July 1971. Cornwall.

Alya lay on her back on the grass, trying to shelter in the shade of the thick foliage of a big oak. The sky was clear and blue, not even a cloud obscured the strong rays of the sun which were hitting her skin.

Every summer, the Black family usually left their gloomy house in Grimmauld Place in London, to find refuge in the quiet of a place near the coast, lost among the rugged cliffs of Cornwall.

In this distant place, Orion Black had inherited a vast estate from his wealthy father, Arcturus Black, with a magnificent manor included, whose gray, imposing silhouette stood majestically in the midst of the verdant landscape. The building was huge, with several rooms inside, able to accommodate even more than one family.

Alya loved spending her summer there. It was a quiet place, surrounded by nature and by the smell of salty air from the coast.

Under the big oak of the inner courtyard, the little girl was browsing through a book, while her two brothers were outside the manor, probably practising at flying on their broomsticks, because of Quidditch. This was the most popular sport in the wizarding world. It consisted of six tall goalposts, four flying balls and a lot of difficult rules which Alya had never cared about to learn. And fourteen players flying on board broomsticks, of course.

In the Black House, all male family members seemed to consider Quidditch to be a sort of religion.

Orion Black was a very good player at school and he enjoyed talking about his sporting experiences of his youth every now and then.

"Quidditch teaches you discipline. It strengthens both the mind and the body" Mr. Black always repeated with proud.

Sirius and Regulus had inevitably inherited the father's passion about sport and Quidditch, therefore they loved playing together and practising with their broomsticks.

Ever since the Black family had come in Cornwall for summer holidays, Sirius and Regulus had spent more time flying in the air around the manor than on the ground.

Regulus had begged his big sister to join them several times, but Alya had always firmly refused. She totally hated flying and she hated brooms. There was no way to convince her to be stuck with a wobbly broomstick, floating in the air. It was much safer to stay on the ground, reading a good book.

Under the oak, with her back against the massive trunk, Alya sighed, as she imagined her brothers on board their broomsticks, flitting about who knows where.

However, this wasn't the only thing she was thinking about. As a matter of fact, Alya wasn't truly reading the pages of the huge book opened on her knees either. She was deeply and completely absorbed in her own thoughts. One in particular stood out from the rest, tormenting her.

In autumn, Alya and Sirius had celebrated their eleventh birthday and, as consequence, they had received a letter which had informed them about their birthright to study at the famous Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

Within a month, Alya and her twin brother would leave for Hogwarts, where they would started their education about magical arts.

Sirius, of course, was very excited and he was looking forward to getting the train and going far away from his stern family - expecially from the austere Walburga.

But Alya didn't feel the same enthusiasm. Obviously, she was happy to go to Hogwarts. However, a part of her was gripped by a hidden fear: for the first time in her life, she would have lived away from her family, and especially from her brother Regulus (he would start the school of magic only the following year) who was her greatest friend and confidant. The idea of leaving her home made her feel strangely lonely.

Sirius would be with her, sure, but the twins had never got along too well and Alya feared that her brother would put a clear distance between them once they left the walls of their house in Grimmauld Place. She had never been very good at making new friends. And without Regulus as her wingman, she would have felt lost.

Alya closed her eyes and took a deep breath, inhaling the salty air into her lungs and exhaling deeply. She tried to banish those agitated thoughts, entrusting them to the light summer breeze.

Suddenly, a shrill voice reached her ears: Regulus was calling out to her. Alya stood up limply and walked home. Her little brother frowned at her.

"Are you deaf, now? I've been calling you for a century!"

"What a bore! I'm here, right?" Alya snorted.

"Mom wants us all in the dining room, we'll eat soon. She's already pretty angry, so we better hurry." Regulus explained brusquely.

"What's happened?" Alya questioned, seriously concerned.

"Sirius" he sighed with disapproval "He flew away while we were playing Quidditch and he came back home late."

"What? And where did he go?"

"He found out that a Muggle family moved in the little house beyond our wood. He wanted to spy them, I suppose." Regulus replied with sharp indifference. Alya sighed exasperated.

On the edge of the vast Arcturus Black's estate, there was a small grove which the Blacks used as a natural border between them and the Muggle world. A barrier used to hide themselves and their house from prying eyes, made even more impenetrable by the powerful spells of Orion Black.
If any Muggle had entered the grove, an insane, inexplicable fear would have caught him, forcing him to backtrack.

In this way, no one but the Black family members could enter the magical, secret estate.
Likewise, it was forbidden for the little heirs of the Black family to cross the border beyond the grove and mingle with the non-magical world.
Never let the Muggles see you. That was the supreme rule of the Clan, as Alya's mother stated everytime.

However, this prohibition seemed not to enter the head of Walburga's disobedient eldest son. Since he was very young, he showed a peculiar interest in Muggles and in that non-magical world which looked like so distant from his. A dangerous curiosity, which often led the rebel child to many troubles and punishments.

Another slight sigh slipped from her lips, as she already predicted the stern reproaches Sirius would soon face.

Alya and Regulus quickened their pace to reach the dining room in time. They perfectly knew that Walburga was already enraged enough, so it was best not to make the situation worse.

***

After the frugal meal, all the five Blacks dispersed in the immense manor.

Alya and Regulus were sent upstairs to play.

Sirius had to stay downstairs, in the dining room, with Walburga, in order to be subjected to the harsh reproach inside his mother's words.

Orion Black quickly vanished into the library of the house, instead. He preferred to be enveloped by silence and surrounded by ancient books rather than deal with the education of his heirs. This was a duty earmarked to the mother.

