The Tragedy of Walburga Black

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟏𝟏★

(𝐓𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐬𝐤𝐢𝐩 - 𝟓 𝐝𝐚𝐲𝐬)

𝐃𝐞𝐜𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝟐𝟓𝐭𝐡, 𝟏𝟗𝟒𝟒 – 𝐆𝐫𝐢𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐏𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐞.

They had finally arrived at Orion's home or as most of the family had known it; Grimmauld Place. Technically it did not belong to him, but it would be his as soon as he married.

It was the chosen home for festivities. As they crossed the threshold, the atmosphere shifted, enveloping them in a blend of musty antiquity and the crackling energy of imminent celebration.

Led by her mother and father, Walburga and her brothers simply followed behind while her aunt and uncle welcomed them.

She couldn't help but glance at the metamorphosis it took; The traditional evergreen Christmas tree, normally associated with warmth and joy, took on an air of solemnity.

Adorned with silver and black ornaments, it stood tall and imposing, a symbol of the house's commitment to its heritage. Intricate silver serpents coiled around the branches, their glinting eyes mirroring the subtle menace that permeated the atmosphere. It was almost blinding; it had too much of everything.

Tables were draped in dark, lustrous fabrics, and centerpieces featured black roses arranged meticulously in silver vases.

The air carried the scent of exotic incense, adding a mysterious undertone to the festivities.

The Black family crest, an emblem of lineage and power, was prominently displayed, casting an authoritative gaze over the gathering.

The guests, adorned in elegant, dark robes, moved with an air of regality as they mingled. The subdued lighting accentuated the glint of silver and jewels, creating an almost ethereal glow. Darkened mirrors adorned with ornate frames adorned the walls, reflecting the opulence of the surroundings.

Even the traditional Yule log crackling in the fireplace seemed to burn with an intensity that matched the enthusiasm of the occasion.

The ambiance whispered of secrecy and tradition, an unspoken acknowledgment of the responsibilities and expectations that came with being a part of the ancient House of Black.

Walburga almost felt out of place, her mother had given her a white dress. It was almost mockingly done, the lace on it was very intricate and the corset ties were threatening to cut off her air supply.

Nonetheless, she looked at Orion, as always he was dressed to the nines. In black robes; he gave the impression of a boy ready to be a man.

The night was mostly spent discussing blood purity and the ongoing efforts to further Grindelwald's mission. The atmosphere was heavy with the weight of tradition and the anticipation of what the future held for the pureblood families involved.

She found herself in the lounge where the Christmas tree stood, a solitary figure in the room. Alphard stood by her side, whispering, "It looks ugly, doesn't it?" His voice carried a hint of shared disapproval, cautious not to attract any unwanted attention from the family.

She sighed softly, her gaze fixed on the ostentatious decorations. "It's a reflection of what they value," she replied in a hushed tone. "Just like this dress." She gestured subtly to the ornate white dress that felt more like a constriction than an outfit. "But appearances are everything, aren't they?"

He shrugged "Judging by the decoration of this tree; clearly, they aren't."

She huffed in amusement.

A silver voice interrupted them.

"Admiring the tree? It truly is a sight isn't it..."

Before she turned around she had already known who it was.