Monday 14th February, 1977. Hogwarts, Slytherin dungeon.
As usual, Alya woke up at dawn on that first day of the week, her mood decidedly low.
She descended the mahogany stairs and curled up in an armchair in the common room, pensively contemplating the dark depths of the Black Lake.
Alya remembered what had happened during the weekend in Hogsmeade. She was still angered by her brother Sirius' behaviour: it wasn't enough that he had ridiculed his entire family by running away from home. No, now he was even being squeamish, refusing to set foot inside a shop just to avoid running into his sister, or some other member of his hated family.
What was he afraid of? Did he think, perhaps, that Alya would talk to him, as if nothing had happened, even though they hadn't spoken to each other for years?
Sirius really is a coward! Alya noted, with clenched fists, recalling Potter's words in the Bazaar.
Another inexplicable wave of unease shook the girl's body.
James Potter...
The situation with the shaggy-haired Gryffindor as the protagonist was proving to be truly absurd in her eyes.
Ever since she had returned to Hogwarts after the Christmas break spent in Grimmauld Place, the young Black hadn't been able to avoid noticing the insistent glances that Sirius' arrogant best friend was constantly sneaking at her.
Often, she had caught him peering vehemently at her, either in the Great Hall while they were eating, or during the rare lessons shared by their respective Houses, e.g. Potions. More often than not, as soon as he was discovered by the Slytherin's cold grey eyes, Potter would lower his face again, pretending to be engaged in some other activity.
However, it happened, albeit rarely, that the hazel eyes of the Gryffindor would give in to the evidence of having been discovered, prolonging their gaze on Alya, as if expecting some kind of reaction from the girl.
But she remained impassive, displaying an unnatural indifference.
The fact was that she had no idea how to act. After the fateful dream - or, rather, vision - young Black had discovered what had really happened between Potter, Sirius, and Snape. She now also knew of Remus Lupin's true nature (and that Snape, despite everything, had been right all along). And of Potter's abilities as an Animagus, that is, his ability to transform into an animal.
But, above all, Alya knew that on that full moon night in December, she had saved James Potter's life, although at that moment, she was still completely unaware of the true identity of that dying deer.
It was certainly no small matter.
Therefore, Alya sensed the veiled gratitude behind the Gryffindor's strange looks.
And although she had a hard time admitting it even to herself, Alya felt the same for the boy with Potter.
According to what had appeared to her in her dream, James Potter hadn't hesitated for a moment to risk his life to safeguard the safety of his friends, to sacrifice it so that they would not be implicated in that terrible affair... so that Sirius would not be suspected, accused and kicked out of school... apparently, Potter was well determined to be loyal to him to his last breath....
With him, Sirius could truly consider himself safe.
And, for Alya, that was worth more than she herself was willing to admit.
However, the situation with Potter - and, in particular, with his insistent and incomprehensible glances - was becoming really exhausting. Alya just didn't know what to do and whenever she happened to find the bold Gryffindor nearby, she stiffened, unable to behave naturally.
Exasperated by her own confusion, the girl finally decided to pretend as if nothing had happened on that distant full moon night. As if she had never found out whose life she had actually saved.
But thoughts of James Potter weren't the only factors that made Alya's mood black that morning.
It was the 14th of February.
That is to say, Valentine's Day.
Alya had never given weight to the famous day dedicated to couples in love, perhaps because she had never bothered to have someone to celebrate it with.
However, this year she did have a boyfriend, but unlike all her girlfriends who were looking forward to the romantic attention and presents from their lovers, the young and cold Black was horrified at the idea of what she would have to face on this cloying day: languid glances, flowers, chocolates, cards with love phrases copied from who knows where - Alya grimaced in disgust; no, none of this was for her.
She hoped that Maynard would rise above such frivolities and avoid them with elegant haughtiness, but a little voice inside her suggested that the pompous scion of House Nott would certainly not miss the opportunity to show off his admirable and coveted gentlemanly gallantry, as perfect as it was fictitious and imposted, dedicated only to making people talk about him.
