The Tragedy of Walburga Black

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟐𝟔★

(Present)

𝐃𝐞𝐜𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝟏𝟕𝐭𝐡, 𝟏𝟗𝟒𝟓 - 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐁𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐌𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐫.

The following day, a somber memorial was held for Irma Black, and her body found its final resting place in the family cemetery.

The air was heavy with grief as family members and close associates gathered to pay their respects. Her father was met with special praise among the chosen Purebloods who had come to pay their respects.

From the Carrows to the Malfoys, nearly everyone had been drawn to Pollux, acknowledging his pivotal role in the defense of Pureblood values.

The Black family cemetery bore witness to the convergence of tradition and tragedy, as the legacy of Irma Black became etched into the family's history.

Once the burial had been concluded, the mourners returned to the Black Manor to share their condolences and engage in somber conversation.

Walburga and Alphard found themselves compelled to greet and engage in conversation with the guests, their hands automatically reaching for glasses filled with wine.

The air in the room grew thick with smoke as their father, Pollux, indulged in the ritual of lighting his cigar.

Turning his head from speaking to his brother, Pollux Black directed his gaze at the somber faces of his children. "Why don't the two of you go to your rooms," he declared, the command hanging in the air.

Walburga, her eyes reflecting a mixture of grief and anger, responded defiantly to her father's suggestion. "Why should we? This is our home too. We have just as much right to be here as anyone else."

The room fell into a tense silence, the air thick with unspoken tension. Family members and guests exchanged uneasy glances, their attention drawn to the open defiance from the young Black heiress.

Pollux's stern expression betrayed no emotion as he continued to smoke his cigar, seemingly unperturbed by Walburga's outburst.

Pollux, exhaling a puff of smoke, maintained his calm demeanor. "Enough, Walburga. This is not the time nor the place for your insolence. Show some respect for your mother's memory and for the guests who've come to pay their respects."

Walburga's eyes flashed with anger, but she bit her lip to contain any further retort.

She felt a hand on her shoulder, looking up the white hair and obnoxious smile of Abraxas Malfoy blinded her.

"Not to worry, Pollux it is always the oldest ones that cause the most trouble."

Abraxas Malfoy's obnoxious smile widened as he leaned in, his voice a low murmur "- such a tragedy. But, perhaps, a reevaluation of alliances is due. You wouldn't want to be left vulnerable in these tumultuous times."

Walburga gritted her teeth, disliking the opportunistic tone in Abraxas's words.

She replied sharply, "Trouble is usually the result of those who meddle where they shouldn't. Isn't that right, Abraxas?" Her words carried a sharp edge as she addressed both men, her gaze unwavering.

Abraxas chuckled, seemingly unfazed by her retort. "Well, I do enjoy a bit of mischief, but we're here for a solemn occasion, aren't we?" His tone held a mock sincerity that grated on Walburga's nerves.

His hand traveled from her shoulder to her neck - lightly caressing her.

Pollux, still puffing on his cigar. "Enough, you will listen to me when I speak to you girl, now go."