There was never a better time to grieve than in the moment of pain, and never a better time to forget what the present dangers were than in a moment of grief. That is how, in the midst of this, the most unforgettable of moments, the most painful of tragedies occurred. You would think that there would be a certain safety in childbirth, especially childbirth assisted by magic, but unfortunately for a young Pureblood in these dark times, there is a danger to simply give birth to a girl, let alone to birth a living girl and her stillborn twin brother. This is how Walburga Black became the woman she was; this is the story of her childhood, from the moment of her messy, problematic birth, to the moment she lost her second son, and the last shreds of her sanity.
Birth:
Walburga Black was born in the usual way, kicking and screaming and covered in muck, but the unusual part of the day changed everything. She was meant to have a twin brother, who would have been named Castor, and she would have been treated as a Princess, and he a Prince. Fate, it seems, had different plans. Castor was stillborn, and as a result, there was no little prince, and the princess was treated as a monster for surviving when the ever-desired son did not. She was a Pureblood, an heiress to the Noble and Most Ancient house of Black, a pillar of respect in the Pureblood community, and her parents desired for their name to live on. Now, they had no son to carry it for them, only this sorry excuse for a daughter, born without the sense to keep quiet, and without the ability to carry on the family name.