Alya wasn't to be outdone, and all day long she would have to flaunt her mask of perfect sweetheart. That was her role now, and she couldn't exempt herself if she wanted to keep her reputation high.
Distraught, Alya sighed, her eyes lost in the dark waters of the Black Lake.
At one point, she heard movements coming from the stairs. It was still very early, her companions wouldn't be awake for a while yet.
She stood on the alert. She was astonished to see Regulus's lanky figure emerge at that hour of the morning at the top of the stairs.
She watched him fondly as he descended the mahogany steps, his face sullen and still crumpled with sleep.
Unlike her, Regulus wasn't an early riser and hated waking up at dawn.
"Good morning Reg!" trilled Alya, announcing her presence to her brother. He joined her, melting lazily into an armchair beside her.
"How can you be so perky at this time of night?" he muttered, frowning.
"Morning, Reg. Night's long gone," Alya mocked him, joking. "How come you're up so early? Don't tell me Nott's organised another one of his ridiculous Quidditch practices!" she added fervently.
Regulus shook his head.
"No, no. I just needed to study. I couldn't finish all the chapters for Transfiguration over the weekend, so I'm taking advantage of the morning." the boy explained, widening his mouth in a wide yawn.
"Too busy cooing with Zabini?" prodded Alya, in a tone a little more sour than he had intended.
Regulus, for his part, squinted his eyes, assuming a guilty expression.
"How do you know about Cordelia?" he asked, slightly indignant.
"Oh. Already on a first name basis? And, anyway, Maynard told me," replied Alya, dryly. She still hadn't swallowed the news that her little brother was buzzing around the girls.
"Though I would have preferred to hear it from you. As your older sister, I take deep offence." she added, giving Regulus a harsh scowl. The boy shrugged, in a vain attempt to make himself small.
"It's just that - we've only been seeing each other for a short while. It's not an official thing," the boy tried to justify himself in front of his sister's unyielding gaze. He could tell a mile away that the conversation embarrassed him.
"It may not be serious, but you spent the whole Saturday in Hogsmeade," she reprimanded him, insistent.
"She insisted." murmured Regulus, increasingly uncomfortable.
Alya sighed and remained silent for a few seconds, as if assessing the gravity of the situation. Regulus, meanwhile, stared at his sister with a desolate expression, silently begging forgiveness for keeping the latest developments in his private life from her.
After all, he valued her approval.
Intensified by her brother's guilty look, Alya lowered the hatchet.
"Tell me a little about this Zabini. She's in your year, if I'm not mistaken - what's she like?" she asked, in a more welcoming voice.
"A type that mum and dad might like," replied Regulus promptly, with the same pride he would show in extolling the qualities of a broomstick. "She's pretty, of course. Maybe the prettiest fifth year. Intelligent. Posh. Rich. Thoroughbred, but that goes without saying. Her family origins are very old, almost as old as ours."
"She has good qualifications, that's for sure," Alya observed.
"His father is very friendly with the Lestranges. Every summer they are invited to spend a few days at their manor." added Regulus, as if that information confirmed the girl's worth.
A bitter, oblique smile appeared on Alya's face; now she was beginning to understand.
"Are you already planning to meet secretly this summer, at the Lestrange manor?" she poked him, with a veiledly mischievous expression. The boy's cheeks suddenly flamed.
"What are you thinking!" he mumbled, embarrassed.
"Well, Reg, I'd say you hit the nail on the head. I can already hear Mama's solemn commendations of your noble and distinguished conduct," chuckled his sister.
"Look who's talking! You are no less. Mother would immediately instruct Kreacher to prepare you a worthy young bride's dowry, if she learned that you and Nott were dating."
"Which is why I am careful not to reveal to Mum and Dad who I spend my time with. I'm too young to think about marriage!" huffed Alya, annoyed at the turn the conversation was taking. She was already agonising over the shenanigans she would have to endure that day because of a ridiculous holiday like Valentine's Day, let alone imagine herself as the beautiful little wife of a noble high-society magician.
"Anyway, I still haven't thanked you for the gift. I found it, how should I put it - nice." said Regulus, in a wry tone.
Alya sneered.
