In which the untold story of Walburga Black unfolds.
She was a witch before she was a wife, mother, and cruel woman.
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"You failed as a mother; I failed as a son. Can you sit here truthfully, and say you love me? Look in my eyes, and say that you...
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𝐒𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐉𝐮𝐥𝐲 𝟏𝐬𝐭, 𝟏𝟗𝟒𝟒 -
She had been biding her time, waiting for the perfect moment when her parents would be away, entangled in their Alliance responsibilities. The July night was oppressively humid, but she remained vigilant, her heart pounding as she observed her parents' departure for their clandestine meeting.
"Okay." She gently closed the door from where she had been cautiously peering out. Turning around, she met the anxious gaze of Alphard, who clutched Cygnus tightly against his hip. The 13-year-old boy's trembling hands betrayed his nerves, and he held his 6-year-old brother protectively.
"Are they gone then?" Alphard inquired, his voice tinged with a mixture of hope and trepidation. His sister continued to gather the priceless jewels strewn across the room, treasures more valuable than most would ever lay eyes on.
Stopping in her tracks she looked at her brothers before nodding. "It's going to be okay - we'll be okay." Lying through her teeth.
The truth was, she had no idea what she was doing. But she knew one thing for certain; she had to get away from this family; no – she had to her brothers away from their mother.
The plan was straightforward, or at least she hoped it would be. They would wait for their parents to be summoned by Grindelwald and the Alliance, meetings that were notorious for their length. That was the window of opportunity she needed.
Grabbing Cygnus from Alphard's arms she gave a fake smile down at him one last time before she opened the front door. "Remember - it's just you and me okay?"
Alphard looked up at her, his eyes wide with a mix of fear and determination. "Just you and me and Cygnus, of course," he replied timidly, trying to muster up some courage.
She rolled her eyes, her heart heavy with responsibility, and then, side by side, they ventured out of the family home into the night.
They walked for miles until they reached muggle crowds, she had hoped to blend in but they looked like fish out of water with no to go.
They continued to trek through the hot night until Walburga could see the sign of an inn.
Thanking Merlin, she pushed Alphard in that direction quickly. Just as they were about to enter, a strong arm snaked around the back of her neck, pulling her discreetly into a nearby alleyway.
"You'd better have a well-thought-out explanation for why you brought my son into the Muggle world," her father sneered, his grip on her tightening as he forced Cygnus from her arms. He pushed her roughly against the gritty gravel of the alleyway, his anger seething.
He turned his stern gaze downward to Alphard, his voice laced with contempt. "You've no courage, boy," he chastised, "Letting a woman dictate your actions, your path, and soon enough, they'll have you bending to their will even in the most intimate aspects of life."
Walburga, standing defiantly, interrupted her father. "Father, he had no say in my plan. This was entirely my doing," she asserted, her voice unwavering in the face of his anger.
Smirking with a touch of approval, Pollux sneered, "That much I know to be true. Your mother is waiting for us. Let us leave."
The journey back home was a quiet one, filled with the weight of Walburga's perceived failure.
As they arrived back at the imposing Black family manor, fear began to creep into her heart once more. Her father immediately pushed Alphard and her into the parlor.
He left with Cygnus because Merlin forbid Irma ever lay a finger on their treasured prince of a boy.
Irma Black entered with the grace of a swan, her steps as fluid as a dancer's, and wore a smile that could deceive even the most discerning of observers.
"Back so soon?" Irma's voice rang out, her back turned to the children as she calmly poured herself a glass of wine.
"Mother," Walburga interjected, her voice tinged with a mixture of defiance and desperation, "Alphard had nothing to do with what happened tonight. It was all my doing."
"Was it now?" Irma slowly turned to face her daughter, her expression morphing into a sly smirk as her eyes darkened.
"Yes." holding her ground as her mother stood directly in front of her.
"And what is it that you planned to do?" Irma inquired, her grip tightening as she seized a lock of Walburga's raven-black hair. "Take your brothers away from us? Live in the muggle world?" She mocked her daughter.
"Foolish girl."
"I planned on giving them a way out of this- this mad family. " Walburga retorted with fervor, her eyes blazing with determination.
Before she could continue, Irma silenced her by yanking on a fistful of her daughter's hair.
"You will never - ever - disgrace our name with your rebellious notions," Irma continued, her words dripping with venom as she asserted her authority over her defiant daughter.
Alphard, unable to meet his mother's piercing gaze, averted his eyes and fixed them on any spot but her face. As Irma extracted her wand and aimed it at Walburga, the room filled with a tense, foreboding silence.
Walburga kept her gaze on her mother as she saw the wand she closed her eyes and prepared for her punishment.
"Obliviate,"
She felt nothing- she opened her eyes as she realized that the wand and spell were both pointed to Alphard. "Mother, what are you doing?"
Her brother's face went blank, the silence filled the room as her mother let her go.
"What's going on, Mother?" Alphard repeated, his voice hollow, and his eyes remained empty, devoid of the memories that had defined him moments ago.
"Nothing my sweet, you should get rest."He nodded before leaving the parlor.
Irma turned back to her daughter and let out a slight, chilling laugh. She took a leisurely sip of her wine, her eyes glinting with a hint of dark amusement.
"Relax, I've only erased his memory of tonight," Irma remarked, her voice holding an unsettling nonchalance as if she had just executed a routine task "You should worry less about him and more about yourself."
"What do you mean moth—" Before she could finish her sentence, a sudden and stinging slap from her mother's hand silenced her, leaving a burning sensation on her cheek. She felt her mother use her wand to slash her across the face.
Falling to the ground, Walburga was disoriented, unable to regain her composure, and the pain from her mother's slap still stinging.
Before she could react, Irma unleashed a curse on her, and a searing, agonizing pain wracked her body, causing her to convulse on the ground.
After what felt like an excruciatingly long period, her mother subjected her to both mending and re-inflicting wounds upon her.
The torment seemed unending, and when it finally ceased, Irma forcibly led her daughter to the cellar, chaining her in a place of isolation and despair.
That night, Walburga experienced a level of pain she had never endured before, inflicted by the very woman who had given birth to her.
