19 March, 1977. Hogwarts, Slytherin common room.
Although a looming spring was attempting to combat the remnants of the icy winter with its timid warmth, in the dungeons of Hogwarts the damp, biting air persisted in torturing the parched bodies of those who dwelt there with uncomfortable chills.
To combat the frigid humidity, Alya had taken a seat on the black leather sofa, strictly in front of the sumptuous marble fireplace, where a blazing hot fire crackled.
Appeased by the warmth of the flames, the girl sat elegantly as her eyes devoured with dogged voracity the passages of a very complicated magical brew, illustrated by what had now become her inseparable reading companion: the Advanced Potions book.
At Alya's side was Regulus, also immersed in a mad study of Transfiguration and its innumerable definitions.
Ever since Slughorn had threatened Alya with exclusion from the Potions course, the two Black siblings had made a habit of spending every spare moment together to study; Regulus prepared for his O.W.L's with painstaking discipline, determined to achieve perfection in every subject, Alya toiled to catch up with the subject she hated the most.
At first, the youngest of the Blacks had candidly offered to help his sister with Potions, but Alya had flatly refused, urging him to concentrate exclusively on his final exams, which were far more important. Regulus had reluctantly given up on his generous intentions, ignoring the fact that a bespectacled and dishevelled Gryffindor had already come to the maiden's aid. An information that, for obvious reasons, Alya had carefully omitted.
With the exception of the two Black brothers, the Slytherin common room was looking rather empty. Most of their other mates were wandering around the castle, studying in the Great Hall or in the library. A few small groups of silver-green students were stationed within the hidden walls of the dungeons. Among them, seated at a table not far from the fireplace, Alya recognised the shady grunts of Avery and Mulciber. They were in the same year as her own, but the noble Black had always been careful not to associate with them: the two boys were part of that small category of Slytherins who were mediocre, but nevertheless eager to show off.
Recently, the unsavoury pair had welcomed another member, Severus Snape, with whom they delighted in inventing, through the use of Dark Magic, poisons and spells to be tested on the younger Muggleborns.
These tricks were non-lethal, but cruel enough to inflict a few hours of pain on the unfortunate. Some of their spells could even leave gruesome and everlasting marks, with the sole purpose of denigrating those they considered inferior by birth.
That the Muggle-borns, the mudbloods, shouldn't enjoy the privilege of being considered wizards and that there should be no place for them at Hogwarts was an idea more than shared by most Slytherins, yet the levity with which Mulciber, Avery and Snape used Dark Magic spells in the corridors of the school, annoyed their House mates almost as much as anyone else within the school.
A rather hypocritical disapproval when one considered the fact that almost all the families of the Sacred 28 had never abandoned their ancient connection with the Dark Arts, secretly guarding in their personal libraries ancient and forbidden manuscripts that they continued to study with profusion.
However, it was one thing to try one's hand at obscure spells from time to time, safe in one's lofty abodes and away from the prying eyes of those who condemned certain values, it was quite another to flaunt one's - mediocre - Black Magic skills in the midst of all the students and faculty of Hogwarts. Snape's, Avery's and Mulciber's little jokes against the Muggle-borns seemed to loudly announce their desire to become Lord Voldemort's next proselytes, the Death Eaters.
A goal also shared by many other power-seeking Slytherin scions, which they cautiously avoided manifesting, however, given the cumbersome presence of Albus Dumbledore.
The old and powerful wizard and headmaster of the school repudiated certain kinds of ideologies and magic, and had made his fight against the Dark Lord a personal bulwark. To openly manifest aspirations to become a Death Eater right under Dumbledore's watchful eyes was certainly not wise behaviour. Moreover, the attitude of Mulciber, Snape and Avery had only cast further shadow on Slytherin House, whose students were now being pointed at with greater disdain and circumspection by all their fellow students, and even by a good portion of the teaching staff.
From time to time, Alya cast disdainful glances at Mulciber and Avery, who mumbled excitedly above an open book under their noses. Although at that distance Alya could not see it, she still deduced that it was no ordinary school volume. In all likelihood it was one of the manuscripts stuffed with Dark Magic from the Malfoy's private library, kindly lent to Snape by Lucius. The two students had maintained a close correspondence even after the blond scion had finished his studies at Hogwarts.
