Chapter Text
Call me Mira.
My full name is Margarita Hecate Black.
Margarita is my father’s favorite cocktail, Mamma’s favorite flower, and a sky full of stars.
Hecate is the goddess of the night and of magic.
Black is the family you are thinking of, the “Toujours Pur” Blacks.
I did not want to go to Hogwarts.
My father is the infamous Sirius Black.
In Britain, they would never let me forget it: I am “the murderer’s daughter”, “the traitor’s daughter”. In Italy, people have other things to gossip about.
But this September 1st, I’ll be boarding the Hogwarts Express.
Why?
Because I kept dreaming of a figure, blurrier each time, but always present. He was tall, with elegant black hair and storm-grey eyes. He would lift me high into the air, pretend to let go, but always catch me, steady as gravity. Yet, when I reach for his face, he would vanish like a puff of smoke. And I would wake up drenched in sweat again.
That dream was all I had left of my father.
Everyone says I look exactly like him. But I couldn't even remember what he looked like. I wanted to see him — those storm-grey eyes, that dark hair — clearly, at least once. Because only when I had seen him truly, could I begin to see myself.
My best friend lives in England. His name is Draco Malfoy. He’s clingy, a bit ridiculous, but strangely endearing. He fusses over me constantly and always demands that we spend more time together. You can’t really say no to Draco Malfoy, and honestly, I do not want to. He is the Jack to my Jill.
Aunt Cissy is Mamma’s best friend. She and Uncle Lucius have always loved me as their own. By now, “father” looked half like Nonno and half like Uncle Lucius.
It was a bright, wind-swept afternoon, the sky open and brilliantly blue. Draco and I were practicing on our toy brooms. I was right on his tail: accelerating, turning, diving…We were seconds away from crashing straight into the ground.
Draco pulled up just in time, soaring smoothly back into the air. I tried to follow, but it was too late. I toppled clean off my broom.
He dove, caught me midair, and we tumbled together onto the soft grass. We weren’t high up and he had cushioned the fall. I wasn’t hurt at all. If anything, I found it funny. We rolled to a stop under a spreading hawthorn before Draco finally loosened his hold, pale with concern.
“That was close! Stop laughing! Are you hurt?”
I groaned dramatically. “Ah, Draco! Help me! If you’d come just a second later, I would’ve been —”
“Where does it hurt?” he fell right into my trap. I seized his arm and started tickling him until he yelped.
“Oh no! Too late! I’m completely healed!”
“You little liar! Do you know how worried I was?” he scolded, though his hands retaliated just as fast.
“Relax! If you’re fine, I’m fine. Nothing can hurt me when you’re around!”
“You were holding the broom too low,” he said sternly, brushing grass off his robes. “That way the broom can never respond in time. Next time, hold it higher. And don’t try risky maneuvers you’re not ready for.”
“Yes, Coach Malfoy,” I said, not bothering to hide my smirk.
“Lucky you didn’t get hurt. If you were, Aunt Thia would tear me limb from limb!”
“She would never do that to her little darling Drama-co!”
His face went crimson.
“Oh, shut up, little pearl! You’re so reckless! What will become of you if I’m not around?”
“Don’t curse yourself! That day will never come! No one, not even death, can separate us.”
“Ha! You’d haunt me even after death? Horrid!” he laughed. “I’m not dying with you! I quite like my life. I plan to live a long, long time.”
“Alright, alright! No more of that word! Bad omen! Fine, you win! But if we were to try anything a little more intellectual, I’d definitely beat you!”
“Oh please! Only if I let you win, you little fool.”
“Who are you calling a fool?!” I twisted his arm until he begged for mercy. “If you’re so confident, let’s bet on it! Want to try something new?”
I pulled out a deck of ancient, vibrant-colored cards: something magical was humming inside, eager to escape.
“I won these off a classmate. It’s a fortune-teller’s deck called ‘Exploding Futures’. It customizes trivia questions according to your future, one per year. It gives you the answer and you have to come up with the right question, like Jeopardy! And if you don’t answer in time…”
I leaned in for dramatic effect and made a grand boom gesture with my whole body.
