WILDFIRE. cedric diggory

The Fourth Daughter

WILTSHIRE, ENGLAND,
MAY, 1957

"Another daughter, I see," declares the older woman out of the three people in the room. She peers at the little space between the French door that separated them from the inside. "I expect you to have a male after three daughters, Cygnus. Such a bittersweet of spirits in the midst of spring. I would be lying if I say I am not disappointed." she speaks ever so placidly, for the room is a safe space for such conversations, and although they would speak of explicitness, such is excused. Walburga Black is elegant, and thin despite such overflowing wealth, and although lack of charm, she is a respected witch.

"Oh dear sister, Cygnus has such beauty daughters," speaks the man with most sincere, he happens to be the odd one out ━━ and that made him better than most of his dark and prejudiced family. "Although, I should say that Bellatrix, your oldest, lack of grace. Narcissa, a little too. . . . like yourself ━━ " Cygnus looks over at him with a questioning frown, Walburga, the woman, lets out a scoff. "━━ which is not a bad thing, I shall think. Andromeda, a total dear. I think of her so fondly," Alphard walks toward the family portrait of his brother, Cygnus Black III, and an apprehensive smile forms on his kind-looking, well-groomed, face. "I am very much looking forward to little. . . . . what did you say her name was again?"

Cygnus flips the Daily Prophet; he looks rather calm for someone who's become a father of a fourth daughter. He is seated onto a leathered chair, wearing expensive black trousers, expensive black robe, and expensive black leathered shoes that are tapped faintly to the marbled floor. "Druella plans of naming her Anastasia."

"Little Anastasia," Alphard repeats it with more saccharine to his voice. "A beautiful name for a beautiful child."

Walburga lets out another scoff, pacing to the other side of the room to fill a goblet of blood wine. "Beauty is not necessary for a Black, dear brother. What is necessary is for her to be raised as pure as possible. She will not be like the odd Andromeda, she's becoming too soft. You must raise Anastasia well, Cygnus, and not just flaunt beauty."

Cygnus lets out a noise of agreement, flipping a page of the Daily Prophet yet again. Alphard smiles softly, before the door opened and Healer walks outside, joining the presence of the Black siblings. The Healer is an old wizard; he has been the family's Healer since his father, and his father before him. He is Fredrick Crabbe. Fredrick clears his throat, requesting Cygnus attention, to which he obeys, setting the Daily Prophet at the side and stands up. "Your daughter is healthy, Cygnus━━"

"Then thank you for your hard work Fred, I shall want to see my wife no━━"

Fredrick looks over at Cygnus. "Your daughter is healthy, Cygnus, but I cannot say so much for your wife."

WILTSHIRE, ENGLAND
SEPTEMBER, 1958

"Druella is not getting better, Cygnus. Even the Healers at St. Mungos cannot bring her back to health━━"

"That child made her ill. That cursed child━━"

"It is not Anastasia's fault, Cygnus, you must not throw the blame to an innocent child; your child━━"

"She is not a child of mine! I want her gone! Gone! Do you hear me?! Dispose her! From now on, I only have three daughters!"

"Cygnus━━"

"Take her to Walburga, or wherever, I don't want to have that murderer breathing in my house!"

"Cygnus, please do not be haste━━"

"I have made my decision Alphard, begone with you! Begone with that child!"

CENTRAL LONDON,
JANUARY, 1959

"Erm ━━ John, darling, there's a basket outside, just at the doorsteps. Have the Slinger's gave out fruits again? How generous of them! Such sweet neighbors ━━ No, there's no worry! I'll go and get it. You stay on your spot. It'll be just quick," says the woman, Mary, about 40, with golden locks and flawless skin wrinkled by time. She walks gracefully to the door after closing in the drapes, to which she tucked only a little earlier. "Goodness, it's raining again, mind you. There's not a rest of precipitation in this part of the world. Just horrid."

"And the traffic's terrible too!" shouts the man from the kitchen. Mary lets out a giggle whilst shaking her head. When she finally arrives at the door, she opens it and found the basket she had seen earlier. She frowns; it didn't look like a basket of fruits — it is covered with a white cloth, and something is moving inside. Mary frowns even more, stoops down to reveal whatever it is; she gasps loudly. "John! John! Darling! OH SWEET JESUS, JOHNNY PHELPHS! COME ON RIGHT HERE THIS VERY INSTANT!"

It was a child inside the basket. Alive, breathing, and awake with striking black eyes.