The Tragedy of Walburga Black

☆𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟏𝟐𝟑☆

( 𝟒 𝐌𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐡 𝐋𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐫)
𝐎𝐜𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝟏𝟓𝐭𝐡, 𝟏𝟗𝟖𝟏 - 𝐆𝐫𝐢𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐏𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐞.

The summer faded quickly as the war raged on. The trio seemed to grow closer than ever - as Walburga continued to lose the battle in her mind.

Nights, though offering fleeting moments of respite from grief, remained haunted by relentless nightmares and the echoing sorrow of a grieving widow and mother.

Turning in her bed, Walburga gripped the sheets tightly, her knuckles turning white with tension. As she sat up, her gaze fixed on the shadowy corner of the room where she could see him.

Her boy.

Using wandless magic she made the flames of the few candles light, seeing him stand at the foot of her bed.

The flames leaped to life, casting a flickering warmth that expanded the room's dimensions, their dance creating shifting shadows that played over the ancient tapestries and ornate antiques.

He looked solemn, as he always did in her mind.

"Regulus," she whispered, her voice trembling with yearning.

Like a mother seeing her child for the first time, she looked in awe of him. But all she felt was fear.

Letting go of the sheets, Walburga shook her head slowly, her gaze dropping to the floor. "You are not here," she whispered to herself, her voice barely audible in the quiet room.

The flickering candlelight seemed to dance with her words, casting eerie shadows that stretched and distorted the familiar surroundings.

Gasping in panic, she looked up, only to see him standing there, tears silently streaming down his solemn face.

"You are not here," she pleaded, her voice choked with emotion. "Why must you haunt me?" Her words trembled in the air, a desperate plea mingled with heartache and confusion.

He looked at her, his expression pained and lips pursed familiarly.

As he tried to speak, she watched in anguish, her heart breaking with every failed attempt. The silence between them stretched, heavy with unspoken words that echoed the depth of their separation.

Clutching her chest, feeling as if her mind was unraveling at the seams. "Please," she whispered hoarsely, tears streaming down her face unchecked.

Pulling at her hair as she began to sob afraid to look at him any longer.

As the months faded and she grew closer to the Carrows - she had tried with all her might to fight against her insanity.

No matter how much she tried to move forward, the specter of her son lingered, a constant reminder of her unhealed wounds and the love she could never let go.

Standing up in a hurry letting the sheets fall to the floor she walked towards him, before standing in front, staring at him.

With tears in her eyes, she looked into his glassy one, the lifelessness there breaking her heart anew.

Sniffling, her voice barely a whisper, she said, "I love you... I love you, but you are not here anymore..."

Raising her trembling hand, she tried to caress his face, but her fingers passed through nothing, the cold emptiness a cruel reminder of his absence.

As the specter of Regulus began to fade, Walburga's hand lingered in the empty space, her heart aching with the weight of her unending grief.

She lowered her head, letting the tears flow freely, each drop a testament to a mother's love that death could not diminish.