November 1972. Hogwarts.

A breath of icy air made Alya shiver, and she clutched herself in her heavy cloak. It was late autumn now, and even the warm rays of the sun had lost much of their warmth.

It was a cold Saturday morning and Alya was holed up inside the Forbidden Forest, far from the hustle and bustle that raged around the castle. At that moment, a Quidditch match was being played between the Slytherins and the Gryffindors, the most eagerly awaited and heartfelt sporting match of the term. The entire school had poured into the stands surrounding the large Quidditch Stadium, including the teachers.

Alya didn't understand what people found so interesting about Quidditch; to her, it was boring as hell. Yet, it seemed to be the main attraction for students and professors of Hogwarts.

However, the fact that all the school's attention was focused on that pitch dotted with rings and delineated by stands overflowing with fans had its positive side, which Alya had found herself grateful for since first year.

Alya used to take advantage of those Quidditch days to sneak out of the castle and into the Forbidden Forest; with the absence of the teachers to watch the corridors, it was child's play, and none of her schoolmates gave any weight to her absence, believing her to be busy cheering on the Silver-Green House team somewhere else in the stands.

Thus, Alya had the opportunity to spend a couple of hours in peace, away from the pressure of her responsibilities as a noble Black at school, in the company of a good book and her slithering friend Koboro.

Also on that cold Saturday, Alya went to her secret place, sat down on the grass of a small clearing inside the Forbidden Forest and started to read her book, with Koboro rolled up beside her. The reptile's presence was not only pleasing to the girl for reasons of simple affection, but it was also extremely useful: it kept away uncomfortable creatures which could have been dangerous for her.

From time to time, the snake quickly uncoiled its body, only to target some succulent prey running through the bushes. Then, after its meal, Koboro returned to curl up next to its human friend.

Meanwhile, Alya's grey eyes were devouring the pages of a small volume, very dear to her. It was Treasure Island, the little adventure book, which Harry Bennet, the Muggle child she had met the year before in Cornwall, had lent her.

Little Black had finished it long ago, but she hadn't stopped reading it even when the characters' lines had become so familiar that she could recite them by heart.

A motion of melancholy gripped Alya's soul: during her first year at Hogwarts, she had many times fantasised - secretly, of course - about meeting Harry again during the summer in Cornwall, at the estate of Arcturus Black.

She had devised several plans on how to escape the watchful, probing gazes of her stern mother and sneak into the grove that separated her from the Bennets' small cottage. She craved to see that child again, even if he wasn't a wizard like her, to ask him how he had spent the year in his Muggle school, what subjects he had studied. In return, Alya would want to tell him about her, about what she really was, about her true nature and, above all, about Hogwarts and how fantastic the school of magic she attended was. She was sure Harry wouldn't be frightened by such a confession. Of course, it was a very serious violation of the rules imposed by the Black family; the most serious, in fact. Never mingle with Muggles.

But Alya realised that she didn't care. She missed Harry and wanted him to be her friend. She needed to have a real friend, who she could talk to and confide in. Or maybe even just chat about this and that, simply having fun.

Little Black was not naive and she knew perfectly well that the friendships she had calculatingly forged at Hogwarts could hardly be called sincere. Alya wanted a real friend, who would accept her as she was, and she was sure that in Harry she could find the kind of friendship she had hoped for.

But Alya's hope had soon turned to disappointment when she found out last summer that Evelyn and Harry had moved, out of the blue, to another town. Alya had nearly burst into tears when she had seen the Bennets' small cottage completely deserted, with the lights off and bathed in dusty silence. Alya had peeped faintly through the glass, but all she had seen were empty, unadorned rooms. It had not taken her long to grasp a reality, difficult to accept, but obvious: Evelyn and Harry Bennet must have moved elsewhere, taking with them the furniture and the distant memory of the few days they had spent together with Alya. The latter had returned to her abode, distraught and sad, with a burning sense of guilt that devoured her mercilessly.

Although she had finished reading the little book Harry had lent her on time, Alya hadn't been able to give it back to Harry in the end.

Therefore, that small volume full of adventures had become for Alya a precious heirloom which gave her proof of the fleeting encounter with that world so distant from her own and, above all, forbidden. She would keep it forever, the girl promised herself. Maybe, one day, Alya and Harry would meet again.

"You always read the same book," Koboro observed, rousing Alya from her nostalgic memories.

"It's a pleasant read. It helps me relax." replied little Black in Parseltongue, without going into details. She perfectly knew that a snake couldn't understand the complicated feelings of a human being.

Suddenly, the black snake stood, its gaze fixed on a point in the direction of the castle, anticipating a thunderous, jubilant roar. Apparently, the Quidditch match had come to an end, as announced by the enthusiastic shouts of the fans of the winning team.

"I'd better go." said Alya, a little displeased. She would have gladly stayed a few more minutes in the forest.

"See you soon, Koboro. Don't eat all the little mice in the Forbidden Forest!" she recommended herself playfully, before walking away, in the direction of the school.