"Is that all? I thought receiving a Golden Twitch, able to bring the keys back into your hand, was one of your greatest desires!" commented the sister sardonically.
Regulus rolled his eyes in exasperation.
"Snitch, Alya! Its name is Snitch. When will you learn?" he scolded her with a stern look.
The girl giggled under her moustache. Regulus always got annoyed when she happened to mispronounce some Quidditch term, and she was amused to see him defending the sport he loved so much.
"Well, if you didn't appreciate my Twit - Snitch, it will mean that, as soon as the opportunity arises, I will accompany you on a shopping trip to London. Maybe over the Easter holidays. In Diagon Alley we will surely find something within your reach." proposed Alya, in an affectionate tone.
"Sounds like a great idea!" chirped Regulus, pleased. "And, maybe we could pop over to Knockturn Alley as well," asked the boy in reply.
Alya frowned slightly at that request, aware that behind her brother's curiosity to visit the famous district where shops and workshops devoted to the Dark Arts proliferated, lay the influence of their Death Eater cousin, Bellatrix.
The girl, however, didn't have time to express her reticence as handfuls of boys began to descend the mahogany stairs, about to start that new school day.
Alya and Regulus were soon joined by their classmates, with whom they then made their way to the Great Hall for breakfast.
The hall was already packed with students and the usual buzz of morning chatter feverishly flooded the room.
Alya sat down as usual next to Philippa, Melyssa and Beth. Regulus sat not far from the small group.
With a brief glance, not without a certain apprehension, the girl reviewed her table and noticed that among the seventh year Slytherins, Maynard Nott was missing from the roll call. Alya sighed with relief; she feared some full-throated tantrum from the scion. Nott must have been on his way to Slughorn at that moment to grab the right to use the Quidditch pitch for the whole week.
The students hadn't sunk their teeth into their respective slices of bread yet, when a flock of owls, barn owls and owlets invaded the Great Hall, delivering the daily mail.
Alya immediately saw the majestic and haughty figure of Godiric, the eagle owl who had visited her during the Christmas holidays.
Without realising it, the Slytherin observed him distractedly as he glided elegantly over the Gryffindor table in front of his master, James Potter, handing him a copy of the Daily Prophet.
Alya continued to stare at the owl, who scampered swiftly across the surface of the table, nimbly avoiding the various plates, goblets and baskets of fruit, until he reached Sirius, not far from Potter. Godric positioned himself right in front of his face and delivered a sharp peck to the nose of the young, unruly Black, who cursed loudly.
"Merlin's beard! James, what the hell is wrong with your bloody owl?" railed Sirius, massaging his aching nose, while amused laughter rose merrily from the table of Gryffindor students.
Alya had found herself smiling too, despite herself. Apparently, that bird knew how to keep a pact, she observed smugly.
However, the maiden had to lower her gaze promptly: James Potter had noticed that she was gazing insistently at his House table and was staring at her in turn with the unfailing indecipherable glance.
Alya immediately felt a wave of unease wash over her insides, her head in confusion.
Stop looking at me, Potter! she blurted harshly, inwardly.
It was the arrival of another bird of prey that distracted her from her sudden embarrassment. A barn owl had just landed somewhat awkwardly in front of her, wreaking havoc among the glasses and jugs.
He placed a beautiful red rose in her hands, accompanied by a note with fine silver filigree that stated the sender's initials: M. L. N.
Alya sighed bitterly. Maynard Lionel Nott. Although he was missing, the boy hadn't missed the opportunity to show off his rich boyfriend ways.
"Oooh, come on, Alya, open the letter!" encouraged her in chorus Melyssa and Beth, excited. Philippa pretended not to pay them any attention, continuing to eat her breakfast undaunted, her expression stiff, as if she had suddenly found herself chewing cardboard.
Alya unwrapped the card and read its contents.
For Alya Merope Black,
Happy Valentine's Day.
Maynard Lionel Nott.
So read the white paper, on which the letters were traced in an elaborate and impeccable cursive handwriting.
"Maynard Nott - what class! Alya, you are so lucky!" sighed Melyssa, dreamily.
