January 6, 1990

Kreacher peeked into Amalthea's room, she hadn't left it since the passing. In her reading nook, she was curled up in her chair. Papers and books surrounded her in piles. Millie had to convince her to eat, allowing her to take her meals in her room. He saw the empty plate on the floor, and let out a heavy sigh. Amalthea used to despise studying, now it was all she did. She didn't meet his eye, keeping her head down low.

"Mistress, Kreacher wishes for permission to retrieve an item-" Kreacher approached her chair, offering a weak smile. Amalthea took a deep breath for a moment before replying quietly, "Permission granted." He bowed his head to her as he backed out, sparing her one more glance before he apparated out.


Kreacher followed the wizard to the curtained object, he had given the slip his old mistress left for him. In it was her signature, allowing him to retrieve the delivery. When the drapery opened, he gasped in adoration, "Mistress!"

Before him was the visage of his older Mistress, her memory enchanted upon the canvas. Walburga stared down at him from her portrait, her arms crossed over her chest, "Yes, Kreacher. It's me. Now, return me home at once." The drapes closed around her sharply, the wizard holding out his hand to the house-elf.

Kreacher took out the bag of galleons, tossing it into the wizard's hand. He snatched it up, weighing it in his hand before giving a pleased grin, "Pleasure doing business with you." Kreacher gave a grumbled response, picking up the portrait, "Young Mistress will be pleased.."

"How has she been?" Walburga's voice replied through the curtains. Kreacher apparated them into the study before he replied, "Mourning, Mistress. She's been mourning the loss of the madam." Frigg put down his duster to help, grabbing hold of the other side, "Frigg helps! Millie is with Mistress, Millie tries to get Mistress to eat."

"Oh this won't do." Walburga replied, her curtains opening to reveal her disappointed stare, "I thought I raised that girl better." Kreacher placed a corner down so he could prepare the wall, replying quietly, "Kreacher sees Mistress still doing her studies, but Young Mistress hasn't left her room." Frigg nodded along, coming into Walburga's view with his pitiful expression, "Frigg never gets to play with Mistress. Mistress is too sad. Frigg misses tea parties."

Walburga sneered at the elf before looking in Kreacher's direction, "Hurry up and put me up, Kreacher. I want a word with her."


"Mistress please, just one bite." Millie continued to push from her place by the chair. She had plated some of Amalthea's favorite scones, but the young girl continued to resist. A pale hand gently pushed the plate away, tiredly replying, "I'm not hungry, Millie. Take it away."

Millie put the plate down, frowning deeply at her mistress, "Millie worries, ma'am. Mistress must be careful. Millie doesn't want Mistress to get sick.." Amalthea sighed loudly, sinking deeper into her chair, "Leave me to my studies."

"Mistress needs to care for her body-"

"Millie, please just-"

"AMALTHEA VIOLETTA BLACK." A familiar shrill voice echoed in the manor, causing Amalthea to throw herself out of her seat in fear. Her back straightened, and the book in her lap clattered to the floor. "G-Grandmother?" She stammered, looking around her room in fright.

"COME HERE NOW, GIRL!"

Millie hurried to open the bedroom door, watching the Young Mistress scurry out. Amalthea hurried down the stairs, confused as she saw Frigg and Kreacher standing by some curtains. She looked around the hallway, her brows furrowed, "I-I heard.."

"You heard me, child."

Amalthea spun back around to see the curtains come apart, her grandmother's face coming into view. Walburga must have had the portrait painted just before she became bedridden, having some color in her cheeks. She gave Amalthea a small smile before her face hardened, "What is this appearance? You look like a beggar."

She looked at her nightgown, seeing the tea stains covering the white silk. Reaching a hand up to touch her hair, she winced as her fingers caught knots in her curls. Walburga watched the display for a moment before turning to Kreacher, "Hire some elves that are specialized in witch care. I will not have my granddaughter look like such a spectacle again."

Amalthea looked down at the floor in shame, feeling her cheeks burn. Millie took her hand carefully, tugging on it to follow, "Come, Mistress, Millie will make you look proper again!" The young girl obeyed, following after the house elf.

Walburga cleared her throat uncomfortably, trying not to feel guilty, "Get to it, Kreacher." Her curtains shut sharply, hiding her from the others. Kreacher bowed his head to the portrait, "Yes, Mistress."


