Chapter Thirty-Six

February 13th, 1983

Playing smartarse was something easy for Sirius, but it had taken a lot for him to play non-violent around his mother, reigning in that infamous Black temper that may or may not be related to a mental instability depending on who you spoke to. The very moment Walburga had levelled her gaze at Hermione and said "Mudblood", Sirius's leash on his rage snapped and he snarled stepping forward defensively, "You knew? How?"

Walburga sneered, a maniacal glint in her eye with absolutely none of the poise and reservations that Narcissa had, despite being of the same blood, Hogwarts House, and upbringing. "The press, of course," she said, very nearly cackling.

Narcissa's blue eyes narrowed thoughtfully, appearing much more composed than both of her Gryffindor companions as well as her hostess. "You told me you'd stopped reading the Daily Prophet. That it was nonsense."

"I did," Walburga said, looking as though she were trying very hard to find a middle ground between a smug grin and an angry scowl. "However, I was previously in contact with a woman who was most eager to write the story of our House and how far it fell in the wake of Regulus's tragic death and Sirius's dishonour. A woman, who, until recently, hasn't been returning my letters. Thankfully it appears that Azkaban has provided comforts to some prisoners. I believe even Lucius writes to you, Narcissa?"

Sirius furrowed his brow. "But who—"

Hermione gasped, "Rita Skeeter," and her hand instinctively felt for her wand that had been strapped to her waist and Disillusioned.

"She is not a fan of yours, little Mudblood," Walburga said, fixing her glare on Hermione. "And you . . ." She turned her focus on Sirius, shaking with rage and disgust, "you bring this filth into the House of my fathers. Pretend that you would marry her?"

Sirius grinned darkly, eyes flashing. "Who said I was pretending?"

Walburga snapped at the declaration, "She is a Mudblood!"

Sirius leant in close, towering over the woman as he viciously growled, "And a fantastic shag."

Narcissa rolled her eyes. "Sirius, honestly."

Stepping forward and raging up at her disowned son, Walburga struck him across the mouth, knocking him to the ground with the unexpected blow as continued to scream, resembling her portrait so very much, even as spittle fell from her mouth. "You dishonour this House and your blood by even speaking such lies! Filth! Scum! By-products of dirt and vileness! Half-breeds, mutants, freaks the whole lot of them! And this one," she said, pointing at Hermione, "Blood-related to that filthy werewolf pet of yours!"

Sirius spat blood on the ground and then stood up, eyes practically turned black with rage as he stared down his mother. "Shagged him too," he whispered with a dark grin and Walburga tore herself away from him, terrified of being infected. She made loud gagging noises among the screeching and Hermione actually winced at the high pitch.

Kreacher, alerted to the noise, stepped into the room, worrying his hands together in front of him. "Would Mistress like Kreacher to throw the scum into the streets?" he asked.

Too angry to think clearly, Walburga took her anger out on the elf, kicking it back through the doorway. Hermione took a step forward only to be stopped by Narcissa's hand on her shoulder. Kreacher let out a whimper of pain and then could be heard mumbling, "Thank you, Mistress," repeatedly before vanishing.

Just as Kreacher disappeared from sight, Dobby nervously looked in from around the corner, out of Walburga's sight. Neither Sirius or Narcissa caught a glimpse of him, too focused on the angry with in front of them, but Hermione made eye contact with the little elf. He swallowed hard, looking between her and Walburga Black and Hermione slowly shook her head, indicating that Dobby should not interfere. Understanding, Dobby nodded, ears flapping a bit with the motion, and he held up his hand, revealing the locket that they'd come for. Hermione's heart raced and she couldn't help but smile, letting out a great sigh of relief when Dobby Disapparated out of Grimmauld Place, taking the Horcrux with him as planned.

In the meantime, Walburga had spun back on Sirius, wand in hand. "You were never fit to lead this family, this great and Noble House! Oh . . . if only Regulus had survived . . . he would have—"

"He would have reinstated Sirius," Hermione blurted out and drew the attention of all three Blacks in the room, every one of them looking more confused than the last. "He loved his brother. And he hated Voldemort."

