November 1966. Number twelve, Grimmauld Place

The following morning, Alya woke up suddenly, because of the sharp sound of repeated knocks against the door. Despite the strange nightmare which had made her jump to her feet in the middle of the night, the little girl had somehow managed to fall back asleep and take a last nap before dawn. Fortunately, no other frightening dreams had disturbed her sleep.

"The young lady has to get up." croaked old Kreacher's hoarse voice from behind the door.

"I'm coming, I'm coming." the little girl muttered in a thick voice.

Reluctantly, Alya slipped out of the warm sheets and got out of bed.

She quickly got ready to go to the basement kitchen for breakfast.
She left the room and went down the stairs, yawning and rubbing her eyes with one hand, still numb from the sleep that had stuck to her.

As soon as she crossed the doorstep of the kitchen, Alya was immediately enveloped by the damp gloom that perpetually lingered in that area of ​​the house.

Her little brother, Regulus, was already seated at the long wooden table, his face visibly groggy with exhaustion. Regulus had never liked to wake up early in the morning.

Alya joined him and sat down beside him.

The only one missing was Sirius and Alya couldn't help but take a look full of disapproval at his empty chair. Apparently he hadn't woken up yet, probably because he'd spent all night secretly reading his priceless adventure books.

Mom will fly off the handle... again, Alya bitterly said to herself.

But the little girl's considerations of Sirius and his disrespectful behavior were abruptly interrupted by the low muttering of her stomach.

"Kreacher, I'm hungry!", Alya whimpered, addressing the busy elf at the stove.

"Miss must have patience. Kreacher finishes preparing now.", Kreacher muttered. Alya and Regulus snorted impatiently.

After a few seconds, a small jug hovered in the air from the hob. Like an inexperienced bird, it flew shakily around the room, until it reached the long table which stood in the middle of the room, pouring copious steaming milk into the two children's cups. At the same moment, two large slices of crunchy-looking toast appeared inside the silver plates in front of Regulus and Alya, with no added ingredients: butter and jam were not allowed in the Black house, Walburga didn't tolerate any excesses, nor vices.

As the two brothers sipped their warm milk in solemn silence, Sirius burst into the kitchen. Judging by his messy face and hair, it was clear that he had just gotten out of bed, getting ready in a hurry. Sitting in the seat, facing Alya, the child glared at Kreacher with a spiteful look.

"Why didn't you wake me up, stupid?", Sirius accused the old creature.

"Kreacher knocks on the little master's doors many times, but he always ignores the poor elf. The little master accuses Kreacher unfairly." the house elf whined.

"You're a liar! I bet you did it on purpose, to spite me!"

Alya suspected that there was some truth in Sirius's words: he and Kreacher had never gotten along. The elf could not stand the child's rebellious behavior, while Sirius hated having to take orders from the old creature. In fact, Sirius hated rules in general.

However, Alya didn't like how Sirius addressed Kreacher, so she didn't stand up for her twin brother.

"Maybe you read late and didn't hear him knock this morning because you were sleeping like a log.", Alya whispered to Sirius, in a knowing voice.

The little boy glared at her.

"Don't mess with it."

"If mom finds out that you are secretly reading or that you are late again ..."

Sirius didn't let her finish.

"Well the hag isn't here yet and we're all happy! Unless you're going to be a spy!", he hissed threateningly.

Alya shrugged, but she didn't answer. Regulus continued to eat his slice of toast in strict silence, determined not to interfer with the twins' quarrel.

"My poor mistress ... she doesn't deserve a son like that ...", Kreacher muttered, shaking his head bitterly.

"Oh shut up your mouth, lumpy old bat!", Sirius barked in exasperation, throwing a piece of his bread at the old elf.

Just then, Walburga appeared on the doorstep, emerging from the darkness in all her austerity. She shot a grim look, full of scolding at all three of his children, who fell silent instantly.

"What is this din?", her voice broke out sharply as her icy eyes darted at each child.

"I want to see those empty plates in less than a minute! I'll be waiting for you upstairs in the living room. Your lesson is about to start.", she added peremptorily.

The woman looked her children severely before turning her back to them and going up the stairs. The sound of her footsteps echoed throughout the kitchen. Stillness fell into the room again, tighter than a violin string; neither Alya, Regulus, or Sirius dared to reply anything and they finished to eat their meal in a hurry.