Amalthea kept her eyes trained on the water as Millie brushed her hair, wincing when the comb caught on a knot. Herbs swirled around her, though she never knew where they came from. She's never seen a garden, let alone the outside.

"What was Mistress reading, Millie wonders."

She scooped a rose petal from the bath, watching the water drip down her palm, "Il Libro del Cortegiano.." There was a silence, before Amalthea continued, "The Book of the Courtier, authored by Count Baldassare Castiglione. He was rumored to be a wizard in secret relations with muggle aristocrats, very famous in the Duke's Court."

"It's an older book, yes?"

Amalthea let out a noise of affirmation, letting the rose petal fall back into the tub, "It was published in 1528, but the etiquette still remains relevant to my lessons." Her attention was drawn to a levitating soap bar, watching as a sponge joins it in the air and lathered up.

"How so, Mistress?" Millie's voice snapped her out of the trance, magic still wondrous to the child. Looking over to the wall, she continued, "Well, the attributes that Castiglione set out for noble gentlemen are still as important now. Nobles must have impeccable character, grace, talents, and be of noble birth. They must be educated in classical education and participate in the arts."

Millie snapped her fingers, the sponge beginning to scrub the child's skin. Amalthea held her arms in the air as she continued, "Cool mind, a good voice, along with proper bearing and gestures. Make a good impression by being modest while showing your accomplishments with grace. That's what sets them apart from the others."

Millie poured water over her hair, rinsing out the suds, "Millie wonders why a lady is studying Gentlemen's etiquette?"

"Because I'm going to be more than a Lady, Millie." Amalthea replied stubbornly, pushing a wet curl from her face, "I'm going to be the Head of the Family. Grandmother said so. That means I need to know more than a lady does."

"Hmm..makes sense..Millie thinks."


August 10, 1991

"Again."

Amalthea let out a heavy pant, sweat dripping down her forehead, "I-I can't.." She had a tight grip on her wand, except it wasn't really hers, was it? It was her grandfather's. It used to work for her, but now it put up a fight with anything she tried to cast. It humiliated her, making her look like a failure.

"Again, Amalthea." Her grandmother's calm voice hovered above her head.

She gritted her teeth, forcing herself to fix her posture, pointing the dark wand at the dummy, "Hostes canite." The wand sputtered out a small puff of air, as if mocking her.

"Again."

"I'M TRYING." Amalthea hissed, spinning around with a glare only for it to fall moments later. Walburga held a daring glare, her lips tightly pressed together. After a moment of silence, the elder witch spoke, "If you're done having a pity party, then we can continue with your lessons."

"The wand won't work." Amalthea tried to defend herself. Walburga scoffed, crossing her arms over her chest, "Toss it away then. You're a Black. You have the purest of magic running through you."

"But-"

"Enough. Again."

Amalthea huffed, turning away from her and towards the dummy again, gripping the wand, "Hostes-"

"With feeling, Amalthea."

Her jaw clenched, her eyes narrowing on the dummy, "Hostes Canite." Another sputter from the wand, absolutely useless to her. It wasn't fair. Why didn't her grandfather's wand work for her?

"Again!"

She took a deep breath, pointing the wand at the dummy, speaking louder, "Hostes Canite!" A gust of wind came from the wand, though it only rocked the dummy slightly.

"AGAIN, AMALTHEA! WHAT ARE YOU GOING TO DO WHEN AN ENEMY COMES FOR YOU!?"

Amalthea stumbled a bit at Walburga's words, but she gained her footing, trying to put more feeling into it, "Hostes Canite!" Nothing. It felt like merlin himself was laughing at her.

"YOUR HEAD WILL BE SERVED ON A PLATTER, GIRL! THEY'LL TAKE YOUR LIFE AND THEN YOUR POSITION!"

She saw the dummy begin to move as if it were coming to life. She tried to think about what her grandmother was saying, "W-What.." She looked back to the portrait only for a bright yellow spell to brush past her vision.

"FIGHT, AMALTHEA!"

Her head whipped around to see the dummy was holding a fake wand, and coming straight for her. She stumbled back, feeling fear take over her, "Grandmother!" She dodged another spell.

