𝓟rologue / A Mother's Love
🦢🏹
1981
Isadora Kaspbrak knew death was coming for her.
She sensed it from the moment James and Lily Potter, so young and resilient, had been forced into hiding as the threat against them grew more intense by the day. It was as if that had started the clock; the tick, tick, tick of lost time. In a world torn apart by a war where no one was sure who to trust, she had chosen to stand with the Order of the Phoenix.
But the Order was a fractured alliance, struggling to contain the dark forces that threatened to take over the wizarding world. Albus Dumbledore, the man she was supposed to trust, seemed increasingly lost, his once-piercing gaze now clouded by uncertainty. Order members were falling, one by one, victims of Death Eater attacks. Marlene McKinnon, Edgar Bones, and Dorcas Meadowes had all perished in recent months, their deaths a grim reminder of the reality they faced.
Her husband, Oliver, worked tirelessly at the Ministry, his life in constant danger. Every morning when he left for work, Isadora couldn't help but wonder if it would be the last time she saw him. Each goodbye kiss became an unspoken prayer, a silent plea for his safe return.
Matilda Isabella Kaspbrak was born on April 21st, 1981. Amidst the ever-looming darkness of their lives, she was the one thing that kept them moving forward. Isadora had been scared about becoming a mother, panicking to Molly Weasley (who had six children of her own), saying that it must be some mistake and that there was absolutely no way she could handle life with a child.
Oliver had nothing to worry about, because he approached life with a calmness that often bordered on nonchalance. He was a Ravenclaw through and through, his intellect and wisdom allowing him to navigate the complexities of their world with a steady hand. He had a way of simplifying the chaos, of finding logic in madness.
Isadora, on the other hand, was ambition personified — cunning, determined, and clever. She was a strategist, a planner, always looking several steps ahead. She wasn't made for being a mother, she was made for war. The idea of being responsible for a tiny, helpless being was daunting. She had been trained to fight, to achieve, not to nurture. It went against everything she knew, everything she was. Just the thought of it filled her with a sense of inadequacy, a fear that she might fail at the one thing that should come naturally to a woman.
When Matilda was first born, Isadora felt an emptiness she couldn't explain. As the Mediwizard placed the calm infant in her arms, she had expected to feel an overwhelming surge of love, that bond that every mother spoke of. But all she felt was a hollow void, a sense of detachment that made her question if this was even her life. She'd looked down at the tiny face of her daughter with confusion, wondering why the connection wasn't immediate, why the love didn't come flooding in.
She remembered the guilt that had washed over her in those first moments, the feelings of shame and embarrassment. How could she not feel overwhelming love for her own child? Was there something wrong with her?
Oliver was a natural at parenthood. He took to being a father with an ease that both amazed and, at times, frustrated Isadora. He seemed to instinctively understand Matilda, whether it was the right way to cradle her to sleep or the gentle tone that would soothe her cries. He never doubted himself, never second-guessed his actions or his love for their daughter.
Isadora often found herself watching him, a silent observer in her own life. She saw the way Matilda's eyes followed Oliver around the room, a look of pure adoration in her gaze. It was a connection Isadora longed for, yet felt so far out of reach.
She tried, in her own way, to bond with Matilda. She read books on motherhood, followed the advice of Molly and Alice, and even attempted the same cooing tones and gentle touches that Oliver used. But her efforts felt clumsy, her interactions forced. She would sit for hours, holding Matilda, waiting for a sign, a spark, anything that would ignite the motherly instinct within her. But all she felt was a numbing detachment, a disconnection from the tiny being that was her flesh and blood.
The guilt of those thoughts weighed heavily on her, a constant companion in the quiet moments of the night. She would watch Matilda sleep on Oliver's chest, their faces peaceful and content, and wonder if they would be better off without her. But then she would remember the world outside, the war that raged on, and she knew she couldn't leave them. They were her responsibility, her family, and no matter how ill-prepared she felt, she would do whatever it took to keep them safe.
As days turned into weeks, and weeks into months, something inside Isadora shifted and the emptiness began to fill. Her love for Matilda was slow, a gradual awakening. It wasn't the instant, all-consuming emotion she had been told to expect, but rather a growing sense of protectiveness, a fierce desire to keep her safe.