However, at that moment in the common room, there was no sign of the boy with the hooked nose and greasy hair, and Alya wondered where he could possibly be.
As if in answer to her hidden question, the front door of the room suddenly opened. Severus Snape burst breathlessly into the room, the emerald light emanating from the black chandeliers floating in mid-air illuminating his yellowish, sweat-soaked face.
Although he looked like someone who had just escaped from danger, his inky black eyes vibrated with malignant satisfaction.
Alya glared at him as the boy reached his small group demanding information. Apparently, Snape had just completed one of their misdeeds, probably against some Muggleborn.
Alya clucked her tongue in disgust; she had never liked Snape. Caught up in an insane and morbid curiosity, the girl strained her ears tightly, her eyes motionless on the Potion book so as not to give the impression that she was eavesdropping. Thanks to the tomb-like silence that permeated the common room, even at that distance she could easily grasp what Snape was confiding to his mates.
"So, have you tried it?" urged Avery first, impatiently.
Alya saw Snape nod solemnly and a sinister grin colour his yellowish face.
"And I'd say it worked, judging by the blood dripping from your shoes," Mulciber noted, as he chuckled ruefully.
Blood? Alya shuddered.
"What filthy mudblood did you scar?" insisted Mulciber cruelly. The greenish light that glittered slowly on his pockmarked face gave him an even more devilish air.
"No mubloods, Mulciber... I caught a much bigger fish," replied Snape, in a disgustingly mellifluous voice.
Avery and Mulciber remained silent, urging their companion with their eyes to continue. Snape moistened his thin lips with his tongue, as if the name of the victim he was about to announce had the sweetest of flavours.
Alya also listened impatiently, her breath catching.
"Potter. The blood on my shoes is James Potter's," Snape finally said, speaking slowly, punctuating each word well.
Alya's heart skipped a beat.
"That nosy bastard Gryffindor scouted out my hiding place and attacked me. So I decided to cast the Sectumsempra spell on him. I didn't manage to disfigure his stupid, smug face, but the curse hit him full in the hand. Our beloved Quidditch Champion won't be able to catch a Snitch for quite a while,"
Alya sprang to her feet without even noticing. She kept her eyes fixed on the burning embers of the fireplace, her grey irises ablaze with fire and rage. And by a visceral fear, for James and for what Snape had inflicted upon him.
For a long, interminable second, the girl fought against the temptation to pour all the anger and eagerness for revenge that boiled in her chest onto Snape and his pathetic little group. It was Regulus' concerned voice that brought her to her senses.
"Alya, what's wrong with you?" he asked her puzzled. Absorbed as he was by the study, he had not paid the slightest heed to the gruesome speeches of Avery, Mulciber and Snape and probably hadn't even noticed their presence.
Alya recomposed herself, although she continued to stare at the scarlet flames swirling in front of her with such intensity that it seemed she wanted to extinguish them with her gaze alone.
"I must go to the library right away. I remembered I have to pick up an important book for Potions. I'll be absent for a while", she replied, in a monotone, careful not to betray any suspicious emotion.
Regulus looked at her more and more dumbfounded.
Unconcerned about her brother's stunned reaction, Alya strode towards the exit and left the Slytherin common room without adding anything else.
Her legs marched on their own, not at all intent on heading towards the Hogwarts library.
A growing anguish throbbed in her heart as a single goal swirled fiercely in her head: she had to find James.
***
19 March, 1977. Hogwarts, Hospital Wing.
James was bivouacking on one of the beds in the Hospital Wing of Hogwarts, after being dressed by Madame Pomfrey's skilled hands. With a hint of sadness, he continued to look at his bandaged but still sore limb.
It had only taken a few drops of dittamo to stop the bleeding and to close the two deep cuts that scarred the Gryffindor's wrist and palm. However, the boy had lost a lot of blood on the way from the point where Professor McGonagall had picked him up and practically led him by force to the Hospital Wing. Therefore, as a precaution, the experienced but hypersensitive healer had forced James to swallow a good dose of Restorative Potion, recommending that he lie still and quiet on the couch for at least twenty minutes until the remedy took effect.