"HE'S GOING TO KILL YOU, AMALTHEA. FIGHT!"

Amalthea let out a scream as a spell blew past her and singed the side of her arm. Seeing another come for her head, she dropped to the floor, throwing her arm out frantically, "Hostes Canite! Hostes Canite!" The wand continued to sputter, small breezes coming from the tip.

"YOU'RE DEAD, AMALTHEA. YOU FAILED!"

Bright green lit up the room as it headed straight for her. She screamed in terror, tears blurring her vision, "HOSTES CANITE!"

A large gust of wind erupted from the wand, blasting the dummy into the wall with a loud crash. The strength of the wind slowly tore apart the stuffing and innards, blowing them around the room. Amalthea kept her wand up, gasping through her sobs, "H-Hostes.."

"Well done, child!" Walburga praised her, unable to see her state. Kreacher released the charm on the dummy, going over to her side, "Mistress…" Amalthea flinched as he reached for her, the tip of the wand pointing in his face.

It took a moment for her to recognize him, the wand slowly lowering. It broke his heart to see her eyes so wide in terror, "W-Was I really going to die?" Kreacher shook his head quickly, feeling guilty for scaring her so much, "Mistress did not wish to harm Young Mistress, only nudge." But it was obvious the opposite had the effect, for Amalthea was a shivering mess.

"Kreacher, is Amalthea okay?" Walburga's voice came from the hall.

When he looked back to reply, a cold hand touched his arm. When he looked back, Amalthea had tears in her eyes, "Please Kreacher. I-I can't do any more today. I'm so scared.." He felt his heartbreak at how her voice wobbled. The Mistress was being unusually harsh, not even Master Regulus had training this extreme.

Patting her hand, he reached into the bag he carried for her. Taking out an empty flask that once contained her medicine, he went over to Walburga's portrait. Showing her the flask, he grumbled, "Young Mistress had another attack."

"I see. Take her to rest." Walburga seemed to look unaffected by the news, but he knew better. The curtains shut around her portrait, a sign to leave her alone. Kreacher headed back to Amalthea, surprised to see her smiling at him.

"You lied for me." She whispered.

Kreacher nodded, reaching his hand out to her, "Kreacher's loyalty belongs to Mistress Amalthea." She took his hand, smiling happily, "Thank you Kreacher, it's nice to have a friend." As he helped her up, he felt his heart swell with pride. His mistress considered him to be a friend. Just like Master Regulus. He was a lucky elf indeed.


July 29 1993

"Freckles believes that lilac looks lovelier with the Mistress's complexion."

"No! Rosie said she looks best in green!"

Amalthea rolled her eyes as the elves fought behind her, her hands gripped around the end of her bed, "Can one of you decide upon a color already? The corset is enough torture."

Millie apparated into the room, tsking at the others, "How is Mistress Amalthea not dressed yet? Freckles and Rosie must stop arguing!"

Rosie gave a huff, kicking her skirts, "Rosie will never let Mistress leave in a color like lilac!" Amalthea let out a sigh, looking over her shoulder, "Leave where, Rosie? I'm just going to the study." Rosie paled as she realized her mistake.

Millie snapped her fingers, a dark blue gown floating from the wardrobe, "Since Mistress has tea with Madame later, Millie suggests an elegant dark blue." Freckles gasped as she saw it, her ears pricking up in excitement, "Yes! Freckles agrees!"

Rosie let out an appreciating hum, "Mistress will look proper. But Rosie will fix her hair to match."

"Glad we could all come to an agreement." Amalthea replied coolly.


July 31, 1993

Picking up the gold-tipped quill, Amalthea carefully scribbled down her signature on the papers sent by the bank. Since her grandmother's passing, the deeds and finances were now her responsibilities. She signed under the title of 'Madame Black' since she could not officially inherit until she came of age.

Reaching over for her teacup, she was surprised to see it was empty. Looking around the study, she realized there were no elves to be found. Where was Kreacher? The manor was quiet, it was unsettling. Standing up from her desk, she grabbed ahold of the parchment, rolling it up neatly.

Once it was sealed, she tied it around Maximillian's claw, petting the owl's head, "Take this to Gringotts's for me, old boy." She whispered to him endearingly, smiling when he gave her finger a loving nip. Cracking the window open for him, she watched him take flight and head off into the sky.

