Flora And Fawna [HARRY POTTER]

40

Rosie had been to more than her fair share of funerals, she thought. But as her sixth year at Hogwarts began to come to a close, she found herself attending one more. On the morning, the very early morning, of the fifth of March, 1985, Kreacher apparated into the Ravenclaw Girl's dormitories to tell Rosie that Walburga had passed in her sleep.

Rosie hadn't known how to feel at first. Walburga was the type of woman that no one really liked. She was crass, and prejudice, and she could be rather foul at times, but she had been Rosie's mentor for four years and she had been Rosie's friend. No one was left to plan the funeral, most of Walburga's nieces and nephews had either been killed or captured after the death of the Dark Lord. Her yearly Christmas parties had dwindled until was just Rosie and Walburga sitting at either end of the dinner table. Orion had passed several years earlier.

Rosie had made the arrangements she felt Walburga would have wanted. It was an elegant, solemn affair where only a select few, Narcissa, her husband and son, and some highly ranked ministry officials, invited.

Walburga's body was lowered into the ground by the Minister of Magic herself. Rosie had even allowed Kreacher to be present, though the house elf sobbed loudly into his tea cloth clothes for the majority of it and the Malfoys sent Rosie judgemental looks for allowing it. She ignored them, returning to her younger years and reinstating the cold glare- the one that Walburga had once compared to a pureblood's- that had gotten her through her first few years of school. 

When the funeral was over and the Minister of Magic moved to end the ceremony, Rosie waited until everyone had gone before she allowed her mask to fall. A single tear slid down Rosie's pale cheek. Her wand revealed itself as her hand emerged from the sleeve of her cloak, and with a flick of her wand a Rose bush began to bloom on the overturned dirt of Walburga's final resting place. Roses the color of her cold blue eyes.

*******

Several weeks after Walburga's funeral, the Minister of Magic appeared on the doorstep of Number Four Privet Drive, Kreacher in tow. Rosie allowed the both of them to enter.

"Good evening, Minister," Rosie greeted as she allowed the Millicent Bagnold to make herself comfortable on one of Petunia's sitting room chairs. "May I offer you anything to drink?"

The minister offered a polite smile, her eyes wandering around Petunia's choice of decor for a long moment before they settled back on Rosie, who had seated herself in the meantime.

"A glass of brandy if you have it," Minister Bagnold smiled. It was clear in the way the woman held herself that she was tired, of what Rosie couldn't put her finger one. Rosie waved her hand and exhibited a particular skill she had been working on all year.

A glass of perfectly poured brandy came floating over, and set itself in the Minister's hand. The woman looked pleasantly shocked.

"I assume you're wondering why I am here today," Minister Bagnold said after a moment, after she had taken a savory sip of her beverage. "It's not every day the Minister of Magic invites herself over. I assure you that you're in no trouble."

Rosie waited for the woman to continue, already guessing why the Minister was there but wanting to hear it from the woman herself.

"As you are aware, Walburga Black, the last free member of the house of Black, died several weeks ago. Upon her death the Ministry set to work immediately to sort out her affairs, though it was particularly difficult. It appeared as if Walburga left her estate, her fortune, and her house elf to her late son Regulus Black, who died five years ago. Which is what led us to Regulus' last Will and Testament. Which lead us to you. It appears as though shortly before Mr. Black's death he left you all of his worldly possessions, and the entirety of his inheritance."