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 awoke many hours later, in a place she couldn't recognise.
When she opened her eyes, the little girl found out she was lying in a bed, in a little, unknown room; she had no idea to whom it belonged. There was an unfamiliar ceiling above her, made of wooden beams. Some cobwebs bivouacked here and there, in the corners.
Alya looked around the room, trying to figure out where she was. The only thing she was sure of was that, at least, she had left the forest.
But how had she got out? Who had rescued her?
A jumble of questions exploded in her head, causing an uncomfortable feeling of dizziness. Alya felt tired and confused, her addled brain couldn't cope with all the doubts which were tormenting her.
Alya's memory was fragmented, disconnected images came and went in her head, like scattered pawns in an incomplete puzzle.
She recalled Koboro, the black cobra wounded by the trap. She remembered Sirius, furious, and his look full of terror and disgust; the backward fall, the stabbing pain in the back of her head. Then it was emptiness, total darkness. Alya had no memory of what had happened after she lost consciousness. Instinctively she touched the spot where she had hit and noticed the bandage wrapped around her head. Someone must have rescued her --but who?
Her head bobbed, throbbing with pain. Alya fixed her vacant gaze on the rivulets of dust swirling lazily in the beam of light streaming through the window.
Where was she?
It was a completely unfamiliar environment, one she had never seen. It was a rather bare room, almost devoid of furniture: except for the bed in which she was lying, there was nothing but an old wooden closet, a bedside table and an unlit chandelier hanging from the sloping ceiling. Several drawings, with awkward and disproportionate features, had been posted on the walls, instead of paintings. All depicted the same subject: pirates and sailing ships. There were also some posters, cut out from some children's magazine: crewmen dressed in rags, bandages on their eyes, hooks and wooden legs instead of limbs, looked at Alya with motionless sneers and fixed gazes. The child sensed the total absence of magic in that unfamiliar room.
Muggles, she thought with dismay.
As if in response to her thoughts, at that moment, the bedroom door opened. Alya looked at it apprehensively, trying to sink as far as she could into the mattress. A young woman appeared on the doorstep, with billowing, light brown hair and a jovial face. Her tall, lanky figure was wrapped in a long, colorful dress with a garish floral pattern.
"Oh, I see you've woken up! Great, that's a good sign!" she exclaimed, looking kindly at Alya.
In her hand, the woman held a tray with a bowl and some white bands on top. The woman closed the door awkwardly, juggling the tray and the handle. She looked very funny. Alya relaxed. That stranger didn't look dangerous after all.
