The Tree of Blacks (English version)

Snakes in the Grass - pt.2

November 1972. Hogwarts.

Alya was hunched over the Potions textbook, trying to extract from the porous pages any useful information for the paper she had to write for the next day. She had had a whole week to prepare it, carefully and calmly, but her visceral aversion to the hated subject had led her to postpone the task until Sunday evening.

It was almost midnight and Little Black was not even halfway through the essay. The Slytherin common room was practically deserted at that hour, except for a very few students, including Alya and Regulus, who had decided to keep his sister company.

While Alya tried to complete her homework, Regulus killed time by practising a simple levitation spell. For weeks Professor Flitwick had abandoned the use of feathers as objects to levitate, urging first-year students to practise with larger, heavier elements. Young Black had managed to lift the heavy Transfiguration book up to the ceiling, to the height of the black chandeliers. He was watching the result of his magic with a slightly bored but satisfied air.

Alya, instead, was only huffing and cursing softly as she feverishly flipped through her Potions volume, which appeared as cryptic as a sphinx. She understood nothing of the chapter she was reading, so trying to string together sentences that made sense was proving beyond difficult. Of course, if she had jotted some notes down during the lesson, things would have been easier, but Alya had the bad habit of not listening to the slightest word Professor Slughorn said. As if under the effect of a spell, whenever she was in Potions class, Alya totally lost her ability to concentrate, wandering with her mind in thoughts which had nothing to do with ingredients, measurements, boiling times and side effects of any concoction presented during the Potions hour. But the fault was not some unknown spell cast on the listless young student; it was simply boredom.

"You could have asked Philippa or Melyssa to help you. They do pretty well in Potions," Regulus said, interrupting his sister's stream of grumbles. Now, he was floating the Transfiguration book like a light balloon, carrying it above Alya's head. Little Black froze her brother with her gaze.

"Never! I don't need their help," she blurted dryly. Alya was too proud to ask Philippa for help; she would never give her the satisfaction of seeing her in trouble. The tacit competition between the two girls hadn't died down yet.

"Indeed, I can see how you handle yourself!" Regulus commented caustically.

Without taking her eyes off the volume of Potions, Alya drew her wand and pointed it at Regulus' Transfiguration book, which floated blissfully above her head.

"Tomum pungo!" she recited seriously.

The Transfiguration book began to thunder here and there convulsively, like a balloon pricked by a pin, until it glided ruefully to the ground.

"Hey! No need to react like that!" grumbled Regulus, frowning as he picked up the book from the floor.

Ignoring her little brother's grumbles, Alya threw her head back, massaging her closed eyelids over her tired eyes.

"I'll never be able to finish! I'm hopeless!" she sighed with surrender.

"Why don't you try asking Snape? His notes are known to be even more comprehensive than Slughorn's own explanations!" advised Regulus, in a low voice, nodding fleetingly towards a young boy sitting in a corner of the common room library.

As always, Severus Snape stood in the background, waiting until the last moment before he slipped into the dormitory (perhaps to be totally sure that his roommates were already asleep when he arrived): his long hooked nose plunged between the pages of a very old-looking book, covered with a thick black cover, on which it was impossible to read the title. His greasy black hair fell over his face, like two slightly floppy curtains.