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Walburga knew her end was near. Though still young by wizarding standards, the Blacks were not well-known for living long lives.
To be honest, she was surprised she’d lasted this long following the premature death of her dear Regulus; Orion’s grief had taken him within the same month as their son. House elves were foul little creatures and beneath Walburga’s dignity as a proud pureblood witch, but she could admit that the care and attention of her devoted elf, Kreacher, likely played a part in her lasting as long as she had.
But still, she knew the past several years had taken their toll on her. She should have decades left, but would be lucky for just a few more years.
The chief cause of her weariness now, as it always seemed to be for the past two decades, was of course her elder son. And she couldn’t help but reflect on that now.
Walburga Black was overjoyed at the birth of her first son.
Her brother Alphard was unmarried and childless, while her other younger brother, Cygnus, and his wife had three daughters. Finally, she, who such little stock had been placed in as a girl child, had a son who would carry on the Black family name.
Sirius Orion Black truly was his mother’s pride and joy.
And then he grew up.
Sirius was never a spoiled child. He may have been the heir to one of the oldest pureblood families in the Wizarding world, but Walburga and Orion Black were strict parents. Their son would be raised correctly, for how else could he become a proper member of pureblood society? Frivolities were always an afterthought (if a thought at all) in the Black household.
Walburga truly couldn’t say where she went wrong in raising her boy. It couldn’t possibly have been that she was too harsh with the boy. After all, she modeled her parenting style after her own beloved parents, and look how she turned out.
Exactly the opposite of her oldest son, as it so happened.
Walburga remembered feeling nothing but shame at the news that her firstborn son was sorted into Gryffindor, of all houses, upon his entrance into Hogwarts.
It was a Black family tradition to be in Slytherin. Yes, if one was to look back far enough on the family tree, there were a few Ravenclaws scattered here and there, and possibly one or two Hufflepuffs. But never before was there a Black who was a Gryffindor. The Black family lived by the example set by Salazar Slytherin, himself. How in Merlin’s name did Sirius end up a Gryffindor?
Walburga could only blame herself…except that Blacks really weren’t the sort of people who easily admitted defeat or even that they had any kind of flaws. Obviously, it was no one’s fault but Sirius’ that he ended up where he did. And naturally that meant that it was up to Walburga to set him straight.
When she actually took the time to think about things, she realized that Sirius’ position in Gryffindor could actually be rather beneficial. There, he would have prime access to all of the blood traitors that Walburga so detested. All she needed to do was convince Sirius to turn spy on his own house.
And oh, how she tried! But Sirius simply could not be persuaded to see reason, no matter how many Howlers she sent demanding his obedience.
Walburga had never known the boy to be so fiercely loyal to anyone or anything. The damn boy took being a Gryffindor far too seriously for her liking. And so she quickly realized it was better to give him up as a lost cause, while there was still a chance to salvage the Black name in the pureblood community.
After all, Sirius was only her firstborn son. For as much potential as Walburga had mistakenly seen in him, it was entirely possible that Regulus could possess even more.
And so Walburga transferred all of her hopes and dreams to her younger son. Sirius had failed her. He abandoned everything his family stood for; abandoned her. She took great pleasure in blasting her oldest son’s name off of the family tree when he ran away from home at the age of sixteen. Sirius and all of his failings were truly gone from her life now, but she still had Regulus. And Regulus would do great things.
Walburga was content once more.
As a young woman, Walburga believed the proudest moment of her life to be giving birth to a son to carry on the Black name. But now she was quite sure that she was even more proud the day she found out that Regulus—her beloved Regulus—had joined the ranks of the Death Eaters. Her only remaining son was doing his duty to pureblood society in helping to rid the world of muggleborn filth.
Until one day he didn’t come home…
Walburga was nothing short of devastated when she awoke one morning to find her son's date of death stitched into the family tapestry. Regulus had truly been her pride and joy. He had become more than she could have ever dreamed. And now, suddenly, he wasn’t here anymore.
