Monday, 6 December 1976. Hogwarts.

Alya spent the rest of the day brooding over the meeting she had arranged with Peter Pettigrew. Fierce anger had driven her to act impulsively, something she rarely did.

During the last and only lecture of the afternoon, the thoughtful girl often turned her gaze towards the sky, beyond the imposing classroom windows. There was not even a shadow of a cloud, a blue cloak towered clear and limpid over the jagged towers of Hogwarts. That night, too, the sky would be clear, full of twinkling stars to radiate the darkness.

Alya thought of the words Pettigrew had mumbled, before the boy had frightened away: there will be a full moon tonight, he had stammered.

What does Peter Pettigrew care if there is a full moon tonight? wondered Alya, in an attempt to repress a disturbing memory. In vain. The image of Merope warning her about the pale satellite resurfaced ominously from young Black's memory.

Beware the full moon, Alya! her dream friend had told her, in an almost threatening tone. It must have been just a coincidence, the girl repeated stubbornly to herself, yet that sense of inevitability that had seized her in her dreams took hold of her once more, tormenting her with inexplicable shivers of terror. Was there really anything to fear? Alya, in a moment of confusion, wondered whether she should postpone her meeting with Pettigrew to another evening. But it was only the indecision of a second. Alya shook her head angrily, dismissing that absurd option.

Anyway, the afternoon passed quickly, slipping inexorably into the evening.

Immediately after dinner, Alya went straight to the Slytherin dungeon, determined to remain in the Common Room, waiting for the most opportune moment to sneak out inconspicuously. She took a seat in her favourite spot - on the black sofa next to the warmth emanating from the marble fireplace - and began reading a chapter of her Advanced Transfiguration volume. As usual, as soon as the evening banquet was over, the Common Room was packed with students, invaded by an excited youthful hubbub. Many students were intent on complaining about the tedious lectures and the heavy load of homework with which the inflexible professors had burdened them earlier in the week.

"I can't take it anymore, they don't give us a break! I spend my whole life on books now!" grumbled Melyssa, who had slumped lazily beside Alya.

"I can't wait for the Christmas holidays!" sighed Philippa tiredly, abandoned on the sofa opposite young Black. Next to her, Beth nodded her head feebly as she stared disconsolately at a sharp D - that is, Dreadful - mercilessly marked on her last Transfiguration test.

"That sullen griffin McGonagall! What did it cost her to at least give me an Acceptable? My parents will kill me!" whimpered Beth, on the verge of despair.

"McGonagall would eat Doxy's excrement rather than do a favour for a Slytherin. If you were a stupid Gryffindor, on the other hand -" replied Philippa allusively, as she rubbed her closed eyelids over her eyes with her fingertips.

"The tests he's been offering us lately are impossible. Half the class has barely managed to snatch a passing grade...it's disgraceful!" said Melyssa, trying to give Beth a bit of a hand. "How much did you get, Alya?" she then asked, addressing young Black.

"Outstanding." replied the girl, with an impassive shrug, not taking her eyes off the book.

"What a surprise!" snorted Philippa sardonically.

"I must keep up the honour of the Blacks." explained Alya, with a smirk, snapping the schoolbook shut. Concentrating on spells, with her friends intent on mourning their poor school results beside her was impossible.

Alya joined in the chatter of her friends, laughing at their snide jokes about the students they deemed inferior - Muggle-borns mostly - and enjoying the sordid gossip uttered by Beth's inclement mouth. It mattered little to her that none of the tales proposed by her friend were even remotely true. The important thing was to cast haughty judgements on others, thus increasing their innate opinion that they were part of a privileged circle.

It was an excellent distraction, as they waited for their scheduled appointment with Pettigrew, made all the more pleasant by the unexpected arrival of Regulus. Alya had rarely seen him of late, busy as he was with sports training and studying. It was his O.W.L. exams year and every spare moment was spent on books.

