October 15, 1980
There was life inside Grimmauld Place once again. Walburga had taken it upon herself to hire more house elves to help manage the manor since Kreacher was the primary caretaker of Amalthea. Gone were the days that Walburga spent in her room, withering away. Her time was now spent in Orion's study. She made the decision to keep Amalthea's presence a secret until she came of age.
Many relatives will be pining for the Black Inheritance now that Regulus disappeared. Her fears were confirmed when she received a letter from Narcissa, the youngest daughter of her brother Cygnus. She invited her aunt to visit the manor to see their firstborn son. But it was more than an invite, her cunning niece made sure to include how the boy resembled Cygnus, albeit having his father's hair. Perhaps that might win over her brother, but not her. The boy was a Malfoy Heir, not hers.
But it did light a fire beneath her, she was quick to prepare the documents for Amalthea's inheritance, sending letters back and forth with her contact at Gringotts's. Everything was to be done under the table, but it would all be legitimate. Since she was Amalthea's magical guardian, she had the right to keep everything closed.
Hearing a cry come from down the hall, she rushed to her feet. It was time to take a break and soothe her grandchild. When she entered the nursery, she saw Kreacher holding a very fussy Amalthea. Her chubby little cheeks were flushed, soft whines leaving her. Kreacher looked up to her, before offering Amalthea to her. Walburga took her from his hands, cradling her head, speaking coolly, "What is it, Amalthea? What has you so upset?"
She bounced the whining child, softening her tone, "Shhh shh, it's okay…" She stroked one of her cheeks, reveling at how soft it was. Amalthea whined louder, a small hiccup forming at the end. Walburga let out a small chuckle, "My goodness, what a fit."
A snap came from behind her, Millie, their kitchen elf, appeared with a warm bottle. Kreacher quickly took it, hurrying over to his Mistress, presenting the bottle to her. Walburga took it, going over to the chair in the corner, "My, is this what you're pitching a fit for?" She teased the newborn, adjusting the bottle in her hand.
The babe latched onto her bottle quickly, her whines quietening. Relaxing back in the chair, Walburga watched her with a content smile. When the bottle was almost empty, Amalthea's eyes began drifting shut. At Walburga's motion, Kreacher approached them, taking Amalthea carefully back. Once she was settled in his arms, he used a cloth to wipe her cheeks. He then carefully positioned her head over his shoulder, gently patting her back.
Amalthea let out a sleepy whine, just wishing to sleep, but Kreacher continued to pat her back. After a few more pats, she finally let out a soft burp. Satisfied, Kreacher carried her back over to the bassinet, "Good Little Mistress. Sleep well." Once Amalthea had a grip on her green blanket, she was out like a light.
Happy squeals filled the manor, her hands reaching up to the mobile. Stars danced and shimmered above her, her eyes taking it in with wide eyes. She was laid down on a blanket in the study, where Walburga could keep an eye on her. She had purchased the mobile to keep her occupied. As she passed by to grab something from the shelf, she tapped the top of the mobile with her wand.
The stars changed into butterflies of all colors, fluttering about Amalthea's head. Little legs started kicking, Amalthea reaching up for the butterflies with delighted giggles. They danced out of her reach, but would occasionally swoop down to her nose, making her squeal.
Though she had a reputation to keep in public eye, Walburga enjoyed being able to remove the mask behind closed doors. No matter where she went in the manor, she tried to have Amalthea with her every opportunity. Though Kreacher was very strict about Amalthea's bedtime, insisting she doesn't wake her grandchild during naptime. But she couldn't help it, her granddaughter was the most adorable thing.
It was entirely different from her son's when they were infants. Amalthea wasn't patient like Regulus, she was a very fussy baby. But she also was surprisingly gentle, holding onto Kreacher's ear for comfort, but not tugging on it like Sirius would.
"That's it, little mistress! Almost there!" Kreacher's encouraging voice broke her train of thought. Turning around, she saw Amalthea's fists in the air, her face scrunched in. Her little legs were kicking as she tried to roll over. After some time, the little grunts turned into cries, and Kreacher hurried over to help her.
Once Amalthea was on her tummy, she quietened back down, grabbing a rattle laying on the blanket. Walburga chuckled, taking her books to the desk, "Perhaps still a bit too early for her." Kreacher watched Amalthea shake the rattle, a happy squeal leaving her.
