Back to Hogwarts

1 September 1976. King's Cross Station.

Platform nine and three quarters was swarming with young wizards, as it always did on the first of September every year. Parents and relatives, as anxious as their children, were mouthing recommendations, mixed with hugs and tears of farewell. A great hubbub hovered around the platform, while the placid scarlet train waited patiently, stationary on the tracks.

The Hogwarts Express puffed with a sonorous whistle of white steam, announcing its imminent departure. Those who had lingered in emotional farewells began to crowd feverishly at the carriage doors: seen from above, the scene resembled a great disorganised anthill.

Alya accidentally inhaled a puff of smoke spewed from the train and coughed annoyedly as she climbed onto the imposing steel serpent, together with her brother Regulus. The two young Blacks, who had grown conspicuously over the summer, abandoning any remaining childish semblance, set off in search of an empty compartment to sit in, dragging their heavy school trunks behind them, not without effort. The two siblings had parted from their parents with the cold, detached leave-taking that characterised their imperious family: a glance of understanding and an admonition to keep up the honour of the lineage during the school year. No hugs or kisses, no sign of emotion. Sirius, on the other hand, had vanished a second after crossing the passageway that separated the magic platform from the common Muggle world. His only goal was to immediately reach his little group of Gryffindor friends, determined to put as much distance as possible between him and the hated family. That little band of hoodlums, of which Sirius was proudly a member, represented for him the only corner of happy freedom.

As she walked briskly through the train corridor, Alya imagined, with a certain amount of annoyance, her twin brother locked in some nearby compartment, laughing and joking with his obnoxious little friends, laughing his head off as he invented colourful insults to be addressed to his mother and father (and, in all likelihood, to her and Regulus as well).

Alya and Regulus hurried to the head of the train, an area the Slytherins had made a habit of occupying during their long journey to Hogwarts. The Black brothers proceeded swiftly, displaying their haughty expressions of snobbish scions and glaring at all those - particularly the younger students, and even more hostilely those from Gryffindor - who stood in their way. It was clear how superior and worthy of a certain reverence they considered themselves. Regulus, moreover, had one more reason to demand respect from his younger pupils: he had been appointed prefect of Slytherin House and was eager to show off the privileges that position afforded him. He was already wearing his school uniform, with the gleaming prefect pin carefully - and conspicuously - pinned to his chest. Another happy event welcomed with honour in the Black household, after Alya's excellent O.W.L.s results. Orion and Walburga didn't fail to show all their pride towards their second son, calling him their favourite child, the only one truly worthy of carrying on the noble family name.

As Alya and Regulus walked, the compartments became more and more crowded with noisy and trembling youngsters. Finding an empty carriage would have been a difficult task.

Suddenly, one of the sliding doors which lined the long corridor snapped open and a girl with thick, fiery red hair appeared in front of the two young Blacks, who froze suddenly. It was Lily Evans. She and Alya had exchanged some less than kind words in the school bathroom reserved for prefects the previous school year. An encounter that had ensured Alya's successful completion of her otherwise unsuccessful Potions exam. Long-concealed feelings and a considered revenge for an unfairly received punishment had been the main subject of their secret conversation (which Regulus had learned about thanks to Alya).

When Lily Evans' bright green eyes met Alya's glittering grey ones, an electricity charged with fervent fury suddenly permeated the air around the two girls. Exactly like Alya, Lily hadn't forgotten their encounter either. A few seconds of heavy silence stretched on like centuries, before Alya decided to interrupt it with a taunting joke.

"Evans! What a pleasant surprise." the Slytherin girl exclaimed with false glee and a scornful grin painted on her face.

Lily's face, on the other hand, couldn't have looked more rigid and hostile.

"Far from pleasant, as far as I'm concerned," hissed the Gryffindor student frostily, casting a venomous emerald glance at Alya, who returned it with combative rancour.

"Move over, you're in the way!" blurted Regulus disdainfully. His eyes, as grey and icy as his sister's, studied Lily Evans' figure from top to bottom, observing with visible disgust the Muggle robes the girl was wearing. A completely deliberate gesture, with the sole purpose of mortifying her and making her feel inferior for who she was. Lily immediately understood what Regulus was thinking and was on the verge of retorting, answering him in kind. However, she kept silent. With maturity, Lily Evans shrugged, leaving the way clear for the two snooty brother and sister to pass, but failed to hold back, taunting them with a ridiculously emphasised bow.