Alya took the opportunity to chat with her brother for a while, planning together their return to Grimmauld Place once the longed-for Christmas holidays began. They joked and laughed together, until Regulus was seized by Nott and the other team members to discuss - again, Alya huffed, frowning - Quidditch.

"You can't talk about anything else?" exasperated Alya scolded them, seeing her younger brother being dragged away.

"Don't be sad, Black. As soon as we beat those Gryffindor yokels I'll be all yours!" replied Maynard Nott to her, winking mischievously. Melyssa and Beth dissolved into giggles. A shadow fell over Philippa's watery eyes, looking grimly at her envied mate. Alya went back to chatting with her friends, who peppered her with giggling jokes about her relationship with Maynard Nott. The blonde did her best to pretend to be part of the group, but it was obvious that the topic annoyed her. However, despite Philippa's discontent which she could hardly hide, time passed quickly and slowly the Slytherin Common Room began to empty. The intense hubbub soon turned into a faint buzz.

Although she flaunted nonchalance, Alya kept an eye on all the movements in the room, casting furtive glances at the clock that struck the hour above the marble fireplace. Alya's watchful eyes couldn't help but notice that someone else was also staring intently at the black, snake-carved hands of the clock hanging on the wall. Severus Snape, sitting as usual aloof on one of the wooden chairs in the corner near the large window overlooking the depths of the Black Lake, seemed to be waiting anxiously for everyone present to leave for their respective dormitories.

When the clock struck ten with a grave chime, the Common Room was almost completely empty. The buzz of sleepy voices vanished into thin air and even the last of the daredevils began to give in to the need to hole up under the covers. Philippa, followed closely by Melyssa and Beth, took her leave of Alya with wide, resounding yawns, dragging herself with difficulty towards their room. With the excuse of having to finish studying the last few paragraphs of a Transfiguration topic, Alya sat on the black leather sofa by the fire in the fireplace.

Now only she and Snape were in the room. A silence pregnant with impatience suddenly fell in the Slytherin Common Room.

Alya sensed the insistent glances Snape gave her from behind his book, of which he probably had not read a single line. The same ones the girl glared at him when he wasn't looking. It was clear they both wanted the same thing: for one of them to get out of the way as soon as possible.

Alya cast one last quick glance at the black wooden snakes that indicated the time: it was late and young Black could wait no longer.

Indignant at Snape's stubbornness, Alya threw the book into her bag and headed for her own dormitory as well, ignoring her companion's presence as if he were simply part of the room's furnishings. But it was only a feint: Alya didn't enter the room she shared with her roomates, she remained hidden in the darkness, watching Snape above the mahogany staircase.

Snape hesitated only a few moments, before darting stealthily towards the entrance to the Common Room. Alya heard the soft but unmistakable sound of the door sliding sideways into the stone wall.

Sure that Snape had now left, the young Black emerged from the shadows and quickly descended the steps, staring at the doorway with suspicion. What was the extravagant, greasy-haired boy up to?

But the hands jerked on the face of the clock above the fireplace, bringing Alya back to her priorities. She had no time to lambast Severus Snape's shady evening activities; she had much more to worry about.

With the swiftness of a feline, Alya slipped out of the Common Room, wrapping a heavy black cloak around her shoulders. It took her several minutes before she crossed the castle and reached the school's front door. Luckily for her and careful not to make the slightest noise, the girl met no one on her secret journey, not even that annoying and meddlesome caretaker, old Mr Filch.

Once outside, the cold, biting night air pinched her exposed skin. Alya hunched coldly in her ample cloak and strode towards the Forbidden Forest.

She cautiously walked around the hut of Hagrid, the giant Hogwarts gamekeeper. There was no light to illuminate the small, battered windows of his humble abode: evidently the big man must have already gone to sleep. Alya felt a sense of relief. Everything was going smoothly.

The only light reigning in the cold darkness was that of a large full moon that filled the sky with pale vanity, seductively bathing every blade of grass within the confines of Hogwarts.

