November 1, 1981

Sirius Black Incarcerated

1st November 1981

By Anderson Cronkite

Mass-murderer Sirius Black will not face trial after being found at a crime scene where approximately fourteen people were murdered. Among the victims was Peter Pettigrew, one of Black's former school mates at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

Whether this incident is tied to the events that occurred last summer at Fawley Estate, leaving Fawley Manor devastated, to which Black was centrally involved, is yet to be determined.

Black faces life imprisonment at Azkaban Wizarding Prison in response to this horrendous crime. Magical Law Enforcement and the Auror office are still investigating the events surrounding the crime and are not ruling out the possibility that this is linked to the recent fall of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, which occurred on the same night.

Black the Barbaric

1st November 1981

By Ruvea Skeeta

On a night that should have been a celebrated one world-wide following the fall of You-Know-Who, it will now forever be marred by the mass-murder of thirteen muggles and one wizard. The culprit, one Sirius Black, was arrested immediately following the attack by the Auror team.

Exact details are still yet to be determined, but having gained inside knowledge from a source within the Department of Magical Law Enforcement itself, it can now be said with some certainty that Sirius Black had been a member of You-Know-Who's inner circle. This may not be all that surprising considering the family's sordid history concerning the Dark Arts.

Black's rage may have been fuelled by the events that transpired just last year, or it may have been orchestrated by Black who we now know was conspiring with You-Know-Who. One thing is for certain, Sirius Black, considering all that he has done, and all the more that he might have been involved in doing, should never be allowed to see past the hood of a dementor again.

ooOOoo

Approximately Forty Years Earlier

Walburga Black knew a great many things. At least, of all the myriad of knowledge she thought she held on a myriad of subjects, the one thing she was absolutely sure of was that family was everything.

She'd grown up, visiting the house of her father's brother, of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black, staring up at the tapestry of their family tree in Uncle Arcturus' house. It sung to her, sung the names and dates woven into its fabric with the most beautiful and haunting melodies. She'd marvelled at it to such an extent that by the age of seven she could recite to you every name, describe every face. By her eighth birthday she had convinced her uncle to tell her about the names not on the tapestry, who were shown only with the memory of old flames. She quickly worked these names into her repertoire, sneering these new names while singing the others.

For the rest of her life, she would not be able to fathom how one could disgrace their family to such an extent that they would willingly remove themselves from that beautiful fabric.

In the fourth year of her Hogwarts education, they were faced with arguably one of the most terrifying creatures known to their world. She was anxious. To show weakness was a vulnerability she was not eager to expose. No one could quite understand why Eleanor Turpin's vampire, who had been forced to wear a rather ridiculously short frilly dress, suddenly burst into flames that scorched the air when it faced Walburga. From that moment on, Walburga swore to herself that she would never be the cause for another stain on her family's history. No, the only thing she would do, the only thing she was willing to do, was to help foster its growth.

The wedding to Orion was by no means a surprise. It had been arranged for years. Once they'd both graduated, there was no other course of action.

Orion was a cordial, dark-tempered man. His flame of fury was small but ever-present. His tenacity was one of quiet intimidation. It would do him well in the world of the Ministry. And paired with Walburga's own disposition, it would most certainly make for an interesting union.

The most beneficial result of her union to Orion was that now she would be able to gaze upon that which had captured her attention for as long as she was willing to remember. She could finally see it grow before her very eyes.

But it didn't.

After the first year, she was able to convince herself that it was normal for these things to take time. She was still young after all. If anyone were to ask, she and Orion were still firmly entrenched in the throes of being newly married.

After the second year, she told them that they were waiting for Orion to secure his position within the Ministry.

'We're rather eager to establish a position within the Wizengamot that will ensure future advantages for our children. I'm sure you understand, Aunt Cassiopeia.'

Orion rose to secure such a place in the Wizengamot much quicker than Walburga had anticipated. In relative terms, taking two years to achieve this feat was a rather impressive accomplishment. But by the fifth year, it was becoming harder to ignore the strain in her smile. And the whispers that had slowly started years previous, like the start of a breeze, had begun to crescendo, to a raging wind. They swept up, following her around ballrooms and formal dinners. They settled around her, chilling her and leaving her feeling as cold and empty as her much-discussed belly.

Orion was becoming increasingly less understanding on the matter. Never having been a particularly tender man to begin with, he was quickly becoming more demanding in ensuring the matter was resolved quickly.