"Your grace!" she added with swaggering contempt, before turning on her heel and disappearing into another compartment full of chattering girls.

"Would that be Lily Evans, the mudblood infatuated with our brother Sirius?" asked Regulus frostily, turning only for a second to direct a pitiless glance at the spot where Lily stood a moment before.

"Precisely." confirmed Alya.

Regulus clucked his tongue indignantly.

"Our parents are right: Hogwarts is losing its value as a School of Magic. It should be illegal to consider certain rabble wizards!"

"You sound like Mum. Not for nothing are you her favourite son!" Alya teased him affectionately.

"Look who's talking! You were praised for cheating in an exam this summer!" laughed Regulus, with a mocking smile.

"I didn't cheat, I defended our family honour. That's different," Alya corrected him, amused.

"Anyway, whatever you did to Evans, she deserved it," Regulus concluded coldly.

Finally they found an empty compartment, right towards the head of the train. All around them they were surrounded by other Slytherin students. Alya and Regulus quickly slipped into the carriage, laboriously hoisting the trunks over their heads, into the special shelves. After that, they plunged into the comfortable padded seats: Regulus began humming his usual French tune, Alya, on the other hand, began fiddling feverishly with the heavy silver locket around her neck. Her fingers touched the inlay, which resembled a branch, engraved on the surface.

"Mum's necklace -" commented Regulus, looking at the pendant.

Alya nodded proudly. Her mother had given it to her just that morning, before heading to King's Cross station. Walburga Black had entered Alya's room while the girl was getting ready, slipped the necklace off her neck and then adorned her daughter's with the precious silver jewel, so dear to her.

***

Ever since she was a child, Alya had been very curious about her mother's pendant, asking endless questions about its origins, why it was so important to Walburga and, above all, what it contained. It must have been something infinitely valuable since Walburga never took it off. Alya had even speculated that she did not even take it off to go to sleep.

That morning, Alya had received the answers to the questions that had nagged her so much during her childhood. She had been more than a little surprised when Mrs Black's fingers had encircled her neck with the silver chain. When the girl had asked her mother the reason for that gesture, the woman had enigmatically replied "For your Patronus."

During the summer months, in fact, Alya had practised with her mother to learn the complicated protection spell, called Patronus, succeeding, not without innumerable efforts and a good dose of discouragement, to conjure one in its full form. From Alya's magic wand had sprung the silvery image of a majestic male deer, of which the girl was particularly proud. Walburga, too, had expressed all her proud admiration, not only for the talent shown by her daughter, who had once again shown herself worthy of belonging to the mighty House of Black, but also - and above all - for the Patronus himself whom she had conjured. Almost immediately after her daughter's enchantment, Walburga had raised her wand, performing the same magic. To her amazement, Alya had seen a second stag materialise before her eyes, as mighty as her own, which had galloped to stand beside the first.

"You are worthy to be my daughter," the algid and austere Mrs Black had commented with ill-concealed emotion. On that occasion, Walburga had explained that, in the distant past, women belonging to the Black family had been able to conjure patrons with the same features. Apparently, the male deer represented the essence of the role these women had played within the clan: the deer was shown as a proud pack leader, whose task was to protect his group, his clan and, in this case, his family. However, as far as Walburga was aware, it had been centuries since the stag had appeared from the wands of their descendants. Only Walburga had shown herself worthy enough to carry on such an ancient tradition, before Alya too showed the same magical inclination.

"Stags are majestic creatures, with regal bearing. They are strongly loyal to their herd, with a strong instinct for protection. They aren't predators, but know how to be lethal if threatened, indomitable warriors, capable of inflicting the worst suffering on their enemies, mercilessly plunging their sharpened antlers into their guts. The stag is proud: if it must die, it will fight with all its might to take with it the foolish predator that attacked it," Walburga said, with a feverish gleam in her eyes.