Having reached the edge of the Forbidden Forest, Alya tried to blend in with the incipient bush: the gnarled and tangled branches of the imposing trees that dwelt in the forest did not allow the moonlight to penetrate them. A gloomy darkness fell over the girl, but she was not afraid. She felt only a feverish impatience.

It was already eleven o'clock and Peter Pettigrew was still out of sight. Young Black scanned the horizon carefully, but there was no sign of the plump figure of the little Gryffindor. All was silent in Hogwarts Park.

Without Alya noticing, her foot began to paw impatiently on the ground: she had not considered the possibility that the cowardly Pettigrew might decide to miss her appointment.

"I hope for his sake he shows up," hissed the girl to the night, through gritted teeth.

Alya glanced at her pocket watch: past eleven. A fervent nervousness invaded her.

When she looked up, however, she almost had a stroke. Peter Pettigrew stood before her, only a handful of centimetres away. He was sweating and panting, he looked as if he had run at breakneck speed. Where had he come from? Alya was sure she saw no one approaching. She gave him a cold, suspicious look.

"You're late. I don't like waiting," Alya exclaimed, dryly.

"It's three minutes past eleven, I got here as fast as I could -" tried to justify himself to Peter, already stammering with fear.

"I said eleven o'clock." she rephrased him, dryly. The Gryffindor fell silent, stiffening.

"Did you bring what I asked for?" asked Alya, pressing on. Pettigrew nodded, handing the Slytherin a roll of parchment. Alya grabbed it and unrolled it before her eyes; she took a quick glance, only pretending to read. She shot little Peter a smug look, giving him a smile for the first time, albeit an oblique and mirthless one.

"Well, I see you have been true to your word. Come on, let's go!" she announced, turning quickly towards the shadowy interior of the gloomy forest. However, she heard Peter Pettigrew hesitating behind her.

"What is it?" asked the girl, abruptly.

"Do you want to enter the Forbidden Forest?" stammered the chubby Gryffindor, pale in the face.

"Of course, Pettigrew! Do you really think I'd practice Dark Magic spells in the middle of the schoolyard?" retorted Alya caustically. "Come on, don't be a wimp." she encouraged him finally, with a complicit smirk on her lips.

Reluctantly, Peter followed her into the maze of mighty trunks and twisted branches. Alya advanced at a confident pace, Pettigrew on the other hand did nothing but look around intimidated, wincing at every rustle of air or crunch of trampled leaves.

The unlikely couple walked for a long time, penetrating deeper and deeper into the dark depths of the vast Hogwarts forest, until they reached a large clearing, which opened out circularly amidst a blanket of majestic trees. The ceiling of leaves and branches thinned conspicuously, allowing the moon's pale rays to illuminate the landscape; the outlines of the trunks and profiles of the two students were suddenly bathed in the satellite's opaque light.

Alya stopped and Peter imitated her, stumbling in his own steps.

"Yes, I think it's perfect here," agreed Alya, quickly scanning the surrounding perimeter. Peter didn'tt look to be of the same opinion: he was breathing heavily, visibly frightened by the tension-filled silence that hung over him and his enigmatic companion. He was continually casting terrified glances at the impenetrable darkness beyond the trees that surrounded them, as if he feared that at any moment some hideous creature would come snarling out, ready to devour him.

Alya advanced a few more steps, standing in the middle of the clearing, and signalled to Peter to follow her. He trotted along hesitantly, but obediently. Alya was more frightening to him than the unknown darkness, after all.

Standing in front of the slender, elegant figure of the young Slytherin, Peter Pettigrew was shaken by a new chill: illuminated by the white moon, which made everything evanescent and ethereal, Alya looked incredibly beautiful, but at the same time terrifying. Her long dark hair, which fell over one shoulder, gathered in a soft ponytail, shone like the night sky, invaded by waves of stars. Her grey eyes, inscrutable, sparkled as never before, giving her a proud and fascinating yet fierce appearance, like that of a panther on the hunt.

