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...
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As the sunset, cast warm hues across the cottage, Walburga finished preparing her potion ingredients. The air was filled with the subtle aroma of herbs and potions. She arranged the components meticulously, readying herself for the brewing process.
Meanwhile, Orion had left to meet with Eleanor Nott, leaving Walburga to her work in the quiet ambiance of the fading day.
Content in her solitude, Walburga focused on the potion preparations until the tranquility was abruptly disrupted.
The distinct sound of someone Apparating echoed in the parlor room. At first, she assumed it was Alphard, returning from Merlin knows where his comings and goings often shrouded in mystery.
"Well, I must say, you've got a lovely place here," an unfamiliar voice echoed as the man entered her study.
Surprised by the intrusion, Walburga turned to face the stranger, her gaze assessing him with a mix of curiosity and caution.
"Malachi Macduff," he declared, standing before her, the last of the Acolytes.
Immediately she raised her wand preparing to defend herself from the last of Grindelwald's followers.
"Stay your hand, Walburga. No need for hostility," he spoke, his voice resonating with an unusual calmness. "I am merely here for your so-called Husband."
"You must take me for a fool if you think I won't have you taken to Azkaban here and now," she retorted sharply. Without hesitation, she fired a stunning spell at the man, her wand slicing through the air with precision.
The magical energy crackled as it surged towards him, a testament to the intensity of her resolve and the distrust she harbored for the last of Grindelwald's followers standing before her.
Malachi deftly countered with a shield charm, the magical clash illuminating the room.
"I expected no less from a Black," he replied, his voice carrying an air of indifference. "I merely wish an end to this endless witchhunt."
"Why are you here then? Why not go to the ministry?"
He scoffed looking at her once more, "You should know better than anyone, your family is cursed. You are all going to die- worse than that you will suffer for giving up allegiance to Grindelwald."
"We are not bound by the past," she retorted, her voice carrying a tinge of bitterness.
His eyes, once cold and calculating, now gleamed with a madness that sent shivers down Walburga's spine. "Your arrogance blinds you, Black. Do you think you can defy the fate that's been woven into the very fabric of your bloodline? There is no escape. Grindelwald's power is far-reaching, and your feeble attempts to break free will only lead to more suffering."