As he disappeared into the clouds, she let her gaze drop down to the world beneath. For a moment, she allowed herself to daydream. She imagined walking down the streets, and meeting new people. Soon, she'll debut into society, and she won't need to hide anymore. Each day brought her closer, the outside air smelling like freedom.

Stepping away from the window, she decided to explore the manor, and perhaps find out what happened to her house elves? As her heels clicked against the floorboards above the stairs, she heard quiet whispers below.

"Rosie must tell-"

"No! Madame said not to!"

"Frigg, we serve the Mistress! Not the Madame!"

She stepped down the stairs quietly, not wanting to alert them. Holding onto the side of the wall, she inched closer to the kitchen doorway.

"Kreacher is going to tell her after Mistress's business is sorted."

"Freckles worries about her being angry.."

Deciding to announce her presence, she straightened her back and entered the room calmly, raising her brow at Freckles, "Angry about what?" The elves all jumped back in surprise, not expecting to see her there. Kreacher placed the Daily Prophet on the table, motioning to it, "Kreacher disobeys Madame's orders, Young Mistress must see."

"See what?" Amalthea picked up the daily prophet, reading over the front page, "Escape from Azkaban. Still eluding capture, S-" The young girl paused as she took in the image of her Uncle. Kreacher waited, fiddling with his hands nervously.

She blinked at the paper, struggling to contain all the emotions she was feeling. Forcing a mask of calm, she tossed the daily prophet back onto the table, "Well. He's made his decisions. It's none of my business."

Clearing her throat, she brushed some imaginary dust from her dress, "Now, Millie, may I trouble you for another cup of tea?" Millie hopped up, snapping her fingers to turn on the stove, "On it, Mistress!" Kreacher watched as Amalthea gave Millie a thankful nod before she exited the room quickly, her posture stiffer than before.

Frigg let out a dramatic sigh, laying against the table, "Mistress didn't take it well.." Freckles looked at him in confusion, tilting her ears, "Mistress seemed fine?"

Kreacher shook his head, grumbling as he followed after her.


September 9, 1993

Seamus came over to Harry's desk, picking up the jar of brass scales "Harry, have you heard? Daily Prophet this morning came in, they reckon Sirius Black's been sighted. "

"Where?"

On the other side of the table, Draco Malfoy looked up, listening closely.

"Not too far from here," Seamus looked excited as he replied, "It was a Muggle down in Dufftown who saw him. 'Course, she didn't really understand. The Muggles think he's just an ordinary criminal, don't they? She phoned the Crime Watchers Hotline, but when the Ministry of Magic got there, he was gone. Like just poof! Thin air."

"That's not too far from here." Ron muttered, looking at Harry worried. Feeling a pair of eyes, he turned around and saw Draco eavesdropping. "What, Malfoy?"

Draco's grey eyes glinted maliciously as they fixated on Harry. He leaned across the table, his voice low, "Thinking of trying to catch Black single-handed, Potter?"

"Yeah, that's right," Harry responded bluntly, a false bravado built up.

Draco's smirk slowly curled into a cruel smile, "Of course, if it was me.. I wouldn't be staying in school, I'd be out there looking for him. "

"What are you talking about, Malfoy?"

"Don't you know, Potter?"

"Know what?"


Millie hummed happily to herself as she decorated the plate with different sweets, "Millie went to the market and got Mistress that apple jelly she enjoys." Amalthea seemed distracted with the daily prophet, her brows furrowed, "Hm.. thank you Millie."

"Enjoy!" She chimed before heading off to the kitchens.

Kreacher watched from his place as Amalthea's trembling hand picked up the teacup, steadying itself enough to allow her a sip. Once she placed it back down, she cleared her throat, "Well.."

There was silence.

Breaking the silence, Kreacher posed the question, "Master Sirius is heading to Hogwarts?" The moment the words left his mouth, the paper in her hands lit aflame. Her eye gave a slight twitch as she let it fall into the soup, "Indeed."

Kreacher watched as she stood from the table, snatching a croissant on her way out, "I've got some things to prepare, break the news to grandmother."


