The Tree of Blacks (English version)

Golden Sand, Scarlet Drops

18 March, 1977. Hogwarts, Forbidden Forest.

"You're going too fast, Black." the voice of James Potter thundered across the small clearing of the Forbidden Forest.

"But the book says to add winged toad's pustule extract after letting the potion simmer for five minutes..." protested Alya, her thin nose dipped between the pages of her copy of Advanced Potions.

"Exactly! And it's only been four and a half. You have to wait." the boy pointed out, tapping the glass surface of a small pocket hourglass with his wand. It was a very useful magical instrument: the golden sand inside it could be adjusted according to need, through a simple formula, Eligo Tempora. Such objects were very much in vogue at the time, especially among professional potters, given the absolute time precision they guaranteed.

The personal workshop of James's father, Mr Fleamont Potter, was crawling with such hourglasses, and his son had one given to him to use at school to improve his performance at Potions.

"And what difference can thirty seconds less make?" grumbled the girl.

"All the difference in the world if you want to pass the Potions test!" the Gryffindor apostrophised her.

Alya snorted audibly, pouting.

"Black, you're in too much of a hurry to finish. Don't think about the end result, try to focus exclusively on each step, one at a time. Remember: the essential ingredient for any potion is..."

"... patience." sang the Slytherin, rolling her eyes.

James shook his head, exasperated. He had done everything he could to grab himself an extra shift to use the Marauder's Map that week to help Alya improve in the subject she so detested. However, the Gryffindor boy hadn't imagined that the task would be so arduous and exhausting. Alya immediately proved to be an extremely difficult pupil to deal with, surly and contrary; touchy and not at all inclined to accept criticism. She took advantage of any downtime to express all her impatience; moreover, she had a tendency to be easily distracted by her constant complaints about how unfair Slughorn had been to her and how Potions was a useless subject, not at all suited to her magical talents.

More than once that night, James considered the idea of hexing her with a silencing spell, so as to make mute the girl's insistent and annoying gnawing. Luckily for him, he had the good sense to suppress the impulse. James knew Alya well by now: he knew how vengeful she could be if instigated, and her ability to cast powerful spells without any difficulty was legend throughout Hogwarts.

The Gryffindor, as impatient and tired as he was, really didn't want to end up hanging upside down on the top of some lost tree in the depths of the Forbidden Forest.

Meanwhile, Alya had administered the drops of winged toad extract and was about to read the next procedure.

"Stir the resulting decoction for exactly fifteen minutes clockwise and another fifteen counterclockwise... What a drag!" she whimpered in disgust.

"Come on, it's the last effort, after that you just have to let the brew rest," James tried to reassure her, without too much transport. He quickly waved his wand and calibrated the sand in the small hourglass again.

Alya reluctantly grabbed a ladle from her bag, dipped it into the liquid and began to slowly draw large circles in a clockwise direction, as the book suggested. James, exhausted, squatted down next to the girl, pulled a vibrant Golden Snitch from one of his trouser pockets and began to fiddle with it, as was his habit when he wanted to kill time.

"And that Golden Twitch?" commented Alya scornfully, earning an immediate glare from James.

"Scratched during last practice... and besides, it's not Twitch, it's Snitch!" the Gryffindor corrected her, glowering at her from behind his round glasses.