Hypnotised by that image, seductive and ruthless at the same time, Peter didn't notice that Alya had already slipped her wand from one sleeve of her uniform.

"I'd say we can begin," Alya declared, smiling persuasively at the plump little Gryffindor. "No one will be able to see or hear us here. It's just you and me."

"So you're really going to show me the Dark Arts you're capable of? And Parseltongue?" asked Peter Pettigrew with sudden eagerness.

"Of course, Pettigrew. I keep my word," replied Alya solemnly. "Now, draw your wand!" she ordered imperiously. Peter obeyed, rummaging excitedly in his pockets.

Alya's eyes stared motionless at Pettigrew's weapon, and for a moment moonlight flashed in her gaze. It all happened in a second: without uttering any formula, Alya swiftly waved her wand. Peter's slipped from his plump hand, flying directly between Alya's tapering fingers. Without understanding the reason, Pettigrew had been disarmed and was now looking at the Slytherin with a bewildered air. But he didn't even have time to ask for an explanation that Alya was already waving her wand at him again, still silently concealing her intentions. The Gryffindor felt himself being squeezed by a mighty grip, as if a large invisible rope had been tied around his plump body, crushing him mercilessly.

Peter Pettigrew squeaked in pain and fear, totally immobilised.

"W-w-what does that mean?" he mumbled in a shrill voice. Terror had returned to drench his face, pale as a rag, with cold sweat. "What have you done to me? Why can't I move?" he whimpered in horror.

Alya peered at him with an impassive expression.

"Because I don't want you to run away," she replied placidly, looking at Peter - who meanwhile was wriggling slumped on the ground in a vain attempt to free himself - as if he couldn't have asked a more stupid question.

"Why are you doing this to me? What does that mean?" whimpered Peter.

"I'm showing you some of the Dark Magic you asked for, Pettigrew," Alya said in a frighteningly mellifluous voice. Her face rippled into a cruel smile as she watched the convulsive movements of the Gryffindor, who was desperately trying to escape from the grip of the bill. "What? Were you expecting something different?" the girl asked, feigning astonishment.

But before the trembling Peter could reply, Alya turned her back on him for a second, looking towards a dark corner beyond a bush. The girl's lips moved and the sounds which came out of her mouth shrieked in the air like whispered hisses.

Peter's face became even more livid with fear.

"W-what are you w-w-what are you doing?" asked the immobilized Gryffindor, clearly terrified by the answer.

"You'll see," replied Alya casually, continuing to stare at the dark crevice between the tangled branches.

A sudden movement shook the tangle of leaves, as if something beyond the bush had just woken up. Then a crawling noise was heard, the ground creaked under the weight of a body that was sliding slowly and inexorably in Alya's direction.

Peter Pettigrew stopped struggling, stiffening as if frozen. He stared at the dark corner with pure terror.

A large, black creature emerged from the shadows, meandering sinuously through the grass. Peter could not hold back a gasp of horror when he saw the animal rise menacingly above him. A majestic cobra, black as onyx, loomed over the trembling figure of the little Gryffindor. Deep dark eyes scrutinised it with ravenous intent, its forked tongue vibrating lightly out of its jaws. The triangular snout was framed by two aureoles, covered in thick black scales, shining like gems bathed in the white lunar glow.

"This is Koboro." announced Alya, turning her attention back to her prey, who was shaking like a leaf.

"As you see, my brother was right after all. It is true, I am a Parselmouth. Koboro is an old acquaintance of mine. A friend, so to speak." explained young Black, in an amiable tone.

"W-what do you have in mind?" mumbled Peter, increasingly panicked.

"Haven't you figured it out yet?" bounced Alya, impatient. "I don't like you, Pettigrew. You are a coward. And a traitor. And I really hate traitors. You deserve a lesson," said the girl, in a cold voice.

"Traitor? But if I did all what you asked. I was loyal to you -" squeaked the Gryffindor, confused.