Two seats away, Regulus chuckled.
"I already feel like I'm hearing mummy and daddy's encomiums of approval!" his brother mocked her, winking at the red rose. Alya, in response, grimaced at him.
Aware that she now had the eyes of all her companions on her, the vain young Black decided to play along and feigned her utter delight, bringing the scarlet flower to her nose to smell its perfume. But what really intoxicated her were the looks of envy and admiration from her companions.
"Better put it in a vase now. I don't want it to wilt. I'll make a quick trip to the dormitory. You guys go ahead and save me a spot in Spells," Alya announced in a practical tone, before getting up and heading out of the hall.
With a sly gesture, meanwhile, she shoved a couple of sultana sweets into her bag, sneaking them from the Slytherin table.
***
Monday 14th February, 1977. Hogwarts, Gryffindor Tower.
James Potter had slipped out of bed very early that Monday morning. Not wanting to wake his roommates and best friends ahead of time, the boy slipped quietly out of his dormitory and into the common room, still deserted. He perched himself on his favourite chair in front of the fireplace.
There, in complete contemplation of the flames and their crackling dance, James waited until it was time to go to the Great Hall for breakfast.
Unconsciously, he raised a hand and adjusted his glasses on his straight nose.
A thousand thoughts whirled frantically in his dishevelled head. One in particular had been tormenting him for weeks.
And it wasn't even a thought, really.
It was a name. A simple name, which had been lodged in his mind for a couple of months and didn't seem to have the slightest intention of leaving him alone.
Alya Merope Black.
The twin sister of Sirius, his best friend, who had unabashedly shown boundless contempt for her.
Sirius detested his sister, deeply. He had always called her the spitting image of his cruel mother, cold and attached only to reprehensible values of blood purity. To James, as to the others in their small and exclusive group, Sirius had also confided that he had caught Alya speaking Serpentese to a reptile when they were children. The fact that she was a reptile was, for him, overwhelming proof of his sister's hopelessly corrupt soul. Since that distant summer day, young Black had wanted nothing more to do with his twin sister.
James, in all those years, had supported his friend, agreeing with him that it was better to avoid the company of certain people, even if they were part of his own family.
Sirius detested his sister, deeply. He had always called her the spitting image of his cruel mother, cold and attached only to reprehensible values of blood purity. To James, as to the others in their small and exclusive group, Sirius had also confided that he had caught Alya speaking Parseltongue to a reptile when they were children. The fact that she was a Parselmouth was, for him, overwhelming proof of his sister's hopelessly corrupt soul. Since that distant summer day, young Black had wanted nothing more to do with his twin sister.
James, in all those years, had supported his friend, agreeing with him that it was better to avoid the company of certain people, even if they were part of his own family.
Based on Sirius' statements, James had always considered Alya Merope Black to be a snooty, haughty, arrogant and even somewhat evil witch, close to succumbing to the charms of the Dark Arts, following in the footsteps of many of his relatives and fellow House mates at Hogwarts. He himself had always kept his distance from the cold and mysterious Black, even refraining from casting spells on her, as he did with other Slytherins (Snape, foremost among them), precisely because he had noticed how annoyed his best friend got whenever his sister's name came up in any discourse.
Out of respect for Sirius, James had decided to ignore Alya Merope Black's presence, just as his friend did.
Yet, for the past few months, the boy's opinions had begun to waver. The image of the icy young Black saving his life, without hesitation, continued to nag at him. James was well aware of the fact that the girl could not possibly have been aware of who she had actually given aid to that night (no one, except for his three best friends, knew that James was able to turn into a large stag at will); the young Gryffindor had nonetheless been astonished at that gesture of spontaneous selflessness on the part of that Slytherin girl, who had always been known as one of the coldest and least capable of feeling empathy towards any other living being, in the whole of Hogwarts. And yet, she had not shied away from helping a poor, injured and defenceless animal.
The idea that Sirius's twin sister wasn't as treacherous and prone to evil as her brother had insisted on believing had begun to creep into James's mind.
However, there was one other element that had left the Gryffindor in disbelief on that night of the full moon, in which he had risked losing his skin.
