𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑹𝒊𝒔𝒆 𝑶𝒇 𝑳𝒂𝒅𝒚 𝑩𝒍𝒂𝒄𝒌 ~ 𝑊𝑎𝑙𝑏𝑢𝑟𝑔𝑎 𝐵𝑙𝑎𝑐𝑘

chapter one

Present day,

From the top of the stairs, Walburga looks down at her son, on his knees. Her face is impassive and cold as usual. There is no trace of love, no trace of sadness, but soon, her lip stretches into a pout of disgust towards her own child as he begs her not to do this, yet, the words she speaks are sharp, like knife blades.

"Out," she says. "You no longer exist now, so leave this house forever and I never want to meet your face again or you will regret it."

The woman has her hands crossed in front of her, against her big puffy dress and she turns her back on him, without a backward glance. Her son is no more and she considers him dead. How can her own child, bearing the name of a man she will love forever, disappoint her to this point? Hearing the door slam, she nevertheless approaches the window, her posture as straight as possible and her face closed, observes the flesh of her flesh, take the path of the alley to the gate before seeing him fade away when her sight is no longer able to show him. She remains in this position for long minutes.

The notes of the piano keys are the only noises in the house and she listens to Regulus practicing with a look of pride on her face while Orion, her husband, is probably in one of these clubs smoking a cigar in front of a gaming table. Walburga takes the opportunity to go to their room and closes the door behind her.

Kneeling down by the bed, she dislodges one of the floorboards and plunges her hand inside. A spider takes advantage of this to escape and she pulls out a small box containing a photo, a necklace, a journal and letters. A flood of emotions crosses her tense features and she sags slightly, no longer resembling the terrifying woman she is.

She turns the photograph over, letting a finger brush the clumsy writing that has flowed because of tears, "Let me tell you the ardor with which I admire you and I love you", these words, she has read them hundreds of times but the impact is each time the same and a new tear falls on the paper, erasing the ink even more.

— Mother, calls Regulus behind the door, can I play you the piano piece I just composed?

Walburga hurries to put the photo back in the wooden box, puts it away again, leaving with it, her humanity and her love, leaving that sweet face that Sirius had and she puts the slat back before getting up. Over time, she has learned to be who she is, cold, distant, cruel but her love for Regulus is great and, opening the door, she allows herself a smile.

"Of course," she says. "I hope you learned it well so that you don't make any wrong notes, you know that I don't like it when you make mistakes."

"Yes, mother," he answers, "I revised it for three hours, I am able to play it perfectly."

Walburga follows her son through the big house and sits in the armchair, next to the piano. She never sets foot in this room except to listen to Regulus play. There are far too many memories here, mostly beautiful memories in this very room and the she hates memories.

They cling to her guts and turn them over as soon as she sets foot in it. Sitting, she crosses her legs, letting her long black dress drag on the floor while Regulus glances at her, not daring to ask her what happened with Sirius.

He is not allowed to show emotion, he was taught that so he obeys and keeps quiet and everything is fine for him. He has seen the torture inflicted on his older brother and he does not want to suffer the same treatment, he is not as brave as Sirius.

"Regulus," Walburga says, "daydreaming will bring you nothing in life, play this piece and concentrate. You must honor your family if you intend to play at parties."

"Yes mother, excuse me."

He clears his throat and Walburga remains impassive. However, the music touches her, this piano has a history, these walls guard it and make her remember a boy with long pianist's fingers running over the keys, showing her how to do it and she then remembers his hand on hers, trying to teach her.

She looks like a statue and Regulus swallows with difficulty, the fear of failure makes his hands tremble and he lets them slide on the keys, this music is soft, percussive and if his mother understood, she would understand that this is what he feels, the sorrow, the pain but she never shows the sign of understanding.

When he looks at her again, his hand slips the keys and a false note comes out, which tenses him up and the music automatically dies. The room seems to hold its breath as he clenches his jaw, forcing himself not to cry as he hears his mother's footsteps approaching.

"Start again," she orders, "stay there until tonight if you have to but don't disappoint your father, you know what it will cost you, he loves music."

"Well mother, I'm so- ...," he begins.

"Apologies don't take away your fault, Regulus," Walburga interrupts him.

She places a kiss on her son's head and leaves the room, her head held high before climbing back into her room. This room that was her parents' and where she took refuge during violent storms. She sits down in front of her dressing table and removes the pins from her hair, her eyes meet those of her reflection in the mirror, younger and sparkling eyes, eyes of a young girl who has not yet known anything of life.