The Tree of Blacks (English version)

Flying Lesson

24 March, 1977. Hogwarts, Forbidden Forest.

Alya measured the perimeter of the clearing in stride, snorting furiously like a dragon. It had been days of long waiting, which had seemed endless to the girl.

At last Wednesday evening had arrived, and with it the customary secret rendezvous between James and Alya.

In order to defend the clandestinity of their relationship, Alya had been forced to repress every single emotion that the Gryffindor's latest adventures in the girls' bathroom on the first floor had triggered in her.

Now that she was safely tucked away in the leafy vegetation of the Forbidden Forest, Alya felt free to voice all her thoughts, sprinkling the air with mixed tones of anger, apprehension and blame.

James, for his part, stood in the middle of the clearing, motionless and unsure of how to appease the fierce reproaches the girl was pouring out at him.

Of all the welcomes Alya had given him in their meetings in the woods, that one had undoubtedly been the least warm.

"I can't believe it. I just can't believe it!" kept muttering Alya on repeat, like a broken record. "Do you realise how reckless you've been, Potter?" she ranted, looking grimly at James.

"I just noticed a shady movement and acted. What else was I supposed to do?" retorted the Gryffindor boy, trying to defend himself against Black's implacable gaze.

"What do I know, maybe warn a teacher first", retorted Alya, pretending to ponder fanciful guesses. James burst out laughing mockingly; never in his entire career at Hogwarts had he needed the help of a teacher to solve his personal issues. On the contrary, it was usually the teachers who intervened against him and grounded him, to protect the students he was targeting.

"Or, you could have called for reinforcements and had my brother and your other little friends have your back," Alya continued undaunted, blithely ignoring the Gryffindor's dismissive reaction.

"I walked into Moaning Myrtle's bathroom, not a Basilisk's lair!"* I didn't think I'd have to put up a fight for my life", James justified himself, a little testily.

"And look how you got out!"

"Don't overreact! It's just a few scratches. And, besides, do you really think I can't handle myself against Snivellus?" he asked, outraged.

"What if it wasn't just Snape inside that bathroom? Did you think of that? The point is, Potter, you're in no position to act on impulse, and more importantly, alone!" reiterated young Black, unyielding.

"Look I can take care of myself", muttered the Gryffindor, gloomy in the face. He didn't like the fact that Alya didn't consider him capable of pulling it off in a clash of spells.

"You must realise that, right now, you are the most hated student among the Slytherins. All my classmates cheered when they found out what had happened to you. Some even hoped you had lost a hand in that stupid fight!"

"I'm touched." commented James, sarcastically. He quickly ran his hand through his hair, boastfully.

"Don't joke, I'm serious! You can't afford to act reckless. The risk is too high!" concluded Alya, in a calmer, but no less uncompromising voice.

James snorted impatiently. He didn't like being picked on like a child, although part of him admitted that Alya had a point.

"Alright, I get the lesson," he said finally, conceding her point. "I'll be more careful next time, I promise. Anyway, I'm fine. Don't worry."

"Well, Snape will be pleased to know you're fit as a fiddle," Alya ironized, with a half-smile. But he instantly flinched. "By the way, you told everyone you didn't see who attacked you... why did you lie and not report it?" she asked seriously, back on the warpath.