James cautiously clenched his hand into a fist and slowly rotated his wrist; he winced, letting out a groan of pain.
"Madame Pomfrey told you not to strain it, Prongs. The wounds have yet to heal", Remus Lupin scolded him, sitting at one side of the cot. He, Peter and Sirius had promptly joined their friend in the Hospital Wing as soon as they had found out what had happened to him.
"This one just didn't need it! And tonight is extra Quidditch practice!" whined James, annoyed.
"I think Quidditch will have to wait for this one," Remus commented desolately. "You need to keep your hand at rest as much as possible. Those cuts were really deep! But the essence of Dittany has exceptional properties. In a couple of days it will be completely healed, you can be sure of that", he added, anticipating his friend already ready to protest.
"You'll get two good scars!" joked Sirius, on the other side of the cot.
"Which will give me an even more macho look," bragged James, snickering.
"Then you might get hit in the face next time!" joked Sirius in reply.
Peter Pettigrew, sitting next to Remus, emitted a chuckle, amused by the two friends' exchange of banter, even as he continued to cast horrified glances at James' hand, imagining who knows what gory scenarios beneath the bandage.
Remus also seemed visibly worried about his friend's condition. The only one who showed no sign of being upset was Sirius, who appeared completely relaxed, rocking sluggishly on the two back legs of the chair.
However, James hadn't missed the fierce gleam that had lit up in his best friend's grey irises, so similar to Alya's, an unmistakable sign of a Black intent on devising one of his own.
"So, you want to explain us what happened?" asked Remus out of the blue, taking on a very serious expression. A thin wrinkle had appeared between his freshly furrowed eyebrows, as he eyed James with apprehension mixed with suspicion.
"Nothing serious. I was on my way back from the library, when from the Moaning Myrtle's bathroom someone suddenly sympathetically lunged at me. It was a bad joke, that's all", the Gryffindor boy downplayed in a reassuring tone, purposely tampering with the reality of the facts.
However, Remus didn't seem particularly convinced by that hasty explanation.
"Did you see who did it?" he asked, continuing to stare at his friend insistently.
"No, Moony, I didn't see that," James replied dryly, returning Remus' impassive stare, poorly concealing the surge of annoyance that was rising up his gullet. He had repeated that version at least twenty times in the last hour; first to McGonagall, then to Madame Pomfrey and now to his best friends. He felt like he was being interrogated, almost as if he were a criminal.
But James didn't relent, despite the guilt that licked at the pit of his stomach. He was lying, it was true, but he had good reason. Given the turbulent past that had seen him, Sirius and Snape as protagonists, James had decided not to mention the slimy, greasy-haired Slytherin in his story. He feared Sirius' impulsive reaction if he found out Snape was involved. James wanted to keep him safe, away from the mess. As on him, the sword of Damocles hung over the head of the swaggering and hasty Black, threatening him with expulsion if he committed any more missteps.
Therefore, James agreed that declaring that he had been the victim of a lowly prank by an anonymous student would ensure greater safety for his friends.
Furthermore, there was another reason why the Gryffindor had kept Snape's guilt a secret. A reason he found it hard to admit even to himself.
"However, James, you are wrong when you say it was just a cheap prank. It looks like a spell full of Dark Magic", observed Remus in a sepulchral voice, after being silent for a long time. Peter jolted with an alarmed squeak, hearing the mention of forbidden magic. None of his companions, however, noticed the spark of greed that fleetingly crossed his mousy eyes as he looked again at James' bandaged hand.
Along with Remus, Sirius also grew gloomy.
"It must have been a Slytherin's misfire, no doubt," young Black burst out, with feigned disinterest.
"It could have been anyone, Padfoot. We cannot know. As I just told you, I didn't see who cast the curse," asserted James confidently, attempting to deflect his faithful mate's speculation.
"Of course, but only that bunch of snakes would go crazy using the Dark Arts. The circle of suspects narrows." replied Sirius calmly, but with the air of one preparing to engage in battle. "I say we have to make them understand who's in charge in this school. Give them a taste of their own medicine and..."