June 7, 1994

Amalthea sat in front of her vanity, allowing Rosie to twist braids into her hair. Laying beside the brushes and jewels was the daily prophet, announcing the capture of Sirius Black at Hogwarts. The announcement of his sentence created a heavyweight in her stomach.

With another glance at her uncle's portrait, she scoffed, tossing the paper to the floor, "Dementor's Kiss? It's barbaric!" Rosie made a noise of agreement behind her, tying the braids back to fall elegantly against her back.

Kreacher picked up the paper, placing it on the side table, "Kreacher wonders what the Mistress has planned?" Amalthea sent him an unsure glance before she sat upright on the stool, "I'm going to go to Hogwarts. Get his sentence revoked."

"And how does Mistress plan to do that?"

"I-" She was at a loss for words. She hadn't truly thought this through, had she? But she had to go. She was about to lose another member of her family. Standing up, she brushed off her skirts, "Right, well.. I'll figure it out when I get there."

As she stepped out of the room, she realized she would have to essentially sneak past her grandmother. Holding her breath, she slowly paced to the door, making sure she avoided the floorboards that were noisy.

As she passed the mauve curtains, she felt the weight in her stomach sink deeper. She was almost there. It didn't feel real when she got to the door, the one object standing between her and the outside world. Glancing behind her, she saw Kreacher fumbling with his clothes nervously.

"M-Mistress, please, think a bit more about this."

"Shh!" She shot a worried glance at the curtains before turning back to him, speaking lowly, "I have to, Kreacher. I can't just let him die."

"Mistress, please, you don't-"

Amalthea offered him a comforting smile before she reached for the doorknob. As she took ahold of the knob, she took a deep breath, turning it to the side slowly.

'SCREEEEEEEEECH!'

A banshee scream tore through the manor, Amalthea quickly covering her ears in pain, "Agh!" Kreacher covered his ears as well, wincing at the ringing.

"AMALTHEA BLACK, WHERE DO YOU THINK YOU'RE GOING!?"

How? She hadn't heard the curtains open? Spinning on her heel, she saw her grandmother glaring from her portrait, "I have to-"

"Leave him, Amalthea." Walburga hissed angrily, "He made his choice to leave. We owe him nothing."

Amalthea hesitated, glancing at the door once again, "Why does the door scream when I try to open it?" Walburga's glare softened, but she remained stern in tone, "It's not safe without a guardian. You must be protected." There was a long pause of silence, before Walburga softened her voice, "I should have told you, though. I apologize. Did it frighten you? Do you need your med-"

"No, I'm alright grandmother," Amalthea responded calmly, regaining her composure. Kreacher watched as she gathered her dress and walked past Walburga's portrait, heading back up to her room. When he went to follow her, Walburga called after him, "Don't let her find him. He can't know."

"Yes, mistress."


June 10, 1994

Amalthea let out a heavy pant as she charged forward with the practice sword, cursing beneath her breath when the training dummy moved out of her attacking range. Kreacher liked to keep her on her toes, never letting her get too comfortable.

"Use your magic with the sword," Walburga advised from her place on the wall. Amalthea groaned as she blocked a swing from the training dummy, "How does one hold a wand and sword!?" Walburga tried not to laugh at her granddaughter's attitude. She always got fussy during her lessons.

"You don't need a wand. You're a Black." That was all she said, allowing it to sink in for her. Amalthea twisted her foot outwardly, plunging her sword forward. The dummy moved out the way with ease, shifting around on its feet as if it were mocking her.

"Ugh, this bloody-"

"Keep your composure, Amalthea. It's unsightly to break a sweat in a duel." Walburga scolded her, watching with amusement as her heiress proceeded to swing harder a the dummy, "If you use magic, it'd be a lot more-"

"AGH!" Amalthea screamed over her, swinging her sword at the dummy's neck. It dodged, once again. Finally, she had enough and focused on the edge of the dummy's stuffing, muttering, "Uri Vivit.." The stuffing lit up like kindling, the dummy beginning to panic as if it truly felt it.

Seeing her chance, Amalthea struck, swinging her sword with a grunt. With only the sound of the gramophone playing in the background, they all watched as the dummy's head went rolling across the floor.

"See, isn't it easier?"


