10 February, 1977. Hogwarts.

The Slytherin common room enveloped with its torpor the small groups of sixth-year students, intent on lazing about during a dark hour.

Among them was Alya. Having dropped out of the Divination class, the free moments between classes had increased that year and young Black took advantage of this to lounge around with her inseparable companions.

However, the amount of homework assigned by the professors had become so overwhelming over the months that those rare scraps of freedom had to be used to catch up on subjects and keep up with the syllabus.

It was a Thursday morning and the foursome, consisting of Alya, Philippa, Melyssa and Beth, were hunched over dusty volumes taken from the library in the common room, intent on tackling the Care of Magical Creatures assignment.

It was a typically wintry, cold and grey day; even the depths of the Black Lake seemed to have fallen victim to the frost that raged on the surface, so Alya and her friends had strategically lurked in the black leather sofas near the fireplace.

With composed tranquillity, young Black flipped through the pages of a large, old, dusty volume in search of the information she needed to finish her paper on the illicit trade in foreign monsters on British soil. Alya was so focused on reading the chapter describing the smuggling of Kappa, Japanese aquatic creatures popular in circus shows at the turn of the century, that she failed to notice Maynard Nott's presence behind her.

The first one to notice the boy, needless to say, was Philippa, who had had a well-known crush on the bumptious Captain of the Slytherin team for years now. The blonde looked at Alya in transfixion, indignant at the total indifference the algid and cold companion showed towards her coveted boyfriend. Philippa would have done anything to be in his place.

But Alya was so absorbed in her study that she noticed neither Philippa's silent glances nor Nott's insistent lingering behind her back. It was only when the latter gave a loud cough that Alya finally realised her presence.

"Forgive me Maynard. I didn't see you." the girl hastened to apologise, noticing Nott's frowning expression at being ignored. "I thought you had class." she added, looking puzzled.

"Skipped. The professor is sick." the boy explained, spicily. "Can we talk for a second in private?" he said, then, lowering his voice.

Alya agreed and rose from her seat, accompanied by Beth and Melyssa's mischievous hushed giggles. Philippa, on the other hand, was anything but smiling. She stared at young Black with an icy gaze, crackling with ill-concealed envy. In order to conceal her annoyance, the blonde glared at the parchment in front of her, feverishly lashing the air with the wielded quill.

Obviously, Alya was well aware of the hidden feelings felt by her companion, but she was not bothered by her discontent. On the contrary, knowing how much Philippa secretly yearned to be in her place gave her a perverse sense of superiority.

However, if anyone had taken a closer look at the real state of the relationship between the young Black and the handsome scion of House Nott, they would certainly have noticed some serious flaws. In the last period, above all, Alya had been so engrossed by the events that had befallen her and her family, first and foremost Sirius' escape, the news of which had by then spread throughout the school, that she had forgotten all about her commitments as a girlfriend. She had ended up neglecting, without even too much regret, the handsome Quidditch captain, who felt deeply offended at being ignored. His pride was hurt, to say the least.

Once they had secluded themselves in a sheltered corner of the common room, Maynard Nott aimed his impenetrable dark eyes at Alya's snow-white face, scrutinising her with visible reproach.

"I was hoping you'd come to watch practice last night," he exclaimed in a tone that betrayed expectation.

"I had to study. Besides, you know I don't love Quidditch as much as you do," the girl replied promptly, shrugging her shoulders. Impulsively, she crossed her arms over her chest, as if to place a defensive barrier between herself and the boy's demands.

"Well, at least we could have spent some time together once we're done on the pitch," insisted Nott, increasingly annoyed by the girl's coldness.

"I told you. I had to study." remarked Alya dryly.

Nott's sombre gaze lingered on her for a long time, expressing his disapproval.

"Is something wrong, Maynard?" asked Alya, pretending not to understand the reason for the boy's discontent.

"As a matter of fact, yes," he replied, dryly. "You've been keeping to yourself since we got back to Hogwarts after the holidays, not looking for me - it's almost like you've been avoiding me."

"I'm not avoiding you, Maynard," replied Alya, a little annoyed by that complaint.