When Kreacher had rushed to spill to his mistress what he had heard in the cellars of Arcturus Black's estate, where Alya had confessed to Regulus what she had done in the prefects' bath, to the detriment of Lily Evans, and the reasons for her act, Walburga had wisely guessed her daughter's inherent nature. That was why she had so insisted that Alya learn to wield that difficult spell. That nature had to come out into the open, Walburga needed an ally in order to protect her pack. Especially with Sirius continuing to act so recklessly, to the detriment of the family.

On the morning of the first of September, the day Alya was to return to school for the sixth time, Walburga had slipped into her daughter's room in order to remind her of her role. And, for that reason, she had given her the silver pendant. And when Alya had asked her the reason for this unexpected gift, Mrs Black had replied with a phrase as enigmatic as it was symbolic, referring to the shared Patronus.

Thus, Walburga had opened the locket, revealing the precious treasure hidden within. And so, Alya had found out that what she shared with her mother was not only the majestic silver stag which flowed from her wand, but also the very essence that had conjured it. From the depths concealed by the pendant had appeared a picture, worn and somewhat yellowed from the years that had passed, depicting a woman with three children, one of whom looked little more than an infant: they were Sirius, Alya and Regulus. The latter, in his mother's arms, alternated grimaces that heralded an inevitable burst of tears, while Sirius and Alya waved their chubby little hands in the direction of the camera. At the time, their resemblance was glaring, unmistakably revealing their twin bond. Alya had no memory of such a photograph, but her mother was not slow to explain.

"It was taken shortly after Regulus' birth. You and Sirius were barely two years old," Walburga said with a vague wistfulness. "This pendant has always held my most precious treasure. It reminds me of what must be protected. But I think the time has come for it to pass on to someone else. I am sure you'll make good use of it." she added, looking at Alya with an unexpectedly motherly smile. A woman carefully guards her most precious secrets, Walburga had always answered Alya's insistent questions about that pendant as a child. Now the girl understood its real significance. Moved, Alya had admired herself in the mirror, contemplating the silver glow that the locket emanated. Her fingers had eagerly caressed the small, branching engraving.

"The horn of the stag that protects its herd," Walburga had solemnly asserted, revealing the true nature of that effigy, which Alya had always mistaken for a branch.

***

Alya's fingers gently grazed the slender deer antler engraved on the surface of the pendant.

"Mother cares so much about that necklace. I wonder why she wanted to give it to you?" said Regulus, with vague curiosity.

"An early birthday present." replied Alya spicily.

"Right, in a couple of months you'll be of age," murmured Regulus, pondering the time until his sister's birthday. "You'll also be allowed to use magic outside Hogwarts during the holidays. I'm so envious!" he exclaimed, snorting.

"Those are the perks of a big sister, my dear little brother. I'll be able to afflict you if you're not nice to me." teased Alya, with a wide, amused smile plastered on her face.

"Then see that you bind that fool Sirius," Regulus commented acidly.

"Too bad he comes of age with me! If I cast a spell on him, he'd cast an even worse one on me," Alya observed darkly.

"Yes, but mum and dad would immediately ground him if he dared to twist a hair on your head, and you'd be given a few more family jewels just for demonstrating your talent with spells," Regulus sneered with a shrug. The two brothers exchanged a look of understanding and burst out laughing.

Suddenly, however, Alya's soul was troubled. Suddenly, the idea of turning seventeen sounded to her as an inexplicably ominous event.

At that moment, the sliding door of the compartment burst open, interrupting the girl's mournful thoughts.

"Black! I've been looking for you for a long time!" burst out in a commanding voice a tall, good-looking boy with black hair, neatly combed. His brown eyes, which betrayed a certain cruelty of spirit, stared eagerly at young Regulus. He was Maynard Nott, a seventh-year student belonging to the House of Slytherin. Like Regulus, he already wore the school uniform, on which shone a golden pin designating him as the Captain of the Quidditch team. Alya knew him by reputation, although she had never spoken to him: Philippa had developed a considerable crush on Maynard Nott, longing to become his girlfriend for at least a couple of years. The boy was considered one of the best parties among the pureblood stydents attending Hogwarts, and his good looks made him even more desirable.

"Nott! Good to see you again. Did you have a good summer?" asked Regulus politely. Meanwhile, Nott's brown eyes had momentarily become distracted, resting insistently on Alya - especially on her legs, barely exposed by the skirt of her dress. Alya pretended not to notice their interest and turned with false indifference towards the window, to admire the view outside the glass.