Alya partly understood her father's desire to shut himself up in the library of Arcturus Black's manor. The room was located on the ground floor and, although it was quite small compared to the other rooms in the house, the library housed books and volumes of inestimable value. The walls were flanked by high wooden shelves, which kept ancient manuscripts, handed down from generation to generation, transmitting a powerful magical knowledge that otherwise would have been lost.

Some of them, carefully and jealously hidden, dealt with archaic spells of Dark Magic, in which the ancient house of Black was deeply interested. It was not possible to take the volumes from Arcturus' house and take them away from the library. Powerful protective spells had been put on each book, inextricably bound to the manor's small library.

In fact, if any manuscript was taken outside the estate, it would automatically be destroyed: the precious pages full of secret spells would be engulfed in flames, leaving nothing but a pile of ash in the hands of the hypothetical thief.

Alya assumed that the library was an undoubtedly fascinating room where to spend time. She had never visited it. She wasn't allowed. Only the adults of the House of Black had the right to enter the room and refer the ancient books inside it.

Fortunately, the Arcturus Black's manor was endowed with many other marvellous rooms.
Alya, for example, was enjoying some fairy moments into the Hall of Feasts. This room was once reserved for dances and important receptions. Social attitudes that the Blacks had lost over the years. Nevertheless, the Hall of Feasts was Alya's absolute favorite place in the entire palace.

The room was full of gold and opulence. The dominant element was the light, which entered copiously through the large windows. A gilded ceiling overlooked the room below and four glittering crystal chandeliers floated in midair, as if hung from invisible threads; flaming candles emerged from the diamond filaments, permanently lit by magic. Two tall silver mirrors towered, hung on walls, and they faithfully reflected the opulence of the entire room. Sumptuous golden curtains hung in front of the windows, which overlooked the estate's outdoor garden.

Alya really loved the Hall of Feasts, although it was unused. She really loved dancing, too. Every now and then, the little girl went inside the room, dived into the dazzling, golden light and dance. She moved her body and feet harmoniously, as she was daydreaming about delicate notes of waltz, surrounding her like a gentle embrace.

And so did Alya the instant her parents gave her the permission to go play. She ran upstairs with Regulus, occupied her loved Hall of Feasts and started to dance, pretending to be a princess.

Meanwhile, Regulus was spending his time in the room next to the Hall of Feasts. It was a large chamber, with an octagonal shape. Walls, floor and ceiling were white like marble and, as in the Hall of Feasts, every corner of the room was radiated by the sunlight, which penetrated through tha tall windows.

The octagonal hall was also called The Temple of Apollo, because of the several decorations painted on the walls. The whole room was adorned in honor of the famous Greek god. In the center of the ceiling, there was a majestic painting depicted Apollo driving the chariot of the sun (symbol of the wizard who brings light to the rest of the world). The mythological image was surrounded by lunettes representing all the constellations of the zodiac.

Below the lunettes, there were three large panels, which portrayed the story about Phaeton, the Apollo's son, who dared drive his father's chariot. In this way, he risked to bring destruction on the world, setting fire to earth and sky, due to his inability.

The emblematic figure of Phaeton was a clear reference to those which did not possess the gift of magic, and thus considered unworthy to lead the reins of the fate of the world.

Regulus loved the story about Apollo and Phaeton. He could stay hours and hours sitting on the floor, his eyes stuck on the panels, in admiration of the myth.

So he was there, in the octagonal hall, observing all the mythological images around him, while Alya danced in the next room.

"Alya, come here! Hurry!" Regulus suddenly yelled.

Alya stopped her imaginary feast and immediately reached her brother. She had perceived the urgency in the boy's voice.

"What?"she questioned.

"Look up there! Can you see it?" Regulus asked, pointing something on the ceiling.

But Alya couldn't understand what he referred to.

"What do you mean? What should I see?"

"The lunettes! I mean... the constellations of the zodiac. They should be twelve, right? But they are thirteen!" Regulus exclaimed as he found out something incredible.

"Maybe you counted wrong..." Alya replied, making fun of him.

"I'm not wrong!" Regulus protested, "I'm sure about it! Look!"

Alya smiled at him with affection and decided to play along. She turned her gaze upward, as her little brother suggested, and she started to count the lunettes representing the zodiac signs.

Alya had to change her mind. She counted the signs one more time, with widened eyes. Regulus was right. The zodiac signs were not twelve. There were thirteen lunettes around the walls. But they were too small and far to interpret which kind of figures they represented exactly.

"It could be a mistake by the artist who painted the room..." Alya supposed.

"I don't think so. I believe it was made on purpose." Regulus replied, convinced.

"But what kind of image is it? I can't see clearly from here." Alya tried to focus on the little drawing, in vain.

"It's too small!" Regulus snorted, discouraged, as he stood up on tiptoe, trying to shorten the distance from the ceiling.

"We should ask dad. I'm sure he knows what that does mean." Alya stated.

Suddenly, a thunderous noise instantly interrupted Alya and Regulus' conversation. There was a violently slamming door, followed by the clear sound of angry footsteps.

"Sirius and mom must have finished fighting." Alya remarked in a bitter voice.

"They always fight these two." Regulus commented, disconsolate. "I don't understand why Sirius keeps behaving like this. He knows mom flies off the handle!"

"He acts like this on purpose. He wants to challenge her." Alya simply answered.

"And why does he want to challenge mom?" Regulus asked.

"Because Sirius hates her, of course!" said his sister, with a bitter smile on her face.

Regulus sighed, shaking his head. He closed his eyes, as if to think better. Then added in a sad voice:

"Sirius hates us all, I'm afraid."

Alya didn't answer. Commenting on these words would make them real.
She let this horrible sentence remain in silence, suspended in the air, in the hope that this sad truth would vanish into the ether like a soap bubble.