Alya Merope Black, twin to Sirius, beloved sister to Regulus and daughter to Walburga and Orion Black.
The complete opposite to her twin Sirius, Alya is the typical pureblood Slytherin, full of ambition and arrogance.
But something strange is going...
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September 1971. King's Cross.
A leaden, cloudy sky accompanied the entire Black family to King's Cross station.
Many Muggles were astonished at their arrival, casting puzzled glances at the unusual clothes they had; the two large trolleys, laden with highly strange stuff, didn't go unnoticed either. But Orion and Walburga didn't give them the slightest glance. The presence of so many Muggles in one place annoyed them, as if they had entered a room overrun with cockroaches. The expression of utter disgust painted on the algid Mrs Black's face made her every thought on the matter transparent.
At the platform beteween number nine and ten, the five Blacks positioned themselves in front of a stone wall. Trying to be as inconspicuous as possible, they waited for the most opportune moment to cross the magic barrier.
"Need any help?" one of the station attendants asked Mr Black in a polite voice. The latter answered him with the most contemptuous look he possessed, as if he had been addressed by a huge insect and not a person, but he didn't utter a single syllable. Walburga merely ignored the polite man in uniform as if she hadn't heard him. The Muggle was astonished at such a rude reaction.
Alya heard him comment "These foreigners, what blowhards!" as he walked away, shaking his head in annoyance.
"Now seems a good time -- Alya, Sirius, go first. Quickly and without hesitation, as I explained," Orion told the twins.
Sirius, who had been showing signs of impatience ever since he woke up that morning, had started running towards the wall before his father had even finished speaking. In a flash he was gone. Alya imitated him, following close behind. Within seconds, the whole Black family had passed through the barrier, finally coming out at platform nine and three quarters.
The platform was packed with pawing young wizards and the families who had accompanied them, all enveloped in a vaporous blanket of white smoke, spewed from the scarlet train, waiting on the tracks.
Orion and Walburga cast disapproving glances all around. The grimace of contempt had not left their faces. Mrs Black continued to wrinkle her nose and tighten her lips, as if the air around her was impregnated with an unpleasant smell. But it was not the smell that made her nauseous.
"Have you seen how many half-bloods there are? And how many mudbloods?" she whispered malevolently to her husband.
He shook his head indignantly.
"Every year it's worse and worse. All the fault of that old muggle headmaster. At this rate Hogwarts will no longer be worthy of calling itself 'School of Witchcraft and Wizardry'."
"This is utter rubbish. An outrage!" commented Walburga in a slightly louder voice, as she looked in horror at a little boy who must have been about the same age as Alya, only a few metres away from them. The little boy looked at everything around him with eyes full of wonder. Judging by the clothes he was wearing, it was clear that he came from a Muggle family. A mudblood, as the Blacks used to call the Muggleborns.