One of the last conversations she had ever had with her mother before her passing served a stark reminder of that which Walburga was constantly reminded. The senior told her daughter that Orion had every right to be frustrated, and it was solely up to her, the matriarch of this noble house, to find a solution to what was fast becoming an embarrassing problem. And quickly.

The sixth year of marriage had her approaching obsession. It had her researching everything she could conceive of, enchantments, potions, poultices, fertility medallions, charms, spells. The whispers were howling winds. Orion's roughness spread throughout to the rest of the house and her mother was no longer there to motivate her when it was most needed.

By the seventh year, she was at her wits end. The tapestry had long since turned from singing to her, to hissing at her, to screaming after her every step.

She'd tried. She'd tried the potions, the poultices, the charms. None of them worked. None of them were going to work. Mother Magic had abandoned her. She wasn't just going to be the reason for another mark. She was going to be the reason it ended.

It had been eight years. Eight years since her plight had begun. The whispers had long since become a raging storm. She had long since removed herself from its eye, taking shelter in the place that had come to resent her presence. There were few who were not part of that storm, who had not revelled in her withdrawal. So, when she was asked round for tea by one whom she could still call friend, she acted without hesitation.

'I just had to tell you, as soon as I heard,' she had told Walburga, tea freshly made but quickly forgotten on the sitting room table. Leaning ever so slightly forward, voice lowering to a fevered simmer, 'I have heard of somewhere you might be able to go to address your . . . ongoing complications.'

Walburga stamped the quelling anticipation that grew in her belly. She had long since learnt not to let her hopes raise too high.

Not many people realised that even within Pureblood society, there were certain circles which were best avoided. The Black's dalliances with the Dark Arts were not ones that were hidden. Amongst themselves, to be a member of the sacred twenty-eight was to be synonymous with more . . . questionable tastes. However, there were facets of the Dark Arts that offered more risks to the apparent awards they brought.

Walburga knew this. She had spent a lifetime knowing this. Appearances were the most important thing to be upheld in their realm of existence. To jeopardise that was to truly risk losing more than your life, it would risk yourself.

Walburga knew this. So, as she walked further into the depths of Knockturn Alley, clutching at the small bit of parchment that held the details of her venture, she made sure the hood of her heavy travelling cloak was drawn and fastened. She kept her head down, not allowing herself a moment's hesitation as she entered the small shop at the far end of the alley.

ooOOoo

November 3, 1959

She thought she'd prepared enough. She thought she'd prepared for the discomfort, the waiting, the pain.

How wrong she had been.

The discomfort agitated her to the point where standing still was intolerable. The waiting had her believing that she'd been with child for nine years. The pain – that was what had caught her most by surprise. She was no stranger to pain, but this was a different beast.

She had no idea how long the entire process took in the end. She just wanted it to be over. She wanted it all to be over. And as the pain gave way, and the sound of cries filled the room, she thought it was over, finally, mercifully.

That was until, 'I-It's a, it's a girl, milady.'

Her fatigue stumbled. Rage scorched it away from her body as Walburga found the young healer who has spoken. She knelt at the foot of the bed, holding the small, wriggling thing, who was almost completely forgotten in the girl's arms as the worst was anticipated.

But whatever retribution was about to befall the poor girl, was replaced with a loud shrieking cry.

The pain had returned, an inferno's answer to a flame.

Another ten minutes agony and the pain abated, replaced by –

'It's a boy, milady!'

In the wake of the exhaustion, the frustration, the desperate, unrelenting agony of the past eight years, all Walburga could do was fall back into it all, staring unseeingly into the abyss before her.

Please, let that be the last of it.


For those of you who have been following me for the last couple of years, no doubt you're probably getting a little annoyed with how much I keep re-working this story. Please accept my apologies, but with any luck, this will be the version that sticks!

For those who are stumbling upon this for the first time, this story started as a one-shot over two years ago. Since then it's morphed into something much larger than it was ever meant to be. It's become my number one pet project, but I've never really sat down and worked out a solid plot line and character arc for it. I've spent the last couple of months doing just that and I think I've worked out all the issues I was having in the previous versions.

I really want to see this thing through to the end (I've had the ending written for years and I can't wait for the day to share it) and I hope the effort I've put into it will pay off (I'll let you be the judge of that, however). I'm hesitant to commit to a weekly update schedule, but I'm going to try to make it every Monday (I'm in Australia by the way, so for some of you this will mean updates come out on Sunday).

Lastly before I end this ridiculously long intro, please feel free to leave feedback. Reviews are such powerful motivators and I welcome any kind of feedback, so please don't be shy.

Okay, that's it from me. Thanks in advance and I hope you like it!