In a few minutes, she reached the oaken doorway of the entrance hall, mingling with the flood of people crowding in. Judging by the depressed and disappointed look of some of the older Slytherin students, Alya assumed it was the Gryffindor team that had won the match. The girl sighed impatiently. Not that the Slytherins' defeat was a particular cause for regret for her, since she didn't give a fig about Quidditch. However, the image of the Gryffindors boasting about their prowess on the field made her sick to her stomach. Not to mention James Potter: he had just joined the team as a Seeker and had already won his first game. James Potter was already irritating enough by nature, who was going to put up with him now, ready to strut around every corner of the castle?

Alya saw her friends leaning lazily on the cloister wall inside the school building. With them were also Regulus and another first year Slytherin boy.

"There you are! I had lost sight of you!" lied Alya, running towards her friends and interrupting an excited report of the match, given by Regulus' friend.

"That hag Madame Hooch! The foul she scored on our team, she totally made it up!" the little boy was railing. "We definitely would have won if that third-rate referee hadn't been so obviously biased!"

"That Potter sure does fly fast --" muttered Beth. "He's your brother's friend, isn't he?" she then asked, turning to Alya and Regulus, who instantly turned sullen.

Alya glared at Beth.

"How many times have I told you not to mention my stupid twin brother?" she burst out savagely. Beth shrugged desolately, regretting having opened her mouth.

"I'd better get back to the dungeon, I have a bunch of homework to finish. See you later," Regulus said dryly, leaving the group of mates.

"Wait Black, I'll go with you!" his friend joined in, reluctant to be alone with girls.

Alya sat on the cloister wall.

"Your little brother is easily offended," Philippa observed.

"It's all Beth's fault and her comments! Reg is still sensitive about Sirius and his stupid friends." explained Alya, giving Beth a second stern look.

"I suggest to come back to our common room," proposed Melyssa, who seemed to have realised at that moment where she was. But Philippa nodded to her, as if to shush her. He stared straight ahead, an ugly grin painted on his face.

"Wait, look who's coming!" she hissed softly, pointing at two young girls, decked out in red-gold scarves and pins, who were approaching. Alya looked at them and a sudden rush of annoyance pervaded her. They were Lily Evans and Mary McDonald, both Gryffindors. Both Muggle-borns. Prey too juicy in Philippa's eyes to pass up. Now, even Melyssa was eyeing them cruelly.

"Smell that! Don't the mudbloods ever have shower?" commented Melyssa, promptly, mimicking the gesture of holding her nose as the two Gryffindor girls were passing the little Slytherin group.

"Oh, Mel, when rot runs through your veins, no amount of soap can cover the stench!" retorted Philippa, not hiding an obnoxious smirk aimed at Evans and her friend. Beth, from behind Philippa's back, giggled audibly.

Lily Evans froze, unable to ignore the insult, and turned to Philippa, scrutinising her defiantly. Mary Mcdonald, at her side, tried to make her desist, tugging at one sleeve of her uniform. But Lily Evans advanced fearlessly.

"Perhaps the stench you smell is the one that's perpetually stuck under your spoiled brat nose!" said the red-head Gryffindor, cuttingly. It was a bold reaction that silenced both Melyssa and Philippa. The latter, who hadn't expected such a bold affront, failed to retort as promptly, remaining gasping, merely staring furiously at Lily Evans, her eyes reduced to two slits.

With a triumphant air, Lily Evans reviewed the entire quartet. However, when her emerald eyes met Alya's grey ones, she could not help but freeze. Alya looked at her, but did not see her. Her silver gaze crossed Lily Evans' strutting figure with the indifference that only Walburga had been able to teach her. The imperturbable and icy Mrs Black had taught her daughter well and the latter now knew better than to waste breath on insults to make someone feel insignificant. With all the indifference she was armed with, Alya made sure to make Lily Evans realise, by the mere power of her gaze, how little she cared what the red-head girl said or thought. How little Lily's existence was worth to her. A fictitious disinterest, of course, since if there was one person Alya really couldn't stand at Hogwarts, it was Lily Evans herself and, most ofall, her innate talent for Potions.

But Alya would have rather died than let that hidden feeling of envy leak out. Therefore, it was of paramount importance for the proud little Black to make that know-it-all Muggle-born Gryffindor understand her place.

And with a certain smugness, Alya realised that her silent stratagem had had the desired effect: the pride displayed earlier by Lily Evans gradually faded until the glint of defiance that shone in the Gryffindor girl's green eyes had finally been obliterated, giving way to a veiled shadow of fear. You can't face someone who looks as if you are not equal to either your breath or consideration.

Thus, Lily Evans turned her back on the four Slytherin girls.

"Let's go away, Mary! Forget these poisonous snakes!" she said loudly, retracing her steps, dragging her friend with her.

And while she was watching Lily Evans' walk away, Alya enjoyed a blissful sense of victory.