Hi fellow readers! This is mostly a collection of what-ifs and what-nots! These might not entirely line up with canon or your preferred version of the Harry Potter storyline, and some may, I might add, blatantly ignore the storyline for the sake of the story, but I will ensure that each one is just as interesting as the last!

This was originally posted in my old account, MoaMarauder, but I seem to have lost the account (and tragically, all my drafts), so I will repost the ones I do have here and continue them through this account.

Disclaimer: If I were J.K.Rowling, the cursed child would not have gone the way it did. Maybe (probably) wouldn't even happen. There would also be a novel on the Marauders though...

Walburga Black

Walburga Black was insane. Of course, she was insane, as she was of the Most Noble, Ancient House of Black. But to her children, she was a mother. She sang them to sleep and dressed them in all the most expensive clothes. She would smile when the brothers got along and sleep in her lap, as she ruffled their hair and sang to them. She was a mother, until she saw.

Until she saw the terrors of what defying the Dark Lord could do. The way the defiers writhed and screamed under the Dark Lord's foot was enough for her to make up her mind: The mere prospect of her children perhaps screwing up and getting crucioed was enough of an incentive to push them away. To keep, and hold them at a distance. She'll explain when they're older, but they need to start training and get away from danger now. Now before her darling Sirius goes to school with the other Slytherin boys. Now before they're old enough to be raised as pigs to slaughter for the Dark Lord. One day, her Sirius and Regulus will bring honor to their House and to her, their mother. They will understand why their mother, who cruelly punished and pushed them away, did what she did. Once they win the war against those filthy mudbloods, she decided, she'll dote on them endlessly again.

But it was too late. One night, everything unraveled. Secrets were spilled, trust was shattered, and she became a mother who had lost her child. Her facade was ephemeral. No one could tell that she was grieving, beneath her stoic mask of anger. She was grieving the loss of her Sirius, as he was all but dead to them now. (A little part of her was glad, though she refused to accept it—glad that her baby was away from this side of the war.) Walburga was insane, yes, but she was also a woman who had lost her firstborn son.

Walburga swore to protect her Regulus. She can't lose another - do you see–do you understand? She can't, she can't, she can't. So she doted on her son, so he would know how loved he and his brother were to be her children. But why was he so secretive? And when is he coming home? He left for long stretches of time, each longer than the last, until he never came home. Even Kreacher didn't know.

She couldn't bear the pain. the pain of losing another of her children, of losing the only one she had left. The pain ringing in her head that told her what to do next. "Bombarda" she whispered, the tip of her wand digging into her skull.

When Walburga Black saw her child, years later--good lord, what happened to her baby--walk into the house, back to their house again, she was elated. Although now reduced to being a mere painting, she couldn't help the motherly love that burst at the seams at seeing her son. But when she saw those filthy, filthy mudbloods and mudblood lovers walk in behind her son? All she felt was unadulterated hatred. T'was nothing but the scum she had to lose her children to.

So she screamed. She screamed about getting rid of them, screamed that the mudblood lovers were traitors, screamed her agony for her children. She became known for those screams, yet she was an empty shell who wanted a rest. So when the house crumbled down, she cried. She cried tears of relief that it was finally over. She was broken, yet she could pass on.

Walburga is a woman who loved her children more than life itself. One day, she will see her children and tell them how proud she was of them. One day, she prayed they would understand that she was just being a mother.