"Is that so? In the last two months we must have met at most five times. You always have something better to do." grumbled Nott, with a sustained air.

"It's not what you think! I really have a lot on my mind right now: the studio, my family. I thought you could understand what the hell I'm going through! You all know what my stupid idiot brother has been up to! It's normal that I'm distracted and that my attention isn't focused only on you!" ranted Alya, not holding back the urge to raise her voice.

How selfish! thought the girl, grimly looking at the young Quidditch captain in front of her.

Nott, in response, snorted in annoyance at that excited reaction. However, he decided to put down the hatchet; he had not changed his mind about the fact that in his opinion Alya appeared a bit too standoffish and aloof as a girlfriend. But he insisted no further and diverted the conversation to another topic, one that was just as close to his heart.

"On Saturday the trip to Hogsmeade is planned. You could come there with me. It would be a good opportunity to spend some time together, just you and me." proposed the young scion, attempting to return to a more conciliatory tone of voice.

Alya, however, still sounded stiff.

"I don't know, Saturday is Regulus' birthday -" she mumbled, unconvinced.

"So? You will wish him a happy birthday once you return from Hogsmeade. Your dear little brother will survive even if you don't stay with him all day on his birthday. In fact, you'd be doing him a favour! I know he was planning to invite Cordelia Zabini." commented Nott, with cutting irony.

"What? My brother - what?" stammered Alya incredulously. She couldn't imagine Regulus flirting with girls.

"You know Alya, it's normal at his age to have certain interests, it's not like he's a child!" apostrophised Nott, frostily.

Alya sighed, resigned to the evidence that her little brother was also growing up. However, a shadow of disapproval fell over her face: the idea that Regulus was seeing some girl annoyed her, as if by doing so, he too might drift away from her.

Seeing her totally absorbed in thoughts that didn't concern him and still unwilling to broach the only subject he really cared about, Maynard Nott pulled out his last card.

"Listen, have it your way! You obviously don't feel like hanging out with me this weekend. It'll take me two seconds to find someone else! Your little blonde friend, for example, the Travers - " said the offended boy, in a cruel tone.

At those words, Alya's sense of competition was instantly aroused, bringing her to attention. She was already feeling nauseous at the thought of how Philippa would have wallowed in complacency if Nott had invited her to go out with him - even if only to spite Alya.

Maynard Nott was clever after all: he had managed to understand the weaknesses of the beautiful and unreachable Black well.

Alya impetuously approached the boy, staring with renewed determination into the victorious face of her devious boyfriend.

"There is no need for you to resort to such tricks," whispered the maiden, in a suddenly more caressing voice. "You know I love spending my time with you, Maynard. It's just that - this whole crazy situation with Sirius - it's distracted me from what's really important and I'm sorry." Alya spoke in a persuasive tone, batting her thick dark lashes, trying to soothe Nott's bruised ego.

She took another step closer, aiming confidently at his face.

"You'll see I'll make it up to you." she murmured finally, in a voice so low it came out as a delicate whisper. And sensual. Deliberately sensual.

The boy's resolute gaze seemed to yield to that unexpected, but desired, flattery and Alya seized the opportunity. She pressed an intense kiss to his lips, which invigorated the young scion's spirit.

Nott's mouth then arched into a satisfied smirk.

"Not a bad start," he murmured, in response to the kiss.

Alya also smiled, but without sincerity.

"See you Saturday, then." she concluded, in a flirtatious voice, before taking her leave of the boy and returning to her books and friends, who still hadn't stopped giggling mischievously.

***

Saturday 12 February, 1977. Hogsmeade.

As always, the village of Hogsmeade was packed with young wizards, invading the streets with cheerful and excited chatter; in particular, the third-year pupils, who were allowed to visit the village for the first time, wandered the main street in bewilderment and with a rapt look.

Alya and Nott, on the other hand, now completely accustomed to the ever-changing contours of the village, strolled around with a bored air, occasionally casting glances at the younger students. By now, everyone at Hogwarts considered them the most haughty and snobbish couple in the school.

Both dressed in their most elegant, impeccably black robes, they walked forward with serious, swaggering faces, casting disinterested glances at the shop windows that lined their path.

