(𝟔 𝐌𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐡𝐬 𝐋𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐫)
𝐌𝐚𝐲 𝟐𝐧𝐝, 𝟏𝟗𝟖𝟐 - 𝐆𝐫𝐢𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐏𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐞.
As the months passed, madness chased Walburga relentlessly.
She never heard from the Carrows again, despite what little information Kreacher could glean. They had disappeared, and she could only assume Alecto had taken her advice and fled to Spain with her brother.
Barty Crouch Jr. met his fate in Azkaban not long after the night the Dark Lord was defeated. Walburga couldn't help but feel a pang of pity for him, remembering the intensity with which he had loved Regulus—so fiercely, it bordered on madness.
The poor boy, to be sent away by his father without a care in the world for him.
She regretted not doing more to shield him from the path of destruction that ultimately consumed him.
It seemed fate had favored Lucius Malfoy and Severus Snape—the last of Regulus's friends who had survived the war without being tried as Death Eaters.
They continued their lives, albeit scarred by their involvement in the dark times.
Bellatrix, her husband, and other Death Eaters were imprisoned in Azkaban, justice was served to those who had brought chaos and suffering.
The world moved on, turning as it always had, while she remained trapped in the aftermath of her shattered family.
With only Kreacher for company, the loyal house elf did his best to care for Walburga in the desolate halls of Grimmauld Place. He tended to her needs with diligence, hoping to provide some solace amid her anguish.
But as her episodes of mania intensified, Kreacher's concern deepened into a constant worry for her well-being.
He watched with a heavy heart as her mental state deteriorated day by day, her once-imposing presence now fractured by the weight of her grief and isolation. He witnessed her screams reverberate through the empty halls of Grimmauld Place, her desperate cries echoing off the cold stone walls.
He saw her claw at her own skin in moments of anguish, tears streaming down her face as she grappled with an unseen voice.
Weeks turned into months, and Kreacher observed her withdraw from nourishment, her once-proud frame shrinking under the weight of her grief.
He stood by, helpless, as she called out for Regulus—her voice filled with a longing that pierced the silence of their lonely existence.
But most heartbreakingly, Kreacher watched as Walburga chased a voice that only she could hear, lost in the memories and illusions that plagued her troubled mind.
He tried to offer comfort in his own small way, tending to her needs with unwavering loyalty, but he knew that his efforts could not fill the void that had consumed her.
In the depths of Grimmauld Place, amidst the shadows of a fractured family, Kreacher remained steadfast in his duty, a silent witness to the unraveling of a once-proud woman who had been left adrift in the wake of her deepest regrets and sorrows.
As she sat in the library, surrounded by the musty scent of old books and the faint echoes of memories, Walburga read the small annotations that Regulus had left in his books.
The little notes, filled with his thoughts and insights, provided a fragile warmth that momentarily eased the ache in her heart.
But despite these fleeting comforts, she found herself mourning her baby boy.
It was a relentless grief, an unending torment that defined her existence.
To mourn the son she had chosen second was her hell, a weight that she carried with her like a heavy chain around her soul.
YOU ARE READING
The Tragedy of Walburga Black
Fanfiction[COMPLETED] In which the untold story of Walburga Black unfolds. She was a witch before she was a wife, mother, and cruel woman. ⭑⭑⭑ "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 s...