November 19, 1980
"Baaaba…ah!"
"Yes, little miss, Millie hears you." Millie replied from the kitchen, putting the red pacifier in the pot.
"Ba! Ba!" Amalthea babbled, waving her arms frantically. Kreacher had her sitting upright on his lap, trying to distract her with a toy, "Little Mistress, look, look at the ball!" Amalthea's attention went to the brightly colored ball rolling around on the floor. Kreacher used his free hand to control it, making it bounce and roll to her. She grabbed onto the ball and squealed, kicking her legs.
With the ball in her grasp, she brought it to her mouth, trying to suck on it. Kreacher quickly levitated the ball from her hands with a snap, saying, "No no, Kreacher can't let Little Mistress eat that! Not good to put in mouth!"
Amalthea looked like she might cry for a moment, before she redirected her attention to the kitchen again, calling out, "Bababa…BAH!" Her sudden shout made Kreacher jump, Millie hurrying in with the clean pacifier, "Yes, yes, here it is!"
"Bababa-" Amalthea's babbles were silenced when Millie popped the pacifier in her mouth. When silence resumed, Kreacher let out a relieved sigh. Little Mistress Amalthea was a very vocal baby now that she found her voice. Walburga found it adorable, and so did the others, except now Amalthea has found out she can be louder.
His mistress entered the room, her face lighting up when Amalthea began reaching up for her, making little grunts. Walburga lifted Amalthea up into her arms, speaking softly, "Well, hello, Miss Amalthea. What do you have to say today?" When the pacifier was removed, Millie hurried back to the kitchens.
She immediately began talking, "BAH! Bababa bah!" Walburga nodded along, smiling, "Mmhm?" Amalthea mimicked her grandmother, "Mmmm.." She reached up, touching Walburga's cheek as she continued, "Bababa..UGNH!" Her legs gave a little kick to accentuate her point.
"Oh my, really?" The elder witch continued to amuse her, carrying her over to the loveseat, "And how was your nap earlier?"
"Baaaaaaah…babababa.."
Kreacher watched the scene with a smile, though he secretly noted to make sure they got more pacifiers.
February 12, 1981
"It's good for you little miss." Kreacher tried to convince his charge, who was giving him the silent treatment. Amalthea was not happy today because her bottle had officially been taken away in an attempt to get her to eat solids. Locked up in a highchair with no escape, her only way of protest was to keep her lips shut and pretend the elf wasn't there.
Kreacher sighed as he put the spoon down into the bowl, "Little miss, please. Kreacher wants you to grow." But it wasn't happening. Getting another idea, he went over to the diaper bag, taking out her favorite pacifier. It was a soft yellow pacifier in the shape of a snitch. When Amalthea saw it, her eyes went wide, her hands patting the table excitedly.
"Here comes the binky.." Kreacher almost sang, wavering it over Amalthea's head. When Amalthea opened her mouth for the pacifier, the spoon swept in and put the oatmeal in instead. She looked taken off guard, the mouth hanging in her mouth. After a moment, she began smacking her mouth, some of the food escaping the sides. Kreacher simply wiped it off her mouth, smiling at her, "Is it good, Little Mistress?"
Amalthea gave a happy smile, "Mmmm!" She reached for the bowl, sticking her hand in. Kreacher let out a panicked sound, "Kreacher begs Little Mistress to wait! It's not ladylike-" She didn't listen to him, shoving her oatmeal covered fingers into her mouth. Soon her whole face and bib were covered, but he was just happy she ate the whole bowl.
Once the dishes were clean, he took her out of the highchair, smiling as he heard her giggle, "Kreacher thinks it's bath time for the Little Mistress."
Walburga hummed softly under her breath as she carefully rubbed the lavender oil on Amalthea's tummy. The nighttime ritual helped calm her down but also allowed Walburga some bonding time with her. She massaged her little arms and legs, then her fists until they slowly uncurled. Once she finished and got the nightdress on her, she tucked her in before leaving Kreacher to read the bedtime story.
May 14, 1981
"Mistress.." Kreacher addressed his mistress quietly, not wanting to alert his charge. Walburga motioned for him to speak, sipping from her teacup. He hesitated for a moment, wondering if it was his place.
"Well?" Walburga asked impatiently, "What do you wish to say, Kreacher?" He quickly bowed his head to her, "Mistress, Kreacher has noticed little mistress's body is..weak." Walburga's cold glare shut him up quickly, her tone venomous, "Hold your tongue. Don't speak of your master like that."