Alya burst into a bitter laugh.

"Loyal - you are only loyal to your miserable cowardice." she commented, full of contempt. "And anyway, it's not loyalty to me I mean -"

"I don't understand - What have I done wrong? What do you want from me?" implored Peter, shooting frightened glances in the direction of Koboro, who reciprocated with placid stillness.

"I've been watching you for years, Pettigrew. You trot behind Sirius, reveling in the confidence he, for reasons I still don't understand, places in you. You enjoy being in the company of important, admired, powerful people. You, so insignificant and weak, need the protection of individuals like my brother. Yet, you had no qualms about betraying his trust, deceiving him, just for your own self-interest, am I right?" Alya's words thundered mercilessly at Peter, who now stammered incomprehensible pleas.

"But...you...it was you who...asked me for the information about Sirius."

"It was a charade. I was just testing you. I wanted to test your loyalty. Needless to say, you failed miserably, Pettigrew. You should have refused my offer. You should have said no." confessed Alya, in an icy voice.

"B-but you and Sirius detest each other. He hates you!" exclaimed Peter with a high-pitched shriek.

Alya slowly advanced towards him, watching him with disgust.

"Sirius.is.my.brother." hissed the young Black, looming imperiously over the trembling figure of Peter Pettigrew.

"Sirius.is.a.Black. And no one can afford to make fun of a Black. Least of all you, you insulting, ridiculous rat." Alya's voice plunged into the little Gryffindor like a sharp blade. His tapering fingers clenched tightly around his wand.

"What are you going to do to me?" Peter's voice became a terrified squeak. The black cobra continued to stare at him with motionless insistence.

"Reveal your true nature, Pettigrew. Turn you into what you really are: a filthy rat." hissed Alya, raising her wand towards the terrified Gryffindor.

"But you needn't worry, not everyone feels disgust for creatures like you. Koboro, for example, really likes rats - He finds them, shall we say, tasty." Alya laughed maliciously. Peter Pettigrew began to paw convulsively again, but the grip that enveloped him only tightened even more.

"Save your strength, Pettigrew. You can run in due time. Koboro enjoys chasing his own meal. I really want to see how fast you can be."

The forked tongue of the snake vibrated merrily in midair, as if to confirm the young Slytherin's statement. Alya gave to Koboro a look of understanding and hissed something at him that Peter could not understand. Koboro, in response, advanced, slithering fearfully close to the bound boy. Peter could now see his small nostrils flare, as if he were sniffing him.

"Pl-please. I beg your forgiveness. I will never betray Sirius again, I promise. He is my friend -"

"Shut up, you filthy liar! Your whining is ridiculous! You had your chance to prove your loyalty. And you failed. Now you will pay the consequences." thundered Alya, adamant. Her wand rose again, threatening, ready to cast the spell.

Peter's watery gaze was filled with resignation, mixed with desperate rage. He stared into Alya's eyes for the first time, ranting at her:
"Sirius is right! You're a monster!" then closed his eyes, waiting for his doom to rain down on him.

Alya's face became like granite, her whole body froze, like stone.

The hand firmly gripping the wand froze. The cruelty veiling her gaze gave way to a new, inexplicable hue.

Pettigrew slowly opened his eyelids again, sensing that nothing had happened. He dared to raise his eyes in the direction of the girl: Alya still loomed over him, but she looked drained, devoid of the fury which had just before animated her cruel intentions.

She lowered her wand slowly and waved it carelessly.

To his amazement - and relief - Peter Pettigrew felt the grip on him loosen, the invisible rope loosen and vanish. He was free.

But before the little Gryffindor could venture any movement, Alya grabbed him violently by the back of the head, bringing the boy's mousy face inches from his own. Peter saw the stars of the sky vibrate glittering in the grey irises of the Slytherin, who scrutinised him fiercely.

"If I catch you betraying Sirius again, Pettigrew, I swear I won't be so magnanimous!" Alya hissed through gritted teeth. Then she let Peter Pettigrew go, causing him to collapse to his knees.

