In which the untold story of Walburga Black unfolds.
She was a witch before she was a wife, mother, and cruel woman.
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"You failed as a mother; I failed as a son. Can you sit here truthfully, and say you love me? Look in my eyes, and say that you...
As she returned home, she trudged through the pouring rain, her tears indistinguishable from the relentless downpour. Exhaustion etched itself into every line of her face as she wandered London's dark, empty streets. Witches and wizards walked among the muggles, their faces alight with joy and relief, the recent victory giving them every reason to celebrate.
But for Walburga, there was no joy, no relief.
She had nothing but the hollow ache of loss and the unbearable weight of failure pressing down on her shoulders.
Raising her wand, she lifted the charms that had hidden her home from everyone, preparing to rain hellfire upon the Death Eaters who had saved her from herself. How was she supposed to eliminate them when they were there for her when no one else was?
Yet, as she crossed the street, she thought of Orion. She thought of the pain he must have endured at the hands of Amycus, and whatever rage she had left inside, she summoned it forth.
Her heart pounded in her chest, and the storm around her seemed to intensify, echoing her fury.
She would avenge Orion. She would cleanse her home.
With her wand gripped tightly in her hand, she prepared to unleash her wrath upon those who had taken everything from her.
What more could she lose when she had already lost everyone she wanted to protect?
She stood on the threshold of her home, drenched in rain and tears, her heart a shattered vessel of grief and fury. With every step she took, the weight of her losses bore down on her, but it also fueled her resolve.
She had nothing left but vengeance, and she would wield it like a blade.
Her wand raised, she pushed open the door, ready to face the dark wizards inside. They had been her allies, but they had also been complicit in her suffering.
As the door creaked open, a surge of determination coursed through her.
Walking through the narrow hallway, her wand lifted, she cared not for her appearance as she came face to face with Alecto. The Death Eater stood up from the couch she had been sitting on, her robes hanging heavily, and her face puffy from lack of sleep.
"Mrs. Black? Where were you—" Alecto's voice faltered, her eyes widening as she saw the wand pointed at her. "What are you doing?"
Walburga's eyes were cold, devoid of the warmth that once resided there. She raised her wand higher, her voice trembling with rage. "DID YOU KNOW?" she shouted, her words echoing through the narrow hallway.
"Did you know that he killed my husband?"
Alecto's eyes widened in confusion, her face paled. "Mrs. Black, I swear—"
"Swear nothing!" Walburga's voice cut through the air like a blade. "Did you know?"
"NO! I didn't know!" Alecto's voice was high-pitched, desperate. She shook her head violently, her eyes wide with disbelief. "I swear, I didn't know! Amycus... he never told me!"
Walburga's grip on her wand tightened, her knuckles white.
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