"A bit boring, actually" replied Nott distractedly, who turned his attention back to Regulus. "Listen, I need you to come to my compartment right away. The others from the team are there too. Over the summer I have been developing some new strategies and I want to discuss them with you." he added peremptorily, giving himself airs of an army commander.

"Team? But shouldn't you proceed with the selections before defining a team?" asked Regulus knowingly.

"Forget about the selections! I already know who I want in my team. The rest is just a useless waste of time. If we want to win the House Cup this year - and I definitely want to win - we have to get going immediately. So, hurry up. I'll be waiting in my compartment in a minute!" Nott concluded, frowning.

Before exiting the carriage of the two Black brothers, Nott cast one last furtive, longing glance in the direction of Alya, who, however, completely ignored him. Disappointed, the boy disappeared, swallowed up by the long corridor.

"Do you mind if I go?" asked Regulus to his sister, once Nott was gone.

"Not at all. Go ahead. I know you, I know you're looking forward to confabulating with your friends about broomsticks and Golden Twitch." Alya replied in a joking tone.

"Golden Snitch, not Twitch! You know nothing about Quidditch!" Regulus scoffed at her, sulking.

"Snitch, Twitch - there is no difference." shrugged Alya, with total disinterest. She had never loved Quidditch. "Come on, go! Don't worry about it. See you later." she finally waved him off.

Regulus returned the greeting and walked out to join the rest of the team, who were four compartments ahead.

Left alone, Alya tortured again the silver necklace around her neck, her gaze lost in the endless expanses of green that stretched brightly outside the train. It was a beautiful day, the sun shone high and vigorous in the blue sky. However, in the distance a menacing blanket of smoke-coloured clouds could be seen, ready to swallow the brightness of the day in its dense, grey jaws. Within a short time, the Hogwarts Express would be inundated with heavy rain. Alya took advantage of those last moments of sunshine to cast her gaze over the emerald green fields that ran before her eyes. That landscape reminded her of the location of her family's summer residence, the estate of Arcturus Black, which was immersed in a green expanse not unlike the one she was admiring at that very moment. The only difference was the absence of the grove that, in the countryside where Alya used to spend the summer, acted as a border between the magical world of the estate and the surrounding Muggle world. Suddenly, the bad feeling that had seized her just before returned violently, causing a shiver down her spine. Alya couldn't comprehend what had triggered it. She retraced the thoughts that had crossed her mind up to that moment: she had joked with Regulus about her passion for Quidditch, she had felt flattered by Nott's interested glances, she had watched the landscape unfold outside the window, she had remembered how she had learned Patronus and how that spell bound her to her mother, she had fiddled with the pendant she had received as an early birthday present...

And there it was, again, the terrible feeling with the taste of a foreboding doom. It was the thought of her birthday that had triggered it. Her seventeenth birthday, to be exact. With an unconscious gesture, Alya stopped torturing the silver locket and looked at her palms. She observed the branching lines that drew roads and incomprehensible messages along her skin. Drawings that, long ago, an old Muggle woman had tried to decipher. Alya still remembered the day she had been rescued by the Muggle child who had lived in the little house beyond the woods opposite Arcturus Black's estate. In that same house, Alya had met a strange, very old, eccentric-looking lady who had given herself airs as a fortune-teller. She had scrutinised her hands, studied the signs engraved on them and had pronounced her incoherent sentence with pompous solemnity: a bright future had appeared in the palm of her left hand, while an ominous end loomed in the palm of her right. Your death. Your death at seventeen. The raucous words recited by the old Mugglewoman emerged from the depths of Alya's memory, like glowing lava. Another shiver of terror gripped the girl, who immediately closed her hands and shook her head angrily.

For all the snakes of Salazar, what on earth am I thinking of? It's just nonsense! reproached the girl sternly, trying to chase away the ominous disquiet, as if it were a simple, annoying buzzing insect.

Alya tried to distract herself, concentrating again on the landscape outside, which, with the same timing as her mood, had abandoned all traces of warm brightness, giving way to a dreary sky darkened by black clouds.