"Yes mis-"
Soft coughing took their attention. Amalthea was crawling on her stomach, but the infant was making small gasps. Kreacher hurried to her, lifting her up to see if she perhaps swallowed something. His heart sank when his ears picked up the wheezing coming from her chest. This was exactly what he noticed before.
"What is it Kreacher? Why is she-" Walburga stood above them, her face pale as she saw Amalthea panting for air. Her chest was barely rising. She looked like she was suffocating. Without a second thought, she snatched her grandchild up, "We need to take her to St. Mungo's!"
"Welcome to St. Mungo's, how-"
Walburga cut off the receptionist, "Get me a healer, now! My grandchild can't breathe!" The receptionist attempted to calm her, "Ma'am, may I ask what her sympt-"
"Now." Walburga repeated herself, her eyes darkened with anger, "Or I'll have the Black family pull out our investments in this hospital." At the mention of her name, the receptionist paled, standing up quickly from her chair, "I'll get a healer right now, Lady Black."
Walburga kept her cold glare on the witch until she was out of sight. Hearing Amalthea's wheeze, she turned her attention back to her, speaking in a softer tone, "I know, just try to breathe the best you can."
"Lady Black?" A Healer called for them, motioning for them to follow him into a room, "I'm Healer Gamp, who's the patient?" Walburga hurried, holding Amalthea close to her chest, "My granddaughter, Amalthea. She's 8 months old, and she was crawling and then-"
"Okay, let me see her." He held his hands out, to which Walburga took a step back. Healer Gamp gave her an understanding look, "I swear I just want to help her, Lady Black." Walburga fought herself, knowing she was being foolish. At the sound of Amalthea's cough, she finally gave in, carefully giving her over to him.
Gamp placed her down on the cot, leaning down to listen to her chest. After a moment of silence, his brows furrowed, rising back up, "You said she's 8 months, correct?" He took out his wand from the holster, holding it over Amalthea's head to run some diagnostics.
"Yes." Walburga answered, messing with her hands nervously, "But she was born pre-term." He nodded, looking at the runes as they shimmered and came into view, "That makes sense. She's small for her age." He took some glasses from his pocket and placed them on, narrowing his eyes at the runes, "Huh.. her chest isn't blocked by anything.."
When he turned back to them, Walburga straightened her spine, trying to keep her cool. Gamp looked over to Kreacher, who was staying by her side, "Has she been exhibiting signs of exhaustion after play?" Kreacher looked up at his Mistress, who gave a permissive nod.
Stepping forward, Kreacher spoke, "Little Mistress gets tired quickly. Kreacher noticed this a week ago. She would cough after play, which Kreacher thought was strange." Gamp nodded along, rubbing a small circle on Amalthea's chest, "Okay, that clears it up."
"What? What does that mean?" Walburga demanded answers, stepping a few steps forward, "What's wrong with her?!" Gamp held his hand up to calm her, speaking carefully, "She's okay, she has Anxiis Pulmonis." At Walburga's stare, he clarified, "Ticklish Lungs. This appears in a lot of magical children born early."
She relaxed, letting out a sigh of relief. Once she had her bearings, she asked courteously, "What can we do to help her?" Gamp motioned for her to help support Amalthea, once she took his place, he went over to a cabinet. After a moment of searching, he took out a vial that had a spritzer at the top, "This is a potion created to help ease the symptoms."
He walked back over to Amalthea, spritzing it in her face, watching her breathe in the mist, "Whenever she has an attack like this, make sure she inhales enough until she can breathe again." He waited a moment before spritzing again, watching her inhale it again. The wheezing started dying down, Amalthea's breathing began to level out.
Walburga felt like she could finally breathe as well, looking up to the Healer with a relieved sigh, "Thank you, Healer Gamp." He chuckled, patting the top of Amalthea's head, "No need to thank me. I'm just glad we could get this little one all better."
She motioned to Amalthea, "Is there anything else we need to know?" Gamp thought for a second before holding up his finger, "Ah, just a few things. Make sure she doesn't overdo playtime, if she starts to act tired, then it's time to stop. Try to keep her away from things that might trigger it, like smoke, pollen, dust, mold, and open windows at night, those kinds of things. Also, if anyone in your family wears heavy cologne or perfume, ask them to not wear it when holding her."
