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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Alya couldn't sleep that night. On the one hand, her soul throbbed with pure excitement; the desire of revenge had aroused her spirit as if fanned by a burning flame. On the other, once invaded by that profound illumination that had thunderstruck her as she dusted the encrusted ampoules in Slughorn's dungeon, Alya knew she had to take advantage of the lonely, dark night to put it into practice.
When she slipped inside the Slytherin common room, she found herself alone, immersed in the dense silence, with only the crackling of the fire spurting in the marble fireplace to interrupt the muted whispering of the night. It was late and all her housemates had long since taken refuge in their respective beds. A perfect situation.
Alya took a seat on the black leather sofa near the fireplace. She placed her bag next to her as she turned her eyes towards the sizzling flames, the only source of light in the room, except for the green torches in the majestic chandelier that floated just below the stone ceiling. The windows, which usually afforded a placid view of the depths of the Black Lake, seemed to have been covered in black paint, obscured by the dark waters that seemed to have turned into an expanse of black ink.
Alya contemplated the lively dance of the flames, sinuous and scarlet. She smiled at the fire, as if at an accomplice. She reached into her purse and from one of the outside pockets pulled out a small, empty and completely anonymous vial, part of a stash she was in the habit of carrying around in case of need. Meanwhile, he slipped the wand from his sleeve, holding it in midair, ready for use. Young Black's grey eyes meticulously scrutinised the small cruet, weighing its features and measurements. The girl's calculating mind was already comparing it to the one containing the Veritaserum, which had been studied in great detail a short time before. She turned it to one side, then the other, as the swirling, tawny glow of the fire mingled on the glassy surface of the vial with the faint emerald flashes from the ceiling. Alya smiled smugly, grateful at how the situation was unexpectedly turning in her favour; how events had given her the spark of inspiration for a new plan. And the Veritaserum potion would be the main pivot.
Of course, Alya was well aware that it would be impossible for her to get her hands on the original serum, let alone prepare it herself. However, that wasn't a problem: after all, it wasn't essential to have the real Veritaserum, it was enough to simply make the person in charge believe she had it. And if there was one thing Alya excelled at, it was manipulating reality to her advantage. Not only with words, but also through magic. Not for nothing, she was one of the top students in her year's Transfiguration class. Thanks to her talents, Alya would manage, despite the unfortunate setback she had stumbled upon, to obtain the valuable information on the Potions exam.
It took Alya a few hours before she perfectly finished her work of Transfiguration. The thick black ink that flooded the windows of the common room was now beginning to tear, staining itself with stretched purple streaks, heralding the now imminent dawn.
With her eyes tired from the prolonged work of observation, Alya proudly studied the result of her portentous magic: the flask, anonymous and innocent at first, now looked completely identical to the one she had observed during her moments of punishment, containing Veritaserum. Even the golden cap sparkled with the same lustre, radiating with the glow of the flames. Alya grabbed the jug full of water, always present on the small table in front of the sofa and always available to the thirsty students, and poured a small amount of its contents into the transfigured cruet. Fortunately, the Veritaserum appeared colourless and transparent, as harmless as water; it would have been impossible from a mere glance to guess the falsehood that the flask contained.