The scarlet train continued on its way, fast devouring miles along the tracks leading to the secret place where Hogwarts stood. The sun had been completely swallowed up by the dense blanket of clouds, which were now preparing to release their load of rain. Inside her compartment, shrouded in half-light and solitude, Alya felt fatigue descend upon her eyelids. She struggled for a few seconds against the urge to close her eyes and go to sleep, but the effort proved futile. The girl inevitably slipped into the placid, floating world of dreams. As always, a slimy darkness, of the same consistency as inky blackness, enveloped itself around Alya, taking her to remote places and times. When the dark curtains of that mysterious curtain rose, Alya recognised the outlines of Merope's rickety old house. A dead snake hung, as usual, nailed to the wooden door. Alya walked through it and resolutely reached her friend's room. Unlike the last times she had met her dream friend, Alya had not appeared in the small village cemetery. She asked herself the reason, without being able to find an answer. After all, it was a dream and in dreams there is no logic.

The night hung over the ruined dwelling like a mighty black cloak, and a gloomy silence permeated the interior. Only faint sobs could be heard, coming - Alya had no doubt about it - from Merope's room. When Alya entered the small, cramped room, invaded by mould and dampness, she immediately saw her friend's frail, bony figure lying on the bed in the throes of a stifled cry. Merope's too thin arms seemed to be clutching something with all their strength, as if clinging to a rock. Alya recognised the porcelain doll, the same she owned in Grimmauld Place, identical in every detail.

Alya silently approached.

"Merope" she whispered so as not to startle her sobbing friend, who, however, gasped in fright, hearing her name called.

As soon as she became aware of the unexpected guest's presence, however, Merope relaxed, even though big tears were still shining in her eyes. Alya, for her part, was horrified at the sight of what was before her: Merope's face was unnaturally swollen and swollen, with obvious purple haematomas extending around one eye and elsewhere on her face. A crust of congealed blood was encrusted at the corner of her lips, which appeared monstrously pale and devoid of colour. Alya immediately understood what had happened and felt herself flooded with rage: someone had beaten Merope violently, reducing her to that pitiful state.

"Your brother?" growled Alya, throwing herself on her friend to check the severity of her injuries. Merope tried in vain to move away, but Alya grabbed her with a firm grip. Merope tried hard to hide the wounds that covered not only her face, but also the rest of her body: arms, legs, even her neck, were covered in bruises and marks of beatings.

"No, my father" replied her friend, who seemed to be in a state of shock, in a feeble voice. Alya, merciless, drew her to herself and embraced her. This gesture of affection took Merope by surprise, melting her into a desperate cry.

"M-my f-father knows t-everything -" stammered Merope in utter despair, sinking her stubby but gaunt face into her hands. "M-Morfin saw me as I looked out of the window to see Tom who was passing by at that moment with his horse - and he understood" recounted Merope, trying to compose herself by stifling the sobs, with a shadow of emptiness veiling her eyes, as if she were confessing to a heinous crime: falling in love with a Muggle.

"Morfin ran out and attacked Tom, threw a bill at him. Nothing serious, just gave him mild hives," Merope hastened to explain, noting Alya's worried expression. "Morfin may be crazy, but not so crazy as to risk his freedom with an 'assault or murder. He just wanted to ridicule Tom, to scar him - oh, my poor Tom!" the sobs returned disruptively. It took Alya a while before she stemmed that second wave of tears. She wanted to know what had happened.

"Obviously, the Ministry of Magic intervened immediately. Affecting Muggles is considered a very serious crime, and although the situation was resolved without too much difficulty - they immediately wiped both the signs of hives from Tom's face and the memory of the spell he had undergone - Morfin was called to appear at a hearing. Of course, my father ignored all the owls that were sent. This morning an official from the Ministry himself came here to warn him. My father did not like his visit at all." at which point Merope's face became even more bloodless, as far as possible.

"Morfin, in the end, spilled everything he knew about my feelings for Tom...my father, you can imagine, did not take it well...he attacked the man sent by the Ministry and then pounced on me...I feared the worst...he would kill me...I am sure..." he said, in a nefarious tone.

"But he stopped, after all," tried to console Alya, although that sentence did not sound convincing to her at all. The only thing the young Black could think of was how to avenge her friend by repaying the wicked man with the same pain.