Immediately after eating, the three children left the dark kitchen and ran upstairs, until they reached the living room. It was the largest room in the whole house. There were two big, dark velvet couches placed near a majestic marble fireplace, a black grand piano and a series of shelves brimming with several family heirlooms.

But the there was something even more precious than the old valuable objects on the shelves.

An immense tapestry hung on the wall opposite the fireplace, depicting the whole Black Family tree. It looked very old, dating back to the Middle Ages, even a bit ruined in some places. Nevertheless, its immeasurable value went far beyond the appearance. An imposing golden tree had been embroidered on the fabric, with long branches that stretched like tangles of snakes throughout the painting.

Large words at the very top of the tapestry read:

The Noble and Most Ancient House of Black

'Toujours Pur'

It was undoubtedly the most remarkable object in the house and Walburga was immensely proud of it. All the branches of her noble lineage were traced on this tapestry and, like a DNA chain, they represented the tangible proof of the purity of the magical blood which ran through the veins of each member of her family.

Since they were children, Sirius, Alya and Regulus had to memorize every single name on the tapestry and their most important ancestors' deeds.

The Blacks, in fact, were part of a small group of magical families of Great Britain, called the 'Sacred 28', or rare clans of pure wizards who had never contaminated their ancestry with mixed unions with Muggles or 'Muggle-borns'. Their origins date back even before the Middle Ages and every young Black had to study their beginnings.

Walburga Black adored her tapestry and wished to impose her same pride on her three children. However, not everyone in the family shared Mrs. Black's views. Sirius, in fact, hated that tapestry: many old relatives had carried out despicable and cruel actions towards those they considered inferior, and for this reason the child could not understand how they could be remembered with so much pride and honor. On several occasions, Sirius had expressed his stubborn refusal to pay homage to his ancestors and, for this, Walburga had severely punished him.

Alya, on the other hand, saw things in another way and felt a mysterious attraction for that tree so wonderfully intertwined: she loved to untangle with her eyes the tangle of the leafy maze that led her into the deepest meanders of the origins of her family, like an ancient labyrinth that led to the center of the Earth. Regulus also seemed to suffer the same charm, admiring the golden branches of his noble family for long minutes. Mrs. Black's pride sparkled fiercely in the little gray eyes of the two children.

Walburga was in the living room waiting for the three children, standing and motionless, contemplating with a haughty gaze out of one of the windows of the room. The pale morning light illuminated the woman's white, emaciated face, highlighting the pronounced cheekbones that gave her a hard, sharp expression. Her glacial eyes seemed to capture with cold attention every single movement outside her home, her territory.
Observing her in this way, in profile, one could not fail to notice her long pointed nose, whose shape was so perfect that it would seem that it had been polished by a skilful sculptor. The scarlet lips, in contrast to the white skin, were tightened in a perennial stern expression, devoid of any sweetness. Alya could hardly remember the times she'd seen them break into a smile. Walburga's long raven hair was, as always, styled in a neat bun, just above the nape of the neck. A few locks had escaped the clips and fell softly around the woman's pretty face.

Walburga wore a long dark dress that emphasized her tall, slender figure. She wore no jewelry, except for a silver locket which always encircled her neck. Alya couldn't remember any time she hadn't seen this necklace on her. Nobody knew what the pendant contained, except Walburga, who jealously guarded the secret, as if it were a talisman. On the visible part of the locket, there was the engraving of a large pointed and stylized branch, which extended across the entire silver surface. It seemed to pick up on the family tapestry motif.

As soon as they entered the living room, the three siblings were greeted by a neutral 'Bonjour' from their mother. That morning a long French lesson awaited them; French was, in fact, the foreign language that Mrs Black preferred most of all, both for its melodious and elegant sounds, and for its wide use in high society. Moreover, the same family motto was recited in French and this made us understand how much the Blacks felt that foreign language so tied to their noble values.

Walburga ordered her three children to sit on one of the two couches near the fireplace and they obeyed without blinking an eye. Then, the woman held her wand and waved it lightly in the air. In front of the three siblings, a double-sided blackboard appeared immediately, along with a long bamboo pole, which positioned itself threateningly next to the sofa. Sirius gave the object an angry, but also fearful gaze. He and that stick had had a painful past.