June 20, 1994

Amalthea and Walburga were having their usual tea time together. A small table was placed before Walburga's portrait, decorated with pastries and sweets. Amalthea sat at the edge, delicately sipping from her cup.

Walburga sighed as she sipped her tea inside the portrait, "It's a very nice day, wouldn't you agree Amalthea?" She placed her teacup back down on the saucer, looking at her grandmother with a polite smile, "It is. Maximillian has spent more time outside."

The elder witch managed a small chuckle, "He's much too old, I'm surprised he can fly." Amalthea gave a one-shouldered shrug, picking up a cookie from the tray, "I suppose it's pure stubbornness that keeps him young." And so continued the usual routine, mild conversations over tea and biscuits.

"Ugh, and I told Druella that sea blue is a terrible color on her. But she's so very sure that Cygnus would like it."

Amalthea nodded as she listened to her grandmother's stories, her attention occasionally drifting to other things. Walburga gave a snicker as she continued, "So, Druella decides to wear the ugly thing to our Aunt Cassiopeia's dinner. Aunt Cassiopeia was a spinster, so she naturally had a very sharp tongue. Women who grow without men typically do, as they prefer our tongues to be dulled."

She looked up to her grandmother's portrait with surprise, but Walburga ignored it, going back to her cheery tone, "So Aunt Cassiopeia gets a good look of Druella, and she says, 'Child-'"

Kreacher apparated into the hallway, holding a letter out to the girl's side, "Mistress. It's urgent." Amalthea quickly took it, picking up a butter knife to break the seal, "Terrible apologies, grandmother." Walburga waved it off, chuckling to herself, "No dear, I understand. Business is business, wherever you may be."

Kreacher prepared the parchment and quill as Amalthea read through the letter intensely. Once she finished, she took the parchment and quickly scribbled back a response. Walburga watched them both curiously, asking, "What is it, dear?"

"Oh, nothing, just Gringrotts requesting confirmation for a payment of an estate." Amalthea responded with ease, folding the letter and placing it in Kreacher's hand, "Be sure they receive it immediately." She gave him a quick smile before he apparated out.

"Now where were we?"

"Oh! So Aunt Cassiopeia takes one look at Druella, and she says-"

Kreacher sealed the letter with wax carefully before he took it over to a brightly colored bird. It was a scarlet macaw, and had a terrible temperament, nipping at his fingers. He avoided the snapping beak, shoving the letter in quickly, "Take this back to the Master." Once it had the letter secured, it took off out the window.


July 6, 1994

He never thought he would return here. He held the letter in his hands, trembling. What if this was some sort of trick? Why would Regulus invite him back? Was it even him? The letters were signed with the Lord Black's crest, so he had to assume it was his brother.

Watching the building grow before him, he took a deep breath, "Come on Pads, you can do this." He stepped towards the door, turning it slowly. When the dark aged wood creaked open, he waited a moment.

It was very late. He had to wait until midnight to move, in case anyone was watching. Stepping inside the hall, he shut the door carefully behind him. It was very quiet. He didn't remember it being this quiet when he lived here.

Walking in the halls, Sirius let out a chuckle, "Mother must have made everyone deaf." As the words left his mouth, the curtains to his right parted open, the visage of his mother terrifying him to his core.

"WATCH YOUR TONGUE, BOY!" Walburga shrieked, before she suddenly paused, looking at him surprised, "Wait..what are you doing here? You aren't meant to be here."

Sirius glared at her portrait, hissing back, "I would never come back here if you were still alive, you old bat! I'm here cause my brother asked for me!"

"THAT'S IMPOSSIBLE, YOU DARE SPOUT LIES IN MY HOME!?"

"I'M NOT LYING, YOU HAG!"

"YOU ARE STILL SUCH A TERRIBLE CHILD! SPEAKING TO YOUR MOTHER IN SUCH A WAY!"

Sirius felt his anger boil over, snapping back, "Then why am I here then!?"

"Excuse me?" A feminine voice came from the stairs.

Spinning around, he felt his breath catch as he saw the young girl approach. She had dark black ringlets that fell down her back, her eyes the same piercing grey as his own.

When she reached the final step, she held out her hand to him, the Black signet ring glinting from her thumb, "I've been expecting you, Uncle."