The Tree of Blacks (English version)

New Scars, Old Wounds

19 March, 1977. Hogwarts, Slytherin common room.

Although a looming spring was attempting to combat the remnants of the icy winter with its timid warmth, in the dungeons of Hogwarts the damp, biting air persisted in torturing the parched bodies of those who dwelt there with uncomfortable chills.

To combat the frigid humidity, Alya had taken a seat on the black leather sofa, strictly in front of the sumptuous marble fireplace, where a blazing hot fire crackled.

Appeased by the warmth of the flames, the girl sat elegantly as her eyes devoured with dogged voracity the passages of a very complicated magical brew, illustrated by what had now become her inseparable reading companion: the Advanced Potions book.

At Alya's side was Regulus, also immersed in a mad study of Transfiguration and its innumerable definitions.

Ever since Slughorn had threatened Alya with exclusion from the Potions course, the two Black siblings had made a habit of spending every spare moment together to study; Regulus prepared for his O.W.L's with painstaking discipline, determined to achieve perfection in every subject, Alya toiled to catch up with the subject she hated the most.

At first, the youngest of the Blacks had candidly offered to help his sister with Potions, but Alya had flatly refused, urging him to concentrate exclusively on his final exams, which were far more important. Regulus had reluctantly given up on his generous intentions, ignoring the fact that a bespectacled and dishevelled Gryffindor had already come to the maiden's aid. An information that, for obvious reasons, Alya had carefully omitted.

With the exception of the two Black brothers, the Slytherin common room was looking rather empty. Most of their other mates were wandering around the castle, studying in the Great Hall or in the library. A few small groups of silver-green students were stationed within the hidden walls of the dungeons. Among them, seated at a table not far from the fireplace, Alya recognised the shady grunts of Avery and Mulciber. They were in the same year as her own, but the noble Black had always been careful not to associate with them: the two boys were part of that small category of Slytherins who were mediocre, but nevertheless eager to show off.

Recently, the unsavoury pair had welcomed another member, Severus Snape, with whom they delighted in inventing, through the use of Dark Magic, poisons and spells to be tested on the younger Muggleborns.

These tricks were non-lethal, but cruel enough to inflict a few hours of pain on the unfortunate. Some of their spells could even leave gruesome and everlasting marks, with the sole purpose of denigrating those they considered inferior by birth.

That the Muggle-borns, the mudbloods, shouldn't enjoy the privilege of being considered wizards and that there should be no place for them at Hogwarts was an idea more than shared by most Slytherins, yet the levity with which Mulciber, Avery and Snape used Dark Magic spells in the corridors of the school, annoyed their House mates almost as much as anyone else within the school.

A rather hypocritical disapproval when one considered the fact that almost all the families of the Sacred 28 had never abandoned their ancient connection with the Dark Arts, secretly guarding in their personal libraries ancient and forbidden manuscripts that they continued to study with profusion.

However, it was one thing to try one's hand at obscure spells from time to time, safe in one's lofty abodes and away from the prying eyes of those who condemned certain values, it was quite another to flaunt one's - mediocre - Black Magic skills in the midst of all the students and faculty of Hogwarts. Snape's, Avery's and Mulciber's little jokes against the Muggle-borns seemed to loudly announce their desire to become Lord Voldemort's next proselytes, the Death Eaters.