She chose to ignore the whispers that the Dark Lord had given the order for Regulus to be killed for betraying him. That wasn’t her Regulus. Her Regulus was loyal to the Dark Lord and his cause. He would never try to back out. Instead, she chose to believe that her son had died a hero. After all, her Regulus always did the right thing; he must have died doing the same.
Walburga could still be proud of him.
It would have been better if Regulus had been a hero and remained alive, though. The truth of the matter was that his death was only the latest in a series of deaths of people close to Walburga.
Cygnus had been the first to go; though technically not a Death Eater, he had been killed in the crossfire of some fight or other. Walburga was sure that blasted Order of the Phoenix was to blame for her only remaining brother’s death.
And then Regulus was gone, too—his exact cause of death unknown still to this day; no body was recovered, but the magic of the family tapestry didn’t lie.
And Orion died not long after thier son. Although he had been young—only fifty years old—his was a death of natural causes. Too much stress, she vaguely recalled the Healers saying when they notified her of her husband’s passing.
All three of them in the span of a year. Walburga was alone.
Of course, there was still the extended family, what few of them were still left. But it just wasn’t the same as having a family of her own. Not that Walburga would openly admit to missing her son, husband, and brother. She was far too proud for that. It was best to remain composed in her mourning, as any good pureblood would.
Ironically, it was with the fall of the Dark Lord not two years later that Walburga finally found any reason to bring herself out of her depression. And that was what caused her introspection now.
Was it possible…had her Sirius returned to her?
All of the higher-ups in the Ministry that she so detested were calling her older son the Dark Lord’s right-hand man. Indeed, Sirius was arrested for betraying the location of his supposed best friend’s family to the Dark Lord and then killing thirteen innocent people—Walburga noted with glee that twelve of them were muggles.
This was definitely not the same Sirius that she blasted off the family tree. This was the Sirius that she had attempted—and thought herself to have failed—to raise. This Sirius was arrested for living by the ideals that Walburga had raised him by.
She could not possibly have been prouder.
Although he was technically now in prison, her Sirius had returned to her! Had it all been an act, then? Getting sorted into Gryffindor, befriending muggles, walking out on the family, appearing to go against everything the family stood for…all a lie?
In Walburga’s humble opinion, it would seem so. Sirius had been the man she’d raised him to be all along.
Now, if there was one thing Walburga Black was not, it was a foolish woman. And so, she made a decision.
“Kreacher!” Walburga yelled, rousing herself from her thoughts.
The elf appeared with a sharp crack and his nose brushed the floor as he bowed before her.
“Yes, mistress?”
“I require parchment, quill, and ink,” She informed the elf.
With a snap of his fingers, a lap desk appeared before Walburga already laden with the requested items.
“You may stay,” Walburga informed the elf even as she uncorked the ink bottle and turned her attention to her parchment. “I will have items for you to put in the post when I am done.”
Walburga was going to write her son back into her Will.
She had intended to leave everything to Bella and Cissy, but now her darling oldest son would come first again. After all, if he ever got out of prison, he would need somewhere to live. And what better place could he find than his childhood home?
She could still admit to some doubts, though.
For as much as she wanted to believe that everything she ever thought about her son since he went away to school was wrong, it was still hard for her to accept that could be true. And although she didn’t want her doubts to be true, there was always the chance that her son had been falsely accused of being a supporter of the Dark Lord, particularly one so important. After all, she did find it slightly suspicious that she never before caught wind of any rumors within her social circles that her oldest son was finally living up to his birthright.
So yes, it would do well for her to make sure that she made some provisions in order to be able to make absolutely certain that her son truly was the man she had always hoped he would become.
Once she was done with her instructions to her solicitor, a permanent sticking charm on the back of the portrait she’d recently had commissioned should do the trick. That way she would always be able to watch over her son, and possibly catch up on the years together they both missed out on.
Everything would be perfect.
Walburga Black died four short years later. She died before her time, weary from everything she’d had to go through in her life—most notably the loss of both her sons and her husband. And yet she died happy, knowing that Sirius—her beloved Sirius—hadn’t truly abandoned the values by which she raised him.