“…it explodes?”
“Right in your face!”
“You’re way too excited about this,” he shook his head. “Fine. Let’s start. First year at Hogwarts…”
This magical object shows us the deepest, most desperate desires of our hearts. But if we dwell on dreams and forget to live, it gives us neither knowledge nor truth.
“Oh, I know this one! Mamma told me — What is the Mirror of Erised?” I said confidently.
The card quivered and glowed green. Correct.
“Moving on to second year…”
This magical object can change your outward appearance and help you deceive the world, but it cannot alter your true self. That’s what matters most.
“I read about this just yesterday! What is Polyjuice Potion?” Draco smirked, leaning back in that lazy, smug way of his, waiting for me to shower him with admiration.
“Couldn’t it be Animagus?”
“Magical object, Mira.”
The card glowed green again. He shot me that look: Told you so. I ignored him.
“Alright then! Third year…”
Feared for its monthly transformations, this creature is often judged by its appearance. Yet, what truly matters is invisible to the eye.
We both froze. Seconds ticked by. The card began to smoke.
Draco hesitated, unsure if he dared to say this. “Could it be… a wo — ”
“It's a werewolf! What is a werewolf?”
Right before it exploded, the card turned green. I exhaled.
“Phew! That was close. Fourth year!”
This magical school with fairytale-like elegance teaches us that true magic lies not in grandeur, but in opening one’s heart to the unfamiliar and the beautiful.
“Beauxbatons! What is Beauxbatons?” I declared at once.
“Not Durmstrang?”
“‘Fairytale-like elegance,’ not ‘frozen misery!’” I retorted. The card shimmered green in agreement.
“Fine, fine! Fifth year…”
This magical object reveals lies. But it also reminds us that truth without freedom can be just as dangerous.
“I know this! What is Veritaserum?”
I almost said Legilimency, but Draco’s voice echoed in my head, “Magical object, Mira”, so I bit my tongue. The card turned green.
“Sixth year! So close to the grand finale!”
Often used to vanish or to escape, this object teaches us that true bonds defy distance. Love always finds a way, even in the darkest times and through the narrowest cracks.
“Oh, I know this one!” I jumped up. “It's the wardrobe to Narnia! Mamma said it was all the rage during the First Wizarding War!”
Draco chuckled. “You mean the Vanishing Cabinet. What is the Vanishing Cabinet?”
Correct.
“Yes! You’re amazing, Draco! You really are a Vanishing Cabinet expert!”
“Well, who else would it be, if not me?” He looked far too pleased with himself.
“Alright! Seventh year: the ultimate question! Final Jeopardy! ”
This is the most powerful and most feared magic in the world. Nurtured with care, it grows, weathers every storm, and always wins.
“It must be death,” Draco murmurs, shivering slightly. “Death comes for everyone.”
“What is death?” I echoed.
The card didn’t turn green this time. It didn’t explode either. Instead, soft glowing words emerged:
Death will come for everyone. Even the deepest bonds must face it. But there is a power that does not defy death, yet surpasses it. Death threatens to separate us, but this power endures, as strong as death.
BOOM!
The card exploded in a shower of golden dust. Draco coughed, glittering and miserable.
Our racket finally lured Mamma out of the house, half exasperated, half amused.
“What on earth are you two doing? Who did it?”
Draco and I pointed at each other.
“Her idea!”
“He blew it up! Look! He’s covered in the proof!”
Mamma wasn’t fooled for even a second. She grabbed us both by the collars.
“You’re both responsible: one for the mischief, one for the mayhem! Luckily, your Hogwarts letters just arrived. Soon you’ll be Professor McGonagall’s headache instead of mine! This afternoon, we’re going to Diagon Alley for your supplies!”
Even as we were hauled back by the scruffs of our necks, Draco still couldn’t let go of his curiosity.
“What was it, Mira? What is the most powerful magic in the world?”
“Aren’t you studious, Draco!” I laughed, “Don’t worry! We're going to Hogwarts to learn, aren’t we? We’ve got seven years to figure it out. If we find the answer by then, it’ll be worth the journey.”