed to perceive, in the depths of her twin brother's words, the cry of a plea.
And, judging by his stricken expression, Regulus must have heard it too.
A grave silence stretched across the dark kitchen. Orion and Walburga stood at the edge of the table, looking angry. Alya was dumbfounded, unable to choose which side to support. Part of herself suspected that Sirius was right. She herself had called Lord Voldemort a fanatic. But the girl dared not turn against her family. She remained silent, at the mercy of events.
Regulus kept a steady gaze on Sirius, who returned it with intense hope.
Then, Regulus interrupted those silent, endless seconds, turning his most resolute expression to his elder brother.
"I'm sorry Sirius, but I think you're the one who can't understand the situation. Our world needs a revolution. Our parents are right and they want what's best for me. For us."
Pride flared in Walburga's icy eyes. Orion smiled at his second son, satisfied.
The shadow of disappointment fell across Sirius' face.
"So, this is your choice?"
"Yes." nodded Regulus, grave.
"Then, I'm sorry for you. You will regret it, Reg." sentenced Sirius, in a sepulchral voice.
Regulus didn't answer, staring at Sirius with inscrutable eyes.
"Do not threaten your brother. As you see, you are not worthy to tie his shoes!" thundered Walburga, looming menacingly over Sirius, who had reverted to his usual contemptuous air.
"As far as I am concerned, from now on he is no longer my brother. I am ashamed to share my blood with a filth-"
Walburga didn't let him finish. Her hand, so elegant and tapered, glided over her son's face, sharp as a blade. She struck him with such violence that he turned away.
"How dare you? I am ashamed to have given my blood, my noble blood to a filthy impostor like you. To have carried a filthy traitor in my womb!" Walburga's voice lashed the air of the room like a knife, plunging relentlessly into Sirius's long-wounded soul.
"It repulses me to have you as a son!" hissed the woman, cleaving the fatal blow.
"So be it, then," Sirius whispered, keeping his gaze fixed and blank before him.
Then, he stood up sharply and walked out of the kitchen, leaving the rest of the family in the darkness of their silence.
***
That night, Alya was unable to sleep. How could she, after what she had witnessed at dinner? She tossed and turned in bed, agitated, disappointed in herself.
She had not been able to say a single word during the argument.
She shared Sirius' fear for Regulus' fate. Becoming a Death Eater, embracing the path set by Voldemort, would bring no good, she understood that too. Yet, she had kept quiet. The fear of being despised by her beloved parents had frozen her, paralysed her.
What a coward, she thought bitterly, as she choked back tears in her pillow.
Regulus and Sirius had decided which side they were on: two brothers, two opposing factions.
What would become of Sirius now? Now that he had openly declared who he would fight against?
Toujours uni, toujours uni, toujours uni Alya repeated softly, in the vain hope that those words, which had once made her feel so proud, might somehow heal the cracks which were inexorably tearing at the bonds of her family.
It was at that moment that Alya heard the sound of footsteps beyond her door. She stifled sobs and strained her ears. It could not be Kreacher, it was too late. At that time of night, the elf was surely curled up in his lair sleeping.
A horrible feeling invaded the girl's already troubled soul.
She leapt out of bed, grabbed her wand and left the room.
"Lumos." she whispered into the darkness. The tip of the wand illuminated the darkness. At the end of the corridor, Alya recognised the back of her twin brother. Beside him, a large trunk advanced, floating in the air. Alya's heart sank in anguish.
"Sirius!" she called to him, her voice still choked with tears.
The boy froze, but without turning around. He had not expected to be discovered.
"What are you doing?" insisted Alya, approaching cautiously. Who knows why, she had the impression that a sudden movement would set his brother off, like a wounded and frightened animal.
Sirius didn't answer immediately, undecided whether or not to turn towards his sister. His hated sister.
"I'm leaving," he said coldly. Finally, he turned around. The twins' eyes met: Alya's pleaded, Sirius' lingered on her unyielding.
"No, you can't!"
"You have made your choices. There is nothing left for me here." he sighed, betraying a latent sadness. Alya tried desperately to cling to it, the only foothold to keep him from leaving.
"It's your family, Sirius. We're your family." the girl grabbed him by the arm.
The gesture awakened the twin's fury.
"My family? Please - did you hear what our mother said? She no longer considers me her son and, I must admit, I don't wish to be either. I don't want to be part of your family any more," proclaimed Sirius in desperate anger, as he recoiled in disgust from Alya's grasp. He pushed her away forcefully, knocking her to the ground.
Sirius looked at her with the same contempt as when, years ago, he had found her in the woods talking to Koboro in Serpentese.
"You know, Alya, you should follow your dear little brother and join the Death Eaters too. I heard that Voldemort can talk to your snake friends, too. Who knows how many nice chats you would have!" he sneered at her in a cruel voice.
"Sirius, please"
"Goodbye."
Sirius turned his back to her and bolted for the front door. Alya scrambled back to her feet and tried to reach him before. But the unmistakable POP, the sound of someone dematerialising, revealed what Alya didn't have the courage to accept.
Sirius was gone. He had left Grimmauld Place number twelve. For good.
A/N:
Hi everyone! This chapter was quite challenging to write. Especially on an emotional level.
Let me know what you think in the comments ♡