It didn't help that she felt like Dumbledore was playing a dangerous game, sacrificing the lives of those who trusted him. He'd allowed children fresh out of the halls of Hogwarts to join the Order, putting them in harm's way when they should have been protected. While others saw bravery, Isadora saw recklessness. Youthful enthusiasm was no substitute for experience. She had worked tirelessly to achieve seven N.E.W.T.s and trained for three gruelling years to become an Auror. The young members were brave, there was no doubt about that, but they lacked experience and discipline.
Time was slipping away, time Isadora feared she might not have. The war against Voldemort was escalating, and with each passing day, the danger grew closer to their doorstep.
Isadora's role in the Order had never been more critical. She was often away on missions, her absence at home growing longer and more frequent. The nights she did spend at Kaspbrak Manor were restless, filled with whispered conversations with Oliver about the future, hoping for the best but preparing for the worst.
Matilda was barely six months old, but the thought of not being there for her first birthday, of not watching her grow up, tormented Isadora. Oliver noticed the change in her, the way her eyes lingered a little longer, her embraces a little tighter. He tried to offer comfort, to assure her that they would make it through, but his words felt empty against the reality they faced.
In quiet moments, when the house was still and Matilda's soft breathing was the only sound in the dark, Isadora's thoughts would spiral. She would lie awake, staring at the ceiling, her mind racing with what-ifs. What if she had never joined Dumbledore? What if she had chosen a different path, one that didn't involve becoming a Death Eater but also didn't lead her down this road of constant danger and uncertainty?
The guilt that had once gnawed at her for not feeling an immediate bond with Matilda had transformed into a different kind of torment. She now found herself grasping at every moment with her daughter, trying to memorise the curve of her smile, the sound of her laughter, the way her eyes lit up with each new discovery. These moments were precious, fleeting, and Isadora was painfully aware of how few she might get to see.
The war had already taken so much from them, and now it threatened to take even more. Isadora couldn't help but wonder if her involvement with Dumbledore had been a mistake. She questioned his decisions, his strategies, and most of all, she questioned whether the price they were paying was too high.
In the late hours of the night, Isadora would sit, quill in hand, pouring her heart into letters for Matilda. Each letter was a confession, an apology, and a hope. She warned Matilda about the complexities of the world they lived in, about the dangers of blind trust, the deceptive allure of power, and the importance of questioning authority. She wrote of her own doubts, her fears, and her hopes for a better world — a world where her daughter could live without fear, without war.
She sealed each envelope with a kiss and a tear, hoping they would never need to be read, but fearing they would be all that was left of her. In her final letter, written on a night when the air was thick with the sense of an impending storm, Isadora wrote of her love for Matilda, a love that had grown and filled every corner of her being. She wrote of her hopes for Matilda's future, for a life filled with joy, love, and peace. She wrote of her belief in Matilda, in her strength, and her heart. She expressed her sorrow for the time she had not fully embraced motherhood, for the moments she had let slip away in her pursuit of a greater cause.
I hope one day, when you're older and have a family of your own, you'll understand why I did what I did, she wrote in her last letter. Know that every choice I made, I made for you, for a better world for you to live in.
The inevitable came on October 15th, 1981, when there was a knock on the door and Isadora Kaspbrak welcomed death with open arms.
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THE DAILY PROPHET
"Late last night, a Death Eater attack occurred at Kaspbrak Manor in Hassocks. Oliver Kaspbrak was not home, working late at the Ministry, but his wife Isadora and their young daughter Matilda were both present.
Isadora was found deceased in Matilda's nursery, the words BLOOD TRAITOR carved into her right arm. It is suspected that her cause of death was due to blood loss. Prior Incantato was used on her wand, lying just inches away from her body, and it revealed the last spell performed was a Patronus charm.
There were two main commanders in this attack, it seems, and it is unclear as to why only Isadora was targeted. Matilda was found hiding under a blanket in her crib, unharmed but very shaken. It is assumed she witnessed the entire torture and death of her mother.
A source suggests that Isadora had recently discovered some sensitive information about a person with possible links to the Death Eaters, ultimately leading to her death. There will be an ongoing investigation into the incident, and a funeral is scheduled for..."
𝓐uthors Note / 🦢🏹
goodbye isadora kaspbrak we hardly knew you (literally) (she will be haunting the narrative)
this was just a short prologue focusing on isadora <3 giving small hints about what happened to her + how it will affect tillie in her story xx