They made a quick trip to Schrivenshaft, the only place Alya found barely interesting, thanks to the vast assortment of writing feathers the shop offered. After refuelling, the young couple looked around, undecided what to do.

Alya feared for a moment that Nott would once again propose to her that she go to Madame Puddifoot's cloying tearoom. The girl wrinkled her nose in disgust at the very thought. But, fortunately for her, her pompous knight had other plans.

"I know they've opened a new little shop around here, a cheap little thing, one of those little shops that will only be open for a couple of months and then close its doors," said Maynard Nott, vaguely evasive.

"And why should we go there?" retorted Alya, in a tone that came out a little too sharply than she intended.

"I heard he also sells a few Quidditch items, of good quality, but at a low price, to keep up with the competition." explained Nott, thus revealing the real reason for his curiosity about a little shop, whose clientele certainly didn't include people of his rank.

Alya sighed in exasperation, rolling her eyes.

Quidditch, I should have known! she thought to herself.

But the day had already proved far too tedious and young Black had no desire to argue in the middle of a village swarming with students, hungry for gossip. She and Nott must have looked perfect and enviable in the eyes of everyone watching them: the glances that some girls still gave her, full of latent envy, were the only real reason for Alya to continue seeing that boy, who was becoming more and more unbearable with each passing day.

Therefore, the girl armed herself with all her spirit of endurance and set off with Nott towards the new shop.

In a back alley, amidst a series of anonymous dwellings, a garish sign stood out, announcing in large letters the name of the shop: The Wizard's Bazaar. Alya curled her lips, with an air of condescension. All that hanging enthusiasm seemed a bit excessive and pretentious to her, given the shop's meagre size. And judging by the items on display, even the merchandise did not seem able to stand up to the tough competition with the other now-famous shops in the village.

Maynard was right, Alya observed: that shop would not have survived even two months in a town like Hogsmeade.

However, perhaps because of the novelty, a handful of curious students gravitated to the entrance of the little shop, pondering the idea of going inside and taking a look at what the Bazaar offered to the public.

Alya and Nott mingled with the small crowd that was passing the shop's threshold.

As soon as they set foot inside the shop, the two boys were greeted by a buzzing flock of tiny owls, carved from walnut shells, fluttering merrily like gnats around the premises. The wooden shelves, rotten with woodworm, teemed with trinkets of all kinds, pretty to the eye, but totally useless: Lilliputian toys that depicted the most famous characters from the tales of Beedle the Bard, frames made of matches that held tiny portraits of illustrious magicians (who turned up their noses at least as much as Alya at the miserable end of their image), magic lanterns that hovered like crickets on their pedestals, squeaking insistently to be purchased.

A strong scent of incense permeated the air, which however could not cover the original stale and musty smell that lingered latent in that shop for years.

Alya's grey eyes darted judgmental and haughty over all the frivolous trinkets in her sight. She wondered how Maynard, disdainful and snobbish at least as much as she was, could take any interest in such a place; the answer, however, soon came. In no time at all, Nott had already eyeballed the small section displaying useful Quidditch paraphernalia, pointing at it like a predator, not bothering to leave Alya alone, at the mercy of the walnut-made owls that buzzed around her, babbling shrilly.

Young Black huffed for the umpteenth time on that dull day and walked indifferently towards the shop counter, attracted by a different kind of buzzing: a swarm of much smaller-than-normal golden whelps orbiting above a nameplate announcing: a finder-key chain. According to the caption, the glittering, fluttering product possessed the ability to find bunches of keys, forgotten in the most hidden places, and deliver them to their owners, right into their hands.

Alya grabbed one and looked at it, shaking her head in amusement.

I'll give one to Reg, she thought, sardonically.

She then turned to the clerk, a rather dim-looking young man juggling galleons and shillings behind the counter.

"Could you wrap this Golden Twitch for me, please?" she asked with cold politeness, handing the finder-key chain to the boy.

"Sure, Miss!" he replied, giving her a puzzled look, before disappearing into the backroom.

Alya heard someone beside her stifle a laugh. Instinctively she turned around and gave the laughing stranger an icy glare.

She gasped, dumbfounded.

