So here is Chapter 1 of Walburga's life. Yes, I know that it's not the most exciting thing ever, seeing that she's very young, but I tried to make it as good as I could. Hope you enjoy. All feedback is highly appreciated. So I have been doing a lot of research into the Black family for this fanfiction, and that includes studying the family tree. I did notice that on the family tree made by J.K. Rowling (who owns all of this; I am just an admirer who writes stories about her world for fun) Pollux, Walburga's father, appears to be 13 years old at the time that she is born, and Cygnus, Walburga's brother, also appears to be 13 years old at the time that his oldest daughter Bellatrix is born. I am not sure if Rowling intended it to be that way or if it was an error, but for the purpose of this story I am going to use it.

Chapter 1

Walburga had always felt the pressure to be a good Black. With the scandal that was her birth, being the child of third year Pollux Black and fifth year Irma Crabbe, there had always been an unspoken need for her to prove herself. To prove herself as something more than the product of a thoughtless, lustful night shared between two young Slytherin students.

To prove herself as worthy of the Black name, a name given to her shortly after her birth when, after the initial shock of it all wore off, it was decided upon that despite the circumstance, Pollux had upheld the Black family motto, Toujours Pur. And so Pollux and Irma were wedded on paper and Walburga was added on to the family tree of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black.

It was a rather hushed up affair, one of the many that clouded the history of the Black family. When it became known that Irma, now carrying the surname Black, was permanently dropping out of school to care for her infant daughter, it was speculated by the general public that it had been an arranged marriage and a fine example of how insanely obsessed the old Pureblood families were with procreating Pureblood heirs.

Though that was a far cry from what had actually happened, the Black family said nothing, partly because they would never want to admit to keeping careful tabs on all the gossip in the wizarding world -even if it came from the mouths of Mudbloods- and partly because the truth was just much worse, at least in their opinion.

Needless to say, Walburga saw very little of her father in the first few years of her life, namely because he was always at Hogwarts, finishing the remaining four years of education he had left. She really didn't remember much from those early years, only some brief memories of hectic screaming as an exasperated Irma tried several methods -some of which were more than questionable- to keep her extremely energetic and vocal daughter calm. Much of those first years of Walburga's life were spent at Crabbe Manor, where Irma's mother, Alarice, was Lady of the House.

Though Alarice Crabbe was an intimidating woman, it wasn't a particular family quality, like the dark and cold beauty that seemed to shroud all the members of the Black family, but more of an air that Alarice and only Alarice herself possessed. While Irma herself was more sensitive, Alarice was a no-nonsense woman who always saw things for exactly what they were. Looking back, Walburga was sure that her grandmother would have made an excellent Black.

Though Alarice was the mother of three, Irma being the youngest by far, she wasn't particularly gifted at being a caretaker. Nonetheless, her emotional stability proved to be useful at the times when Irma had nervous breakdowns, and from the start Walburga had grown to rely on her grandmother as the rock of her life, a role that Irma was just not capable of fulfilling (and never would be).

For the first four year of Walburga's life, Irma, Alarice, and Crabbe Manor had been all she knew. Every Christmas and summer, Irma would take her to Black Manor, where she was constantly thrust into the arms of a young man who everyone told her was her "fa-ther" (not that Walburga understood the meaning of the word at the time) but otherwise largely ignored by said "fa-ther" and the rest of the people there (who Walburga did not recognize as family yet). However, those twice-a-year events played no significant role in Walburga's life, and in her young mind she assumed that they never would. Until the day came that Pollux Black graduated from Hogwarts

"Toujours Pur", her mother whispered in her ear as they prepared to depart Crabbe Manor, this time with no intentions of returning other than for perhaps a short visit. "Toujours Pur".

Walburga looked up at her mother in confusion, small brow crinkling. "Toujours Pur?" she repeated, botching the French pronunciation but saying it clearly enough that it was recognizable. It was the first of many, many times that those words left Walburga's lips.

Irma nodded. The moment didn't last long, seeing that Walburga got distracted easily enough being the small child that she was, and it caused her to altogether miss the following interaction between her mother and grandmother. Alarice, who had been standing in the doorway and had heard the entire exchange, was wearing an odd expression on her face. Irma caught her eye, begging her mother not to say anything. Alarice just raised an eyebrow.

"Do you fear the House of Black?" she asked in a hushed whisper. Irma remained silent, but her quick, nervous glance at Walburga was enough. Alarice smirked.

"Good," she whispered. "You should be. I never said anything when all this happened, I just let you come home and raise your child without a word. But now I'm warning you. Toujours Pur, the complete and utter madness that comes with it, that I have seen in generations of that family... it will consume you, Irma. It will consume you, and it will also consume your daughter until the only thing in the world that is important to her is that."

"I am proud that my daughter is of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black," Irma choked. "And how dare you speak poorly of it; I have heard you yourself speak of blood supremacy countless times. You taught me it!"

"Of course I taught you it; we are Crabbes," Alarice hissed. "I do not question your so called husband or his family's beliefs. But I do question the fineness of the line that divides belief and insanity in that family."

Irma sputtered, before whipping around and roughly grabbing her trunk of belongings and her daughter's hand, and Disapparating with a definite crack. Walburga was screaming when the two Apparated in front of Black Manor; she had never Side-Along Apparated before (it was indeed highly unrecommended for young children) and she had had no warning; if not for Irma's burst of anger and rash decision, the two would have taken the Floo as always.

Though Irma had dropped out of school before she was due to learn Apparition, she had still learned and taken the test when the turned seventeen, two years ago. Now, she was immensely grateful that she had; it had proved to be a good means of escape form the conversation that she did not want to have. Ironically, it had been Alarice that had pushed her to go and learn Apparition in the first place.

Though it had been a good getaway, Irma was now left standing in front of her in-law's Manor trying desperately to quiet her daughter. Walburga, however, was having none of it. After being pressed hard from all directions to the point that she just couldn't breathe and could only hang onto her mother's arm for dear life, suddenly being dropped back into the normal world where she could breathe and move and think brought with it an onslaught of tears and screams. After first trying to gather her daughter into her arms to soothingly hush her but being pushed away, Irma finally gave in to her frustrations and gave Walburga a soft yet sharp slap across the cheek.

"Be quiet, Walburga Black!" She spat. "I don't need you acting like this in front of your family. Quiet, I said."

Irma drew her wand and pointed it threateningly at her. Though she had never actually done anything with it to the young girl, Walburga seemed to sense the power behind the harmless looking object and immediately fell silent. Irma smiled. "Good girl. Now remember. Toujours Pur," she purred. This time, Walburga didn't repeat it, and only stared at her mother. Irma sighed, and took her daughter's hand, this time much gentler than she had at Crabbe Manor, mere minutes ago. Walburga, however, withdrew her hand with a look of fear.

"Oh, silly, we're not going to Apparate again," Irma cooed, realizing what the problem was. She smiled gently -a real, genuine smile that reached her eyes- and grabbed her daughter's hand again, only to pull back moments later when she felt a sharp shock upon contact with the skin.

It was Walburga's first sign of magic. And it broke Irma's heart.

"I'm sorry," the young, nineteen-year-old witch choked. "Merlin, I'm so sorry." Taking a moment to compose herself, she cleared her throat and pointed to Black Manor, a dark, ominous shadow looming ahead. "Let's go."

Her daughter nodded, and, with a lack of contact that Irma felt keenly, they walked up to the great doors of the Manor together.

Walburga wasn't old enough to notice that Irma was shaking the entire way.