Without taking her cold gaze from the window, Walburga pointed to the blackboard with her wand, saying:

"Regardez le tableau, s'il vous plaît."

White writing quickly appeared on the black slate surface which clearly read:

'C'est comme un arbre, notre famille
Ses branches jamais vacillent.
Toujours pur, toujours uni
Que nos ennemis soient punis.'

Alya stared at the words of her family's song with enchanted eyes, filled with pride. Sirius, sitting next to her, instead watched them with ill-concealed exasperation.
Walburga asked each of her children to recite the chant in turn, listening to them with strict attention.

Alya declared the verses in a crystalline tone and impeccable pronunciation. She had always loved French. Regulus also recited the chant correctly, although his voice sounded a little more uncertain than his sister's.

When Sirius's turn came, the atmosphere in the room suddenly changed, becoming inexplicably tense. For the first time, Walburga's sparkling eyes broke off the gray landscape beyond the window and she pointed them at her son.

Sirius recited the words written on the board quickly, reluctantly. His smug expression made it clear that he didn't care much for the lesson.

A sinister gleam crossed the Mrs. Black's eyes, who glared at the child with a malevolent gaze.

It all happened in a second. The long bamboo pole which loomed over the child suddenly moved and hit violently Sirius' back, who nearly fell to the floor. The sound of the whip echoed throughout the living room. Alya heard the hiss of the lash buzz in her ear and she shivered.

"Again", Walburga said sharply. She stared hard at her son, like a hunter stalking his prey.
The bamboo stick now tapped threateningly, bouncing off the floor, as if it was waiting for nothing more than another chance to lash the poor boy a blow.

Sirius was forced to repeat the French words. He pronounced them correctly, with a prefect pronunciation. Nevertheless, he stared at his mother with pure hatred in his eyes all the time. The lash had hurt his pride more than his body. The mother's face remained impassive. However, the long stick stopped tapping the floor and floated back a few inches above the ground.

Then, Walburga turned to all three of her children and spoke in a solemn voice:

"Children, I want you to listen to me very carefully. This is our song. The song of our venerable family. Our ancestors created it and handed it down from generation to generation, up to us. An ancient chant, from which our precious motto, Toujours pur, was born."

The woman looked for a moment at the large tapestry hanging on the wall, full of pride.

"As my children and therefore descendants of the noble Black clan, you must keep these words in your hearts. They represent our essence. So, make them yours, they are part of you.", she finally declared.

Alya and Regulus welcomed their mother's solemn words with fierce admiration. Sirius, on the other hand, seemed to be on the verge of throwing up.

Walburga gave her wand a sharp blow and in an instant the words disappeared from the blackboard, which was immaculate again.
The rest of the lesson went smoothly. Mrs Black explained some grammatical aspects of the French language and required her children to repeat the verbal conjugations they had studied the previous week.

By the time the lesson was over, it was already time for lunch. Walburga ordered Sirius, Alya and Regulus to return to the kitchen.

As they descended the stairs, Alya spoke to Sirius, worried:

"Did it hurt you?", she asked pointing to the whip in the back.

"Mind your own business!", he barked at her sharply. It was clear that he didn't want to talk about it. He had been humiliated and his sister's pity made him feel worse.
Alya frowned. She just wanted to be close to him. But he always answered her badly.

"Well, I think you asked for it! You know how much mom cares about the family song and you mispronounced it on purpose.", she retorted offended.

"In my opinion, those words are just a load of rubbish. Like that hag our mother!", Sirius hissed contemptuously.

Alya was about to scold him again, but Sirius had already passed her, leaving her behind. Unlike Sirius, the words he called 'junk' had great significance to Alya.

The little girl considered them important not so much for purity of blood, but for the profound sense of family unity to which they seemed to aspire. In fact, each member of House Black was tied to that song and motto, as well as to their mighty family tree, which was its solid foundation.

Alya liked to think that she, her parents, her brothers and all her noble ancestors were all tied tightly to each other, in that intricate tangle of branches embroidered on the tapestry. And although Sirius despised it, he was part of the tree too, forever anchored to the same branch as Alya, because he was her twin.

Alya sighed bitterly and quickened her pace, as she repeated in her heart only two simple words from the Black family chant: Toujours uni.