"Understood." Walburga replied, picking up Amalthea and handing her down to Kreacher. Healer Gamp wrote his signature on the chart, signing off for the potions, "Other than that, you're all set." Walburga took the note with a pleasant smile, "Thank you again, Healer Gamp. You've been a great help." He was surprised, knowing that Lady Black rarely showed kindness to others, "Of course. I'm happy to help, madam." He gave her a smile back before turning around to open the door for them.
"Obliviate."
As Walburga and Kreacher passed the receptionist's desk, the young witch got a good look at the baby the elf was carrying. After a moment, she decided to call out, "Oh, Lady Black, glad to see your granddaughter is well. She's absolutely adorable."
Walburga stopped in her tracks, her heels clicking on the hard floors. Turning around slowly, she gave the receptionist the same pleasant smile, "Isn't she?" As she approached the desk, Kreacher snapped his fingers, an invisible barrier hiding them from the other residents.
"What's her n-"
"Obliviate."
August 20, 1981
An adorable pink cake was levitated over to the highchair, Amalthea squealing in joy as she dug her fingers in. Walburga resisted the urge to correct her, allowing her to enjoy her first birthday. Millie was the first by Amalthea's side, asking her excitedly, "Millie made the cake extra yummy for you, little miss. Do you like it?"
"Mmmmm!" Amalthea replied, shoving frosted-covered hands into her mouth. Kreacher had a napkin prepared, wiping at her cheeks with each bite, "Messy, messy. Kreacher must keep Little Mistress's dress clean."
Walburga had taken it upon herself to buy Amalthea a brand-new dress for her birthday. While most of the time, she was in her onesies and gowns, today was a special day. She had officially turned one year old. Yellow tule poked out from beneath the skirts, ruffles, and bows decorating it head to toe. Though she supposed they should have put her in it after the birthday cake.
That wasn't her only present, Walburga also bought some new toys for her, though she resisted getting the toy broom. As adorable as it would be to see Amalthea riding around on it, it was much too soon, and she worried it may trigger her condition.
Amalthea grabbed a fistful of cake, bringing it over to her mouth slowly. As she shoved the sugary mess in, pink frosting dripped off her hand. Kreacher let out a noise of terror, quickly catching it with the napkin before it hit the dress, "Little Mistress, please, let Kreacher help-"
"Nuh!"
November 1, 1981
"Come to Millie! That's right!"
Amalthea had her face scrunched in focus, clumsily putting one foot in front of another. Kreacher was right behind her, in case she fell. Millie was holding her small hands out, encouraging the small toddler, "Yes, little miss, that's it!"
Walburga was in her armchair, sipping her tea peacefully. After getting all the paperwork done early, she now gets to enjoy these moments with Amalthea. It felt like she was growing so fast. She was a bright young thing too, mimicking her grandmother's facial expressions when she reads the Daily Prophet.
"Mmmm…" Amalthea hummed as she took some wobbly steps, her lips pursed as she focuses. At the sound of soft clicking, Walburga opened the window with the flick of her wand. Her black-banded owl, Maximillian, flew to her side, dropping the daily prophet in her lap.
She watched as Amalthea landed in Millie's arms, her face lit up as Kreacher and Millie both cheered for her. "Binky?" She asked softly, one of the few words she knew. As she reached out with grabby hands, Kreacher handed over her pacifier, "Here you are, little mistress, well earned."
She popped it in her mouth before dropping down on her hands and knees, crawling over to Walburga's chair. Seeing her come, the elder witch chuckled, reaching down to pick her up, "Want to read the Prophet with me?"
"Mm!" Amalthea replied, getting settled on her grandmother's lap. Once she was comfortable, Walburga unfurled the prophet, a smile on her lips, "Let's see.." As she read the headline, her smile dropped instantly.
"Sirius.." She whispered in horror, causing Kreacher to hurry over. Amalthea made a whine as she was taken off her lap. Walburga quickly stood, her breath catching, "This..This isn't right. He-" The world turned dark, the last thing she heard as she fainted was a soft voice calling out, "Gam!"
After her fainting spell, she had to remain bedridden for a few days. It gave her enough time to come to terms with everything that happened. Her eldest son was in Azkaban for murdering twelve muggles and one of his friends, Peter Pettigrew. The Potters were now dead, and their infant son who was Amalthea's age had just disappeared from the wizarding world after the defeat of the Dark Lord. Her niece Bellatrix was also sent to Azkaban after torturing the Longbottoms to insanity, leaving behind the couple's infant, who was also Amalthea's age.