"And now go away! Drop out of my sight, before I change my mind." she concluded final and threatening.

Pettigrew, who was shaking like a leaf, seemed to have forgotten how to use his legs. However, a slight movement of the black cobra was enough to bring his memory back, and he got up in a rush and started running wildly in the direction of the castle.

"Oh I forgot -" Alya shouted behind his back. "Your wand, Pettigrew."

And she hurled the slender weapon beyond the blanket of branches and leaves, into the middle of the Forbidden Forest. "Good search." she whispered cruelly.

With desperate resignation painted on his face, Peter Pettigrew followed the trajectory drawn by the wand with his gaze and plunged himself into the leafy, dark tangle of the forest.

Left alone, Alya let out a long sigh. Koboro, shining like obsidian, crawled beside her, spreading in a wide coil around her feet.

"Too bad. That thing looked really tasty," the snake hissed disappointedly. "What changed your mind?"

Alya raised her gaze to the night sky, observing the pale full moon which radiated clear light from the ink-black cloak.

"The full moon can turn people into violent creatures, into beasts - into monsters." said Alya softly, repeating the same words Merope had said to her in one of their strange dreams. Her grey eyes then rested on the triangular, flat snout of the snake. They were filled with sadness.

"I don't want to be a monster, Koboro."

The cobra didn't reply. It remained silent, merely flicking its thin tongue out of its scaly lips.

Suddenly, a noise reached the girl's and the snake's ears. Beyond the wall of trees, something - or someone - seemed to have stepped on numerous dry branches.

Koboro instantly stood up, alert, staring at the spot where the suspicious creaking had originated. Alya turned, readily raising her wand in front of her.

"What was that?" whispered Koboro, who pointed his pointed snout towards the bush, taut as a bow ready to shoot an arrow.

More noises followed: a groan, followed by a heavy thud. Something big sounded to have collapsed to the ground.

Without thinking, Alya ran towards it. The cobra crawled swiftly behind her heels.

"Stop, you fool! It's not safe!" he hissed peremptorily. But the girl did not listen to him. She ran swiftly, moving into the tangle of branches. The white moonlight vanished, the shadow enveloped her like a heavy cloak. Alya stopped, panting. She tapped the air with her wand and the tip lit up like a torch.

Koboro had reached her and now crawled guardedly, inches from her ankles.

Alya started moving forward again, walking slowly, her breath catching and her ears taut, ready to catch the slightest sound. She heard the dry leaves crunching under her shoes, the whisper of her breath mixing with the cold night air.

Suddenly, an acrid, ferrous smell flooded her nostrils.

"Blood." Koboro hissed, anticipating young Black's intuition.

Alya waved her wand so as to illuminate the metres of ground that stretched out beneath her feet: wide patches of a dark, thick liquid dotted the turf around her. She was horrified, frightened.

She slowed her pace again, determined not to make the slightest sound. Her heart beat wildly, frightened.

A second sound, sudden, made her gasp: another moan, deep and guttural, terribly close. Someone was suffering. But it did not sound like a human being. Alya sharpened her eyesight as much as possible, trying to penetrate the wooded darkness. But the tangled foliage and indefinite outlines of the trunks prevented her from a clear view. The light from the wand barely illuminated a couple of metres in front of her nose.

Alya continued to advance, stumbling over large protruding roots. Koboro followed her faithfully and silently. The girl had reached a large cypress tree, several metres high, silhouetted majestically against the sky. Slumped at the foot of the tree, the young Black saw the figure of a massive animal, wriggling awkwardly, gasping and kicking as if trying, in vain, to get back on its slender legs. The sweetish, metallic smell of blood had become disgustingly more intense.

Alya moved even closer, until she was only a handful of centimetres away from the mysterious beast.

"What is it?" Koboro hissed, as the girl illuminated the animal with the light of her wand.

"It's a stag." replied Alya, as two large tears ran down her face.