She had been forcibly led into a sitting room that seemed straight out of her mum's favourite Tudor TV show, still wearing nothing but her flimsy pyjamas. Tears streamed down her cheeks uncontrollably as the imposing woman scowled at Hermione.

"You're a Black; don't bring disgrace to this noble house with your incessant crying," the woman snapped.

Hermione whimpered, the fire at the back of the room doing little to warm her shivering form. She had endured what felt like hours of scolding from the two of them, seemingly unfazed by the fact that they had just snatched a child from her home. Fear continued to swell in Hermione's heart with every word they uttered.

"Please, just let me go. I need to know if my parents are –" Before she could finish her plea, the haughty woman sitting across from her abruptly sat up and pointed her wand at the distraught girl.

"Don't you dare call those Muggles your family; you should consider yourself fortunate that we've reclaimed you after so many years among those filthy creatures!" She exclaimed, her anger unabated.

"Walburga, please, she's clearly distressed," the house's patriarch interjected, his voice a calming presence. "Let Kreacher escort her to Regulus' old room for now. We can resume our discussion tomorrow." Hermione observed as Mrs Black took a couple of deep breaths before reluctantly nodding in agreement.

"Very well. What more can we expect from someone raised by Muggles…" She muttered bitterly before addressing the house elf. "Kreacher!"

Hermione couldn't stifle a startled yelp as the house elf materialized next to his mistress. Every muscle in her body ached, but the fear of remaining in the company of these intimidating figures kept her from surrendering to exhaustion. With a subtle turn of her head towards the door, she pondered whether she could reach it in time to call for help. But when she glanced back at her two captors, she found the elder Black's calculating gaze fixed on her.

"Take Hermione up to Regulus' room and lock the door. We can't afford her following in her father's footsteps," he ordered, the house elf staring at Hermione with wide eyes, a hint of awe in his wrinkled features.

"Kreacher will ensure Miss Hermione stays in Master Regulus' room," the creature affirmed.

Frozen in fear, Hermione felt the bony hands grab her wrist. A familiar wave of nausea washed over her, and suddenly, she found herself standing in a dimly lit room, the house elf from before nowhere in sight.

"How... This has to be a dream; I need to wake up," she whispered desperately, then lunged toward the tall door, feverishly yanking on the golden handle. When it refused to budge, her frustration erupted into a desperate yell, and she began pounding her bruised knuckles against the unyielding wood.

"Please let me out! I beg you, please, I just want to go home!" Her pleas echoed in the silence, but they were met with no response. After a while, her throat burned from the exasperated cries for help, and all remaining strength seemed to drain from her body. Slumping down onto the cold floor, fresh tears blurred her vision.

With her consciousness slipping away, Hermione rested her head against the weathered door, surrendering to her exhaustion. In a matter of moments, she had fallen into a restless slumber on the faded rug...

Downstairs, Arcturus Black savoured another sip of his fire whiskey, relishing the silence that had descended after the girl had finally ceased her yelling. His daughter-in-law halted her agitated pacing, and he observed her as she pinched the bridge of her nose to regain her composure.

"She's got fire. We must tread carefully, or we'll be facing another Sirius," he remarked to the dark-haired witch.

"I was far too lenient with that boy, given that he was my first," Mrs Black hissed.

Arcturus studied her for a few moments before giving a nod of approval. "Do not disappoint me again, Walburga."

Standing a few feet from his seat, the woman nodded solemnly, the flickering fire in the room casting eerie shadows on her gaunt features. "What about my worthless son? Perhaps ten years in that wretched prison have brought some sense back into him."

Arcturus set his glass aside and interlaced his fingers thoughtfully. "No, he will take her with him and ruin her, much like Andromeda did with her own daughter."

Walburga's expression twisted at the mention of her grandniece's name. "The Ministry might grant him custody if he ever gets out; he is, after all, her father," she murmured darkly, gazing into the dying embers in the grand fireplace across the room.

Arcturus sat up. "For now, we shall raise her." After all those years of believing that the name of the noblest and most ancient House of Black would perish with his grandson, the girl had come as their salvation, and he was determined not to let this opportunity slip through his fingers…