The image of the ethereal, silvery stag that had trotted towards him, like a shining light of hope, still appeared sharp in his memories.
Alya's Patronus...
Was it possible that two people as diametrically opposed as he and the cold Slytherin could conjure up two such identical Patronuses?
Such a question had become a burning question for James.
After being saved, the young Gryffindor had begun to feel a particular curiosity towards his unlikely saviour.
On the one hand, he felt compelled to repay her in some way. On the other, he wished to make contact with Alya. To get to know her better, since now more than ever she appeared to him as a mysterious and enigmatic creature, as a fascinating mystery to be solved.
He had seized the opportunity during the winter holidays, when, one night after Christmas, he found Sirius, distraught with rage and with a trunk full of his stuff, planted in his garden asking for asylum and help.
Exasperated by the difficult family situation he was living in, Sirius had made the final decision to leave for good the house that was as narrow and terrible to him as a prison. That night, Sirius had given little explanation as to what had happened and what had prompted him to flee. He had merely mumbled something about his brother Regulus and the possibility that he wanted to become a Death Eater.
James, of course, hadn't shown the slightest hesitation in welcoming his best friend into his home; even his parents, Mr. and Mrs. Potter, were happy to accommodate young Black and give him a safe place to spend the night.
Although he had tried hard not to let it show, given his proud nature, Sirius must have suffered greatly in making that irredeemable decision. James knew him very well. Behind that rigid, granitic muteness lay feelings of regret and sadness that Sirius would never have admitted out loud.
After all, he had abandoned his family forever. And, as much as he hated it, such a separation would leave an indelible scar on his soul.
Without meaning to, James had found himself wondering what Alya was going through at that moment. After all, she was Sirius' twin sister and, like him, she was perhaps suffering silent pains, worrying about her brother's fate.
James had waited until Sirius had calmed down and fallen asleep in his room, before grabbing one of the cute singing cards, bought by Zonko the last time he had been in Hogsmeade.
After writing a few lines in which he reassured Alya that Sirius was safe at home and that he was fine in spite of everything, the young Gryffindor had instructed Godric, his handsome royal owl, to immediately deliver the letter to Alya Merope Black.
That was, therefore, James' first attempt to make contact with the enigmatic Black.
When Godric had returned, after a little more than an hour, the dishevelled boy was rather disappointed to see the owl return empty-footed. No note, no answer. Nothing.
Perhaps the cold, snooty girl really didn't care about Sirius' condition, and James called himself a fool for believing otherwise.
However, once back at Hogwarts, the Gryffindor couldn't help but notice a slight change in Alya Merope Black's behaviour. A barely perceptible change, no doubt, but one that represented a considerable achievement for him. Over the last few weeks, James had had the vague impression that Alya now also looked at him differently. Although it was impossible for him to define exactly how.
The Gryffindor's tormented lucubrations were interrupted by the sudden swarm of students who arose from the nooks and crannies of their dormitories.
"Prongs! How early bird you are today!" commented Sirius, noticing his friend slumped in the scarlet armchair. Behind him, his other two best friends, Remus Lupin and Peter Pettigrew, greeted him.
The quartet went to the Great Hall, as they did every morning.
As they walked through the long corridors of the castle, which separated them from the hall, James looked fondly at Sirius and Remus, who were walking ahead of him. He had told them nothing about what had happened inside the Shrieking Shack. The Gryffindor had lied to his friends, saying that he had managed to reach Snape in time, before reaching the secret entrance to the Shrieking Shack and that the situation had been resolved without harm. The only drawback had been that Snape had actually discovered Remus' wolfish identity, so James had to invent that the hated Slytherin companion had glimpsed him transformed at the end of the tunnel.
This information was enough to throw Remus into utter despair. And James didn't have the courage to reveal the truth to him. Knowing that he had bludgeoned one of his closest friends to death would have been unbearable for Lupin.
A part of himself, however, regretted that lie in no small part: in that way James couldn't tell Sirius what Alya had done in the Forbidden Forest and how, without delay, she had saved his life (and it was thanks to the Parseltongue).
