𝐑𝐞𝐠𝐮𝐥𝐮𝐬 𝐁𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐨𝐧𝐞-𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐭𝐬

Harpy Hare: The pureblood tale

In the ancient halls of Malfoy Manor, the shadows whispered secrets of a bygone era.

The grandeur of the estate belied the sorrow that permeated its walls, a grief cloaked in the stoic veneer of the pureblood elite.

It was here, amid the opulence of lost glory, that the echoes of a song long forgotten drifted through the empty corridors, resonating with a mournful melody.

The song belonged to the Harpy Hare, a mythic figure of lore and legend, once sung by old families who clung to the memories of their vanished kin.

Its lyrics, cryptic and haunting, spoke of lost children and the mother who could not keep them safe.

The purebloods, with their obsession for bloodlines and legacies, were no strangers to the weight of such grief.

Regulus Black, once a proud member of the Black family, now lay buried in a forgotten corner of the family crypt.

His death, like a silenced bell, marked the end of a hopeful, yet tragically flawed, ambition.

His passing had been met with the cold indifference typical of the Black family, a family steeped in the rigid traditions of blood purity and power.

In the quiet of the night, a figure cloaked in a dark velvet robe stood before Regulus's grave.

It was his elder brother, Sirius Black, who had long since distanced himself from the family's ideals and their weighty expectations.

His face was lined with the weight of regret, a reflection of the years he had spent estranged from his family.

Sirius's gaze was fixed on the gravestone, and his thoughts wandered to the haunting lyrics of the Harpy Hare.

"Where have you buried all your children? Tell me so I say," he murmured softly, the words feeling both personal and accusatory.

The Harpy Hare's song seemed to echo in his mind, a bitter reminder of the price of their family's obsession with blood purity.

The arrows, once symbols of their strength and unity, now lay split and broken, like the fragmented dreams of a family torn apart by their own delusions.

Sirius could see it now, how the pursuit of purity and power had ultimately led to their downfall.

The song spoke of a mother who could not keep her children safe, weaving barren curtains and crafting stories that could not shield her offspring from the harsh truths of their world.

Sirius, feeling the weight of the lyrics, knew the song was not just a relic of old tales but a lament for all the lost souls whose lives were sacrificed on the altar of tradition and pride.

Regulus's life, filled with promise and potential, had been stifled by the very ideals he had once embraced.

His ambition to uphold the family's legacy had led him into the dark embrace of Voldemort's circle, and his death was a tragic testament to the cost of blind loyalty and ambition.

As Sirius stood there, he felt a pang of sorrow for his brother, who had been but a child himself, caught in the web of expectations spun by their family.

Regulus, like the Harpy Hare's lost children, had been buried too soon, his potential and life extinguished by forces beyond his control.

"She can't keep them all caged," Sirius thought, the weight of the song's final lines heavy on his heart.

"They'll be far and fly away."

In the stillness of the graveyard, Sirius made a silent vow.

He would not let Regulus's death be in vain.

He would strive to honor the memory of his brother and all those who had been lost to the cruel cycle of their family's pride and ambition.

The Harpy Hare's lament would serve as a reminder of the cost of their mistakes and the need for change.

As the dawn began to break, the song's echoes faded, but its message lingered.

Sirius left the graveyard with a renewed sense of purpose, determined to break free from the chains of their past and to honor the memory of those who had been lost.