"Padfoot, please be reasonable! I really don't think you should pick a fight with the Slytherins on the basis of mere conjecture. All you would do is stir up an unnecessary hornet's nest. Besides, don't you think you've already got into enough trouble this year with pranks and revenge?" Remus rebuked him in exasperation, glaring at him.
Stung to the quick, Sirius fell silent. Resentful at being reprimanded as a disobedient child, the young and proud Black reacted by displaying a rigid muteness, crossing his arms in front of his chest and tightening his mouth. Seeing him in this state, James couldn't help but feel melancholy, noticing how Alya also had the same habit of cowering in offended silence whenever someone dared to point out a mistake or fault. James' gaze lingered instinctively on the door of the Hospital Wing, fantasising about romantic hypotheses of an unlikely Alya bursting desperately into the room and throwing herself into James' arms, sobbing and in tears of worry.
The Gryffindor boy had to recoil instantly, disconsolately admitting that Sirius's beautiful, unflappable twin would never succumb to such flippancy.
"Okay, Potter, you're free to go now," Madame Pomfrey announced abruptly, brusquely. "You'll have to come back here in the morning so that I can check the state of your wounds and change your bandages," the nurse recommended herself with a stern expression, before dismissing the quartet with a wave of her hand.
James, Sirius, Remus and Peter didn't ask twice and in a flash they were out the wooden door.
"What do you say we head back to the Tower? I think it's best to study in the common room for today..." suggested Remus, a few steps further on as they walked down the main corridor.
Sirius was about to retort, when something instantly silenced him. He froze suddenly, like a dog sniffing its prey. His grey eyes crackled with furious anger. The rest of the group also halted their steps behind their friend and James felt his own heart do a somersault. Alya was standing there, in the middle of the wide passage, her cheeks slightly flushed and her breathing heavy, with a hint of breathlessness, as if she had been running. Apparently, she had really been worried about him.
The Gryffindor didn't even have time to rejoice that his best friend's voice thundered angrily, bouncing off the stone walls that framed the corridor.
"You! What the hell are you doing here?" he growled aggressively at his sister.
The latter gave only a brief nod of hesitation, with the same expression as someone caught stealing. But she quickly recomposed herself, returning to the usual snooty snob frown she always sported in the Hogwarts crowd.
"I walk, Sirius." she replied quietly, as if she were explaining a truism to someone very stupid.
Her brother's eyes narrowed even more, filled with menace and suspicion.
"I don't buy it. Have you come to admire the work of your friends. Or to carry it out?" barked the furious Black at her, completely misunderstanding the twin's innocent intentions.
And without allowing her the luxury of insulting him in turn, Sirius swiftly slipped his hand into his robe, ready to pull out his wand and start a spell fight.
Peter, already totally terrified by Alya's presence, recoiled squeaking like a frightened rat, while Remus pleaded with his friend to leave it alone.
In the general disarray, James acted on impulse and imitated Sirius, quickly grabbing his wand, even though his intention was not to back his best mate.
Alya evidently noticed and anticipated them both. With surprising speed and far greater than that of her brother and Potter, she struck the two boys with a disarming spell. James felt his wand slip from his fingers and saw it fly far away, along with Sirius's.
The girl's wrist twirled again with swift elegance, pointing the weapon at her brother.
"Impedimenta!" she said, dropping Sirius to the floor.
Alya then slowly advanced a couple of steps, holding her wand raised against James and the others.
"If any of you move, I'll knock you out with a spell!" she threatened them coldly, her silver gaze lingering eloquently on the dishevelled Gryffindor.
Obediently, Potter, Remus and Peter - who kept being shaken by tremors of fear - remained motionless.
Alya pointed her wand at Sirius again, staring at him with an inscrutable expression as he gasped unintelligible expletives and recoiled as if imprisoned by invisible ropes.
"And you, my unworthy brother, don't you dare ever disturb my walks again!" she hissed glacially, before turning her back on everyone with haughty theatricality and disappearing into the shadows from which she had emerged.
Peter and Remus rushed over to help Sirius, while James stood still, looking bitterly at the spot where he had seen the slender figure of the young Black recede and vanish. For a couple of interminable moments, he fought the urge to run after her, but he did not.
James knew perfectly well that if he followed her, Alya wouldn't hesitate to hurl a merciless Stunning Spell at him.