Chapter 1: Mother
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In Britain, where the skies always seemed covered by a grey layer of clouds, an imposing mansion stood, completely isolated from the rest of the world. It was a majestic construction, hidden among hills and forests, as if even the landscape surrounding it had been shaped to hide it from prying eyes. The paths leading to the property were covered in ivy and weeds, as if they had not been traveled for years, reinforcing the feeling that this residence belonged to a time gone by.
The Crowley mansion was not a simple house, but a symbol. The dark stone facade seemed to have been carved directly from the cliff on which it stood, and every inch of it exuded an ancient history full of secrets and power. The crows, always present on the roofs and towers, seemed to be the eternal guardians of the dark objects that were inside. The Crowleys, a family of pure-blood wizards, were said to have accumulated dangerous and forbidden artifacts since time immemorial, objects that even the Ministry of Magic had lost interest in recovering, as no one had managed to enter the mansion without the consent of its owners.
Within the walls of the mansion, the atmosphere was as dense as the fog that surrounded it. The air was permeated with a silent mystery, and every corner, every corridor, seemed to be watched by the spirits of generations past. Doors closed by themselves, paintings watched with piercing eyes everyone who passed by, and shadows seemed to move on their own, as if the house itself were alive.
At the heart of the mansion, a room with very high ceilings, decorated with chandeliers that hung heavily from the ceiling, housed three figures. It was a room built not for comfort, but to command respect. The walls were decorated with portraits of Crowley ancestors, all with stern countenances, as if looking down on the descendants who now inhabited their legacy. Tapestries embroidered with ancient magical symbols hung throughout the room, reinforcing the feeling of being in a temple consecrated to pure power.
In the center of the room, the youngest of those present, eleven-year-old Aleister, was lying on the floor. His breathing was labored, his blond hair disheveled, and his face showed a mixture of effort and pain. In front of him, his training wand rolled on the floor, out of his reach. The young wizard had been disarmed in a magical duel, and now, he looked with frustration at his older sister, Alice, who, standing in front of him, watched him with a mixture of sympathy and rigor.
Alice, with her long blond hair gathered in an elegant braid, maintained an upright and serene posture. Her gaze was sharp, as if assessing her brother's every move with the precision of a master. At twenty-five, Alice had already forged a reputation in the magical community as a powerful and disciplined sorceress. She had taken on the responsibility of training her younger brother since he was a child, teaching him what he needed to survive in a world that was not always kind to those who possessed powerful magic.
At the back of the room, seated on a throne decorated with intricate arcane carvings, sat Emma Crowley, their mother. Emma was a woman of stunning, yet cold beauty. Her blonde hair fell in delicate curls to her shoulders, and her bearing reflected the dignity of one who had been raised in a pure-blood lineage. She wore a white ceremonial robe with black detailing, the symbol of her position as Archpriest of Law, a title she held within the cult founded by her father-in-law, Alexander Crowley, the father of the missing Edward. Though her face was serene, her grey, almost silver eyes seemed to observe everything with unfathomable depth.
"Alick, darling, get up," Emma said, her voice low but authoritative, resonating in the room like an inescapable echo. "If you continue to allow yourself to be defeated so easily, you will never be able to represent the Crowley family properly."
Emma's words were not a simple reprimand, but a warning. Aleister understood well what they meant. The Crowley family had maintained its prestige and power for centuries, and he was no exception to expectations. He knew that his failures not only reflected his own failure, but could be seen as a stain on the family lineage.
With a visible effort, Aleister pushed himself up from the ground. His legs still shook from the impact of the spell that had knocked him down, but there was a steely determination in his eyes. His pride as a member of the Crowley family did not allow him to give in to the pain. He reached out to pick up his wand, a small branch of white poplar that, despite being only a training wand, was already beginning to show a flashes of the power he might one day harbor.
"Of course, mother…" Aleister said in a halting voice, but without hesitation.
Alice, who until then had remained motionless, looked at her brother with a slight smile. The same sympathy she showed in her gaze did not lessen the severity of her teaching.
"The progress is remarkable, Alick," Alice said, her blue eyes shining with a mixture of approval and defiance. "But it is not enough. If you really plan to enter Hogwarts this year, you will need much more than determination."
Alice, in addition to being the eldest sister, had been his mentor since Aleister was eight years old. She herself had attended Hogwarts, where she had excelled in the magical arts. Now, at twenty-five, she was a recognized witch in magical society, specialized in arcane combat and defense. Her job was to prepare her brother for the real world, a world that would not always be as benevolent as the walls of Crowley Mansion.
Emma, from her throne, kept her eyes closed, in a posture that denoted serenity and absolute control of the situation. Her voice broke the brief silence that had fallen over the room.
"Speaking of Hogwarts," she said, without changing her tone, "today you must go buy Aleister's study materials. Time is running out, and there are many things you need before the course begins."
Aleister, who was still breathing heavily, raised his head at his mother's words. Today was not just any other day. Today was his eleventh birthday, the day he officially entered the magical world upon receiving his letter of acceptance to Hogwarts. But there was something else that worried him.
"But... Dad will come today, right?" Aleister asked with a thread of hope in his voice, looking up at his mother.
The boy's words hung in the air. Emma didn't open her eyes or make the slightest gesture at the mention of her husband. Her lips twisted slightly in what might have been a hint of coldness.
"Your dad isn't coming, Alick. Not today, or soon," she replied with icy calm. "You should stop waiting for things that aren't going to happen. Now, go get your materials. Education doesn't wait, nor should it wait for anyone."
His mother's words fell on Aleister like a heavy slab. He knew that his father, Edward Crowley, had disappeared years ago, traveling through Europe in search of magical artifacts. No one knew for sure if he would return, and Emma, more than anyone, seemed to have made peace with his absence.
"It's okay..." Aleister said, resignation in his voice. It had been a birthday full of expectations, and now those hopes were fading.
Alice, seeing the disappointment in her brother's eyes, walked over and took him by the shoulder with a warm smile.
"Al, let's go. We have a long shopping list to do, and Diagon Alley won't wait for us," she said tenderly, seeking to ease her younger brother's spirits.
Aleister nodded, though the weight of sadness was still on his chest.
"Sure..." he murmured, picking up his wand once more. "Although... I'd rather keep practicing. Couldn't we send someone else for the materials?"
Alice laughed softly at the suggestion, shaking her head.
"Today is your birthday, Al. And I have something special planned for you. You'll see," she said with a playful smile.
Before Aleister could protest, Alice took his hand and raised her wand confidently. In an instant, the air around them began to vibrate, creating a whirlwind of magical energy that enveloped the two brothers. In the blink of an eye, Crowley Manor disappeared from view, leaving behind the silence and solitude of its ancient walls. The outside world lay before them, a bustling Diagon Alley, full of life and colour.