It felt wrong. When she met Tom Riddle, he made promises of a better world. He was so charming, Orion often commented that he should have gone into politics. But this wasn't what they both imagined, this was a nightmare.
Despite what the tabloids said, she knew he wouldn't remain dead for long. She will need to be prepared, and do what it takes to ensure Amalthea's future. It would take sacrifice, but she was sure her granddaughter will forgive her when she was older.
June 14, 1985
Giggles erupted from the halls as little Amalthea raced against Frigg, one of the newer house-elves in charge of her. As she turned the corner into the dining room, she practically skidded on the wooden floor to keep from running into her Grandmother.
Walburga held a very strict look on her aged face, looking down at Amalthea with a raised brow, "Young lady, is that how you present yourself?" Amalthea bowed her head in shame, seeing the dirt along the bottom of her dress, "Sorry, grandmother."
"Enough of that. Raise your head, you bow your head to no one, do you understand me?" Walburga scolded, lifting Amalthea's chin, "You are not some house elf." As she caught sight of those stormy grey orbs, she melted slightly, offering the girl a small smile, "But now that you're here, we can begin your etiquette lesson for the day."
The little girl didn't seem pleased at the mention of her lesson but did not complain. She watched her grandmother approach the table, placing a gloved hand on the ornate chairs. The elder witch glanced in her direction, asking softly, "Now, what did you learn yesterday?"
Amalthea shuffled her shoes shyly, replying, "Always be-"
"No." Walburga held her hand up to silence her, "Show me, Amalthea."
She hesitated for a moment, unsure if she really did remember it all. Swallowing down her nerves, she wobbled over to her chair, going to reach for it before she stopped herself. She wasn't meant to take out her chair, she had to wait for-
Shhft..
As she looked up, she saw Kreacher pulling her seat out for her, bowing his head in respect. Once she was seated, she looked towards her grandmother for assurance. Walburga was pleased, giving her an approving nod. Once they were both seated, the lesson continued.
"Now, pretend our whole table is filled with guests." Walburga began, dark smoke erupting from the tip of her wand, filling the seats with shadowy figures. Once she was finished, she tucked her wand back to her side, motioning to her granddaughter, "You're the hostess. You must start the conversations, no one is allowed to speak until you do."
Amalthea looked at the shadow figure next to her grandmother's chair, clearing her throat softly before attempting to speak proper, "Mr. Shadow, how is the ministry treating you?" Walburga shook her head, cutting in, "No, no. Never begin with the business. Bad form. Try again." She heard Amalthea's frustrated sigh but didn't comment.
October 20, 1985
"And how is your wife, Mr. Bunny?"
Kreacher stood behind the pink chair, making the yellow rabbit doll move as he spoke, "She's been well, sorry she couldn't attend your dinner, Madam Black."
Amalthea gave a smile to the bunny, "No trouble at all, Mr. Bunny, I'm sure she's been very busy at home with the children. Five, is that correct?"
Kreacher's eyes went wide for a moment, before he replied with the doll, "Yes, I am honored that you remember my family, Madam Black." He watched Amalthea give a nod, picking up her teacup delicately, "I always keep dear friends in my thoughts, Mr. Bunny."
"Oh, Madam Black, where do you get your hair done? I must know!" Millie asked from behind the chair of a green frog doll. Amalthea turned her attention to her, replying gracefully, "Why, Mrs. Frog, I will be happy to tell you!"
Frigg hurried over to her side, whispering in her ear. After a moment, Amalthea sat back up, clearing her throat, "I mean.. Mrs. Frog, I would be happy to give you their contact after dinner." There was a pause, and she quickly followed it up with, "But you must tell me who does your gowns, your dress tonight is breathtaking."
"Oh, of course, Madam Black!"
February 16, 1987
Walburga hummed beneath her breath as she listened to the song Amalthea was playing on the piano. Kreacher was by her side, correcting any key she hits out of tune. This was a piece that Amalthea knew fairly well though, so Walburga wanted to test her.
