A few months had passed since Marguerith and Pericles' wedding in early 1952. From that day on, only Sirius, Hesper, and the house elves lived in Grimmauld Place. Even though Regulus wasn't married yet, he rarely stayed with his parents, even when visiting England. Therefore, accustomed to that almost solitary routine, the patriarch was surprised to find the elder twin in the house's library.

"Betelgeuse, what are you doing here?" Sirius asked as he served himself a generous dose of Firewhisky.

The young woman observed her uncle with a smile on her lips. She knew they were the only ones in the house. It was the day of the week when her aunt Hesper usually visited Lucretia.

"I arrived from Moscow today and decided to revisit my old home and my dear uncle," she replied, her voice soft and measured.

Sirius simply nodded, opening the cabinet and pulling out the chessboard.

"A game?" he asked, taking another sip of Firewhisky.

"Always," she replied, sitting in front of her uncle as he set up the pieces on the board.

"I suppose you'll want to play with the white pieces now that you're an Ivory," the man joked.

Betelgeuse chuckled quietly.

"And black pieces for Mr. Black—it does seem fitting," she replied with good humor.

Betelgeuse moved the first piece without taking her eyes off her uncle. She almost missed those games, if not for the fact that Stephanio was an even better chess player than Sirius.

"How's married life?" he asked, moving his knight.

The young woman leaned forward, studying the board before making her next move.

"Wonderful. Though some of Stephanio's relatives don't like me simply because I'm not Russian. But my husband, he's marvelous. I'm sure he would die for me..."

"And kill for me," she thought to herself, satisfied. It was strange and thrilling to realize that she and Stephanio complemented each other in ways she had never imagined before. She loved him with the same intensity.

"Do you know who's been visiting me?" Bete asked nonchalantly, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "Uncle Hebert. He had business there. Someone wanted to sell a Dibbuk box, and he thought it would be a good addition to the shop."

Sirius nodded. Sometimes his brother-in-law traveled abroad to buy some artifacts, but he had never shown interest in the twins to the point of wanting to visit either of them.

"What did the old man really want?" Black asked, curious.

"He managed to get into debt over a card game. By chance, they were Stephanio's relatives. Uncle Hebert thought we could help," she laughed at the irony of the situation—how the man who always despised her had come crawling for mercy. "But to my surprise, he had something truly valuable to offer me in return."

She moved her queen before glancing at the watch on her wrist. She raised her eyes and noticed her uncle's complexion had gone pale. Beads of sweat were rolling down his forehead. He started loosening his collar, struggling to breathe. It had started right on schedule.

"Uncle Hebert told me how you cursed my mother. How she died because of what you did!" Betelgeuse spoke, icy hatred dripping from every word.

Sirius collapsed to the floor, gasping. It felt as though an invisible hand was squeezing his throat. He heard the heels of his niece echoing through the study as she approached him. Even with blurry vision, he could see her silhouette kneeling beside him.

"You must have imagined my disappointment when I learned the truth," Bete spoke calmly. "I loved you as if you were my own father. But my mother deserves justice."

Bete stood up, picking up the black king from the board, twirling it between her fingers. Sirius's face was turning purple, his eyes filled with tears.

"The Ivory family has an unimaginable collection of poisons. Stephanio introduced me to a magnificent variation of aqua tofana. Completely undetectable. And he helped me get to London without anyone knowing. It was very easy to add a dose to your Firewhisky."

Betelgeuse kept a neutral expression as her uncle writhed on the floor. She had been sincere when she said she had loved Sirius, but she would never forgive anyone who hurt her mother or her sister.

"You can go peacefully. I won't tell Aunt Hesper or Marge what you did. I don't want my sister getting any wrong ideas, like maybe going back to Alphard after securing a good marriage."

The old Black's eyes had already turned empty and distant. It didn't take long before he took his final breath under his niece's stern gaze.

With a few waves of her wand, the young woman eliminated any trace of her presence there.

She placed the black king into the pocket of her dress, murmuring as she left:

"Checkmate."

Marguerith looked at the figure of Sirius Black lying in his coffin. For the last time. If it weren't for the coffin, one might think the man was merely in a deep sleep.

The room was full, giving the impression that all of London had come to pay their final respects to the deceased—or at least the members of the important families in wizarding society.

Some approached Sirius's body, murmuring farewells or perhaps casting a final curse to be fulfilled in the realm of the dead.

Others headed to the adjacent room, where food, tea, and stronger drinks were being served.

Marguerith sighed quietly. It was true that Sirius Black was older than her aunt Hesper, but even so, the man had always seemed to her as though he would be immortal.

Belvina, Sirius's younger sister, was standing by the threshold, being consoled by her eldest son. Meanwhile, Hesper sat next to her husband, bidding her final farewell. The woman's violet eyes were slightly unfocused. She had shared a lifetime with that man, without love but full of complicity. Now she was free, and she still didn't know how to feel about it.

For her part, Marguerith hadn't shed a single tear. Wasn't that what was expected of a Black? Discretion and composure?

She remembered the tears when her father died, back when she was still a child. But the caring figure of Phineas was a blur in the mist of her memories. She also recalled crying when her mother left, shortly after Marge had entered Hogwarts.

As for the family patriarch, even in her silence, she suffered. She mourned the loss of an uncle who had always been so close and yet so distant and unreachable.

Sirius Black was someone she admired for his serious and tradition-bound stance, but at the same time, she resented him for those very same reasons.

For most of her life, she had done exactly what he demanded, hoping in return for something that would be the shadow of affection. She had even married someone chosen by Sirius.

However, no effort was ever enough. He never made her feel fully deserving.

The closest he came was a smile he gave her on the day of her wedding.

A strong breeze blew over Marguerith's shoulders, ruffling her hair. She quickly straightened it, also noticing with the gesture that a candle had gone out with the wind. An anxiety welled up in her chest. There always had to be a candle lit.

Hurriedly, though discreetly, she approached the candle, her hands trembling as she held her wand. It was then that Marguerith felt a hand rest gently on her shoulder. Standing next to her was Betelgeuse, who had come from Russia to pay her final respects to the man. She didn't meet her sister's gaze; instead, her blue eyes were fixed on the extinguished candle.

Marge understood, as always, what that silence meant. She finally managed to light the candle. The flame flickered back to life in the room, resuming its role in the funeral rite.

Bete let her hand slip down the sleeve of Marguerith's dress, searching for her sister's hand, intertwining her fingers with hers. Marge said nothing.

The dialogue between them had always transcended words. Just the comforting presence of her sister made Marge feel a little better.

Though she envied Betelgeuse's position in their uncle's heart—always the favorite, always the one who achieved the greatest feats—Marguerith couldn't hate her. It was like hating herself. They were part of each other, always. And nothing, not their respective marriages or the geographical distance, could destroy that.

"Aunt?