James Potter stood boldly a few inches away from her, sporting an amused, mocking grin as he absent-mindedly flipped through a pamphlet resting on the counter.

For a moment, the Gryffindor and the Slytherin looked at each other, both with inexplicable expressions, while a silence laden with a strange tension palpably expanded between them.

It was Remus Lupin's voice that interrupted that bizarre instant of indecipherable gazes.

"Hey Prongs, did you find anything interesting?" asked the sickly-looking boy, turning to his friend.

"Nothing much, there's just junk here," replied James sourly, awkwardly placing the pamphlet back in the appropriate shelf.

"Then let's leave, the others are waiting for us outside. I can see Padfoot showing signs of impatience." sneered Lupin.

"He could come in too, if he doesn't feel like waiting outside in the cold!" commented James, also chuckling along with his companion. The latter, however, suddenly became serious and began speaking in a low voice.

"He's got his own good reasons for not going in," he muttered, giving a clear nod towards Alya, who had meanwhile turned around, giving Potter and Lupin her back, so as not to show that she was listening to them.

"Ah, I see," James said with an indecipherable sigh, pretending to have noticed the Slytherin's presence only then. "Padfoot is being a coward." he added, in a stern tone.

"Try to understand him. I think it's still early for him to face certain situations - he's too proud to admit it, but the wound is still fresh."

Alya's body became stiff as stone as she eavesdropped on the whispered conversation of the two Gryffindors. She understood perfectly well that they were referring to Sirius. Padfoot, Prongs - those names she wasn't going to forget so easily. She had heard them clearly during the strange dream she had had when she was still in Grimmauld Place after Christmas.

Young Black heard Potter sigh once more over his shoulder in surrender. He and Lupin then walked towards the door and exited the shop for good.

Alya remained motionless, as if petrified, staring blankly at an indefinite point in front of her, while thoughts at least as buzzing as the Snitch finder-key chains crowded her mind.

So that's how it is, she thought with grave bitterness. My brother despises me so much that he won't even enter a room if I'm in it. After all, she had to expect it. Sirius had always ignored her ever since they were at Hogwarts, and now that he was officially a renegade from the Black family, his disdain for everyone in the lineage from which he had been excluded must have seemed unbearable to him.

But it was not only this that tormented Alya's soul.

"Here is your Snitch finder-key chain, miss! Forgive the wait, I'm not familiar with Wrapping Spells," the voice of the young clerk, who had just emerged from the backroom, roused Alya from her thoughts.

Without saying a single word, the girl paid the price of the Golden Snitch and walked out of the shop.

Nott had not finished his shopping yet, so Alya waited for him, leaning her back against the cold wall of the building next to the little shop.

The crowd of onlookers had thinned out, only a small group of students, probably fourth-years at first glance, had remained to admire the small shop window, full of pretty trinkets from the Wizard's Bazaar.

After a handful of minutes, the elegant figure of Maynard Nott finally emerged from the threshold of the shop. Alya greeted him with a look full of disapproval. He hated waiting for others.

"About time! You took forever," she blurted harshly. "I don't like waiting for you, especially when Quidditch is involved. I thought you wanted to come to Hogsmeade to spend time with me." grumbled the girl, lying about the reason for her discontent.

Nott gave her a smirk, feeling wanted.

"Alya Merope Black is displeased," observed the Captain of the Slytherin Quidditch team, pretending to ponder the seriousness of her conduct.

He approached Alya, leaning towards her face.

"You're right. Apparently, I'm the one who has to make it up to you now," Maynard whispered, before drawing the girl to him and kissing her with ostentatious ardour.

Alya didn't retreat and played along. She kissed back just as passionately, aware of the fourth-year girls who were surely staring at them a few metres away. However, as always happened to her during their kisses, she felt absolutely no transport. Nothing. The passion she was displaying was at least as fake as the newly bought Golden Snitch.

Yet something made her waver. The whole time she was glued to Maynard Nott's lips, the memory of James Potter watching her with amusement and at the same time intense curiosity from the bazaar counter came vividly back to Alya's mind. And, for a moment, she wondered what would have happened if Remus Lupin had not intervened.