Standing from her chair, she glided over to her granddaughter's side, asking her softly, "Who are the twenty-eight families?" Amalthea's dark brows furrowed as she struggled to play the keys and think at the same time. After some time, she finally responded, "Black, Malfoy, Bulstrode, Burke, Macmillan, Crouch, Gaunt-" As she went through the list, Walburga remained silent, nodding along. When she finished, there was a pause before she decided to continue the piece. As her hands continued the melody, Walburga gave a pleased hum.
"Very good."
September 22, 1989
Amalthea danced around the foyer with an enchanted dummy, keeping her chin up confidently. Walburga clapped her hands to the beat of the music, "Very good, Amalthea. One, two, three. One, two, three. Turn!"
Kreacher watched from his place beside the wall, a smile upon his face. He admired his young mistress as she spun around gracefully. There had been complaints when her dresses grew heavier, but she had gotten a grasp of it quickly. Now, it showed to be no problem for the child.
"Now, remember, conversation with your dance partner is very important."
Amalthea felt her arms waver from the stiff position, but kept it together, speaking politely, "Grandmother, when will I get to go to my first ball?" Walburga circled the dancing pair, watching each step closely for any mistakes, "When you make your first debut, of course. At your debutante ball, you will be announced, and society will see what a beautiful young woman you've become."
"How old will I be?"
"Sixteen." Walburga replied instantly. Her reply threw Amalthea off, quickly catching her footing in the dance before her grandmother noticed. As she got back into step, she thought about her situation. Seven years was a very long time to wait. But it wasn't like she was the only heiress having to wait, right?
October 15, 1989
"Again!"
Amalthea's fingers tightened around her grandfather's wand, pointing it at the training dummy, "Uri Vivit.." An orange light threw from the wand, landing on the dummy's cotton threading and igniting into bright flames. As the fire grew over the dummy, Walburga took out her wand, waving it over the dummy to extinguish the flames.
"Well done, Amalthea. " She praised her granddaughter, offering a warm smile. Amalthea seemed to preen from her approval, pointing the wand at the dummy again, "What's next?"
"Ah ah.." Walburga placed her hand on the eager child's arm, "Best not to overdo it, dear. Let's have some tea."
Amalthea relaxed instantly, lowering her arm obediently, "Yes, grandmother."
Walburga ran her hand over the black ringlets that fell down the girl's back, speaking softly, "I had Millie prepare those biscuits you seemed to enjoy last week."
January 4, 1990
Kreacher hurried to bring the bowl of water and cloth, cringing as he heard his mistress's haggard coughing. As he apparated inside the room, he went over by Walburga's side. Amalthea was in a chair by the bed, holding Walburga's hand tightly in hers. Kreacher's hands were trembling as he dabbed at his mistress's pale complexion.
"A-Amal…thea.." Walburga rasped, turning her head to see her. Amalthea looked terrified, tears forming in her eyes, "Grandmother.."
"You..must.." She was cut off with another coughing fit, bringing her handkerchief to her mouth. Kreacher tried not to look, wanting to stay focused on his task. Mistress was dying, and he had to make her as comfortable as possible. The dark red stain on the handkerchief was reminder enough.
"Save your strength, grandmother."
"No..No.. listen to me.." The elder witch insisted weakly, giving her granddaughter's hand a squeeze, "I need you to..listen.."
His younger mistress seemed to be fighting tears as she replied, "I'm listening, grandmother."
Walburga managed a weak smile, tears forming in her eyes as well, "I'm..so proud of you.." Amalthea parted her lips to speak, but Walburga wasn't done, "There are others who will.. try to undermine you.. Protect our family.. at all costs."
Amalthea felt the grip begin to loosen, and she hurried to get out her reply, tears falling down her cheeks, "I-I will! I promise, grandmother!"
The elder witch gave a tired sigh, looking over to the end of the bed, "Orion..you're here.." As Amalthea and Kreacher looked, they were met with the wardrobe. No one was there. There was a slow breath, and then Walburga went still.
Kreacher hopped down to the floor, going over to Amalthea's side. She hung her head, her hands still clinging to Walburga's. He said nothing, allowing her the space to grieve. They stayed like that for an hour, Amalthea's sobs occasionally breaking the silence. When the antique clock in the bedroom gave its third chime, Amalthea gathered herself. She let go of Walburga's hand, wiping away the remaining tears from her eyes.
Clearing her throat, Amalthea forced her expression to go neutral, though her voice wobbled "K-Kreacher, could you.."
"Yes, Mistress."