"It was the men from the Ministry who stopped him," Merope corrected her in a hollow voice, devoid of all emotion. "They came back a few minutes after my father had chased away the first official and stopped him. Both he and Morfin were taken to the front of the Ministry by force."

Alya felt a vague sense of justice. Those two despicable men would pay for their unforgivable wickedness. However, Merope still seemed to be in the grip of the deepest terror. She was inconsolable.

"If the Ministry has taken them away, it means you have nothing to fear from now on, Merope. You are free. Those two won't be back for quite a while." Alya reassured her, flaunting a cheerful tone, just to lift her spirits as much as possible.

"You think so?" asked Merope, venturing a shred of hope.

"I'm sure of it! After an attack like that, against the Ministry of Magic itself, your father and brother will be sent to Azkaban in no time. I could bet my mother's pendant on it!" exclaimed Alya confidently.

Hearing these words, Merope seemed to calm down a little. Her body, pervaded by sobs and gripped by a rigid fear, slowly relaxed, still clutched in Alya's affectionate embrace.

"I thank you Alya, you really are a friend - the only one who really cares about me," said Merope softly, full of gratitude mixed with grim resignation. Alya squeezed her even tighter, with the only desire to make her feel safe.

Alya's eyes rested on the only small window in the room, and her gaze sank into the inky-black sky, expanding outside. Alya had the sensation of sinking with her own body into that dense night darkness and, when she looked around, she realised that Merope, the bed, the porcelain doll and the rest of the room were gone, vanished. Everything around her began to swirl, until Alya opened her eyes again. The roar of the train, gliding over the tracks, filled her ears with loud overbearingness.

"You're awake at last!" exclaimed Regulus, sitting across from her with a bored air. Alya shook her head, becoming aware of the reality she was in.

"I must have fallen asleep. I didn't hear you come in. How long have you been here?" asked Alya, crinkling her eyes lazily.

"A few minutes, actually. You were sleeping so blissfully that I didn't want to wake you. Anyway, you'd better get ready. We're almost there," Regulus said in a practical tone.

Alya quickly donned her school uniform, dropping the long black cloak elegantly over her shoulders. The girl cast a vain glance at the dark window pane, so as to admire her own figure reflected in it. With a voluptuous gesture, she moved her long raven hair to one side, highlighting part of her slender neck.

"You know, I really think Maynard Nott likes you. During the trip, he made a couple of remarks about you -" commented Regulus, amused by his sister's display of vanity.

"Mmm, you think so?" replied Alya, feigning indifference to the matter.

"Don't play dumb! I saw how you showed off your legs when he walked in here just now." grinned the boy, winking. "I bet he'll ask you out," he added smugly.

"He's certainly a good catch. Noble, rich, with good grades at school -"

"Pureblood, Slytherin. Mum would be proud if she knew you were engaged to a guy like that," Regulus poked her.

"You're already talking about engagement? We haven't even spoken! And besides, Philippa likes him!" scowled Alya at him.

"All the more reason to date him! You just love to see Philippa rosy with envy. Nott will come forward soon, you'll see."

Alya didn't reply, feigning indifference once more. Inside her, however, an impatient sense of competition began to stir. Regulus was right: the idea of seeing Philippa envious of her cheered her up.

For a few moments, a grave silence stretched inside the compartment. Regulus and Alya turned their gazes beyond the train window, catching sight of the jagged outline of the majestic Hogwarts Castle in the distance, towering proudly in the night.

"What do you think will happen to us this year?" asked Regulus suddenly, with an enigmatic expression painted on his face, which Alya could not decipher. Perhaps, he was anxious about what Sirius might be up to.

"As for me, I just hope it's a quiet year." replied Alya laconically, chasing away a bad feeling for the second time that day.

Both of the Black siblings unloaded their heavy trunks with effort as the Hogwarts Express began to slow its ride.

From the window, the imperious figure of the ancient school of magic approached, giving it a sense of familiarity. Alya prepared to follow Regulus, who had already dived into the long corridor, to reach the exit door.

I just hope it's a quiet year, the girl repeated inwardly, as she walked swiftly behind Regulus, willfully ignoring the strange tingling sensation that had suddenly invaded her palms.

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