James sighed loudly, in an attempt to swallow the sudden guilt that had risen in his throat.
"Are you worried about the McGonagall homework too?" asked Peter Pettigrew, who trotted up beside him, misunderstanding his friend's obvious concern.
"Uh? Ah, er no - I'm just a bit tired. I didn't get much sleep last night." replied James, spicily. The upcoming Transfiguration class was really the least of his worries.
Arriving in the Great Hall, Sirius, James, Remus and Peter headed straight for the Gryffindor table, striding over like the masters of the school and taking their usual seats.
Groups of girls were excitedly discussing possible gifts they might receive during the day. Among them, James noticed a head full of blond curls leaning out, looking in their direction, full of expectation.
It was Marlene McKinnon, with whom Sirius had been having a passionate, yet exhausting and quarrelsome tug-of-war with since the year before.
It was obvious that the blonde Gryffindor was expecting some romantic gesture from the charming Black, perhaps a flower or a piece of jewellery. James pitied her a little; he knew his best friend well and knew perfectly well that Sirius was not accustomed to such flirtations. In all likelihood, he must have even forgotten that this was Valentine's Day.
Sirius, in fact, took no notice of either Marlene McKinnon or her hopeful, insistent glances, which soon turned into cold, disappointed stares.
The blonde immediately dived into an excited conversation with her friends, including Lily Evans, who seemed to be trying to hide a tinge of exasperation on her face.
James laughed again in silence, but this time at himself. In previous years, on that very day dedicated to lovers, the Gryffindor had deployed the most original and amusing strategies, in order to show off in front of Evans and thus capture her attention. All to spite Snape, who had always watched them enviously from the distant Slytherin table. But the serious red-haired student had never played along, inevitably replying to him with scornful comments, disdaining him like a child in front of a plate of boiled vegetables.
But that year something had changed and James no longer felt so attracted to that kind of game.
Suddenly, the Great Hall was invaded by a flock of owls, tasked with delivering the morning mail.
Godric glided majestically across the table, amidst the dishes, delivering a copy of the Daily Prophet to his dishevelled master. James tossed him a piece of sultana biscuit to thank him for the service.
However, the owl didn't immediately hover to return to the school's Owlery; it pawed determinedly towards Sirius and, quite unexpectedly, pecked him violently on the nose.
"Merlin's beard! James, what the hell is wrong with your bloody owl?" ranted Sirius, caught off guard. Several of their companions burst out laughing.
"I just can't explain it, Paddy!" retorted his friend, stifling a laugh.
Between grins and mouthfuls, James absentmindedly laid his eyes on the distant Slytherin table, where he noticed that someone else was giggling with delight under their moustaches at the funny little scene Godric and Sirius had given them.
James smiled smugly, scrutinising Alya Merope Black's amused but discreet expression from a distance. The latter, however, immediately realised she was being watched by the Gryffindor boy and quickly reverted to her usual detached and unflappable frown, pretending to turn her attention elsewhere.
She is definitely a tough nut, James noted, taking a sip of his pumpkin juice.
Throughout the rest of breakfast, young Potter continued to cast furtive glances at his best friend's sister.
He didn't stop looking at her even when Alya received a bright red rose from an impish barn owl. Definitely a gift from Maynard Nott, the Captain of the Slytherin Quidditch Team. Everyone at school knew the two of them were dating.
James had never liked Nott, but that day, who knows why, he seemed even more unpleasant than usual.
The Gryffindor found himself snorting in annoyance as he watched Alya intent on sniffing, theatrically, the crimson-coloured flower she had just received as a gift.
What the hell do you see in Maynard Nott? thought James frowning, with a surge of annoyance that, inexplicably, had begun to linger in the pit of his stomach.
The hazel eyes of James continued to keep a watchful eye on Alya Merope Black's movements even as she hurriedly got up from her table, leaving the noisy Great Hall of Hogwarts in a hurry.
The Gryffindor clearly saw Alya's quick hand gesture as she hunted a pair of sultana cakes in her bag.
A victorious smile spread across James Potter's face.