"You . . . you dare to—"

Sirius baulked. "What the bloody hell are you—"

"Regulus Black betrayed Voldemort. He found a way to destroy the Dark Lord and he wanted him dead. Regulus Black died a hero!" Hermione said with great determination, ignoring the way that Walburga's face first paled and then turned red. "And do you know why? Do you know Regulus's great cause?"

"You filthy little—"

"An elf! The very one that you just kicked! Voldemort injured Regulus's elf and he turned on him, just like that!"

Narcissa whispered, "Is that true?"

"Yes."

"Liar!" Walburga screamed. Her tone was one of grief and mourning, but the ugly, uncontrollable anger in her expression prevented anyone from sympathising. "I would rather watch my Ancient and Noble House burn to the ground than see it besmirched by a Mudblood's lies! Or perhaps I'll just burn you," she said, eyes suddenly wide with delight as her wand aimed. "Internum Flamare!"

Taught by battle worn professors at Hogwarts and raised in war herself, Hermione was quick to hold up her wand, a deflection spell on her lips. But when she saw the all too familiar sight of purple fire aimed in her direction, she panicked and cried out a weak, "Protego!"

Narcissa and Sirius were much more firm in their casting.

"Reflecto!"

"Reditus!"

The purple fire that a silenced Antonin Dolohov once sent her way, leaving her scarred for life, bounced off of her shield with the help of Sirius and Narcissa, returning to its creator. Shocked and unprepared, for the counter, the curse hit Walburga right in the chest and the witch screamed out in agony as her body erupted in flames. Unlike Fiendfyre, that seemed to enjoy playing with its food, this cursed fire engulfed the Black matriarch completely within seconds, heat and smoke drowning out her cries.

When the flames burned out, there was nothing left but ashes.

Hermione brought a hand to her mouth and stifled a scream before turning and retching in the corner. "Oh my gods! Sirius! We have to—"

"Don't panic," Narcissa calmly ordered. "It was self-defence."

Hermione turned back, gaping at the blond. "This . . . she's . . . did you plan this?!"

"Of course not, but I can't help but see the silver lining," Narcissa said. "Walburga is dead, you've acquired your treasure, and I . . . I have acquired mine." She then turned and ran her fingers over the tapestry on the wall, smiling softly as the magic tingled beneath her touch.

Sirius stared at his cousin. "You wanted the tapestry. All along."

"My father is Head of the House now. I'll have him reinstate you, Sirius."

He scoffed. "Don't bother."

She turned to face him, a softness in her expression. "If it will help your transition, you won't be the only blood-traitor."

His eyes widened. "This is . . . this is about Andromeda?"

She nodded. "Father and mother didn't want to disown her. They wholeheartedly did not approve of her choice in spouse, but . . . to be cut from our lives? Never. Your parents insisted and father was bound by the tapestry and mother was bound by her vows to him. But now . . ."

"You're going to reinstate Andromeda," Hermione said, shocked, forcefully not looking in the direction of the pile of ashes that used to be Sirius's mother.

Narcissa tilted her chin up, her gaze one of fearsome determination. "I will not lose both of my sisters to monsters. One, I can save."

"But we . . . we killed her," Hermione said, looking down at her hands as though she could see the blood on them. She could admit that she'd done some fairly terrible things in her life. Trapping Rita Skeeter for weeks, cursing Marietta Edgecombe, leaving Dolores Umbridge to the fate of centaurs. All deserving, but Hermione knew that she'd gone a bit overboard.

But this?

Sirius shook his head. "You did nothing. We turned her own curse against her."

"I've seen that curse before," she said, choking back a sob as her hand subconsciously touched her ribcage. "It . . . I was . . ."

Narcissa reached out and put a hand on Sirius's shoulder. "Take her home, Sirius. I will call the Aurors. Let's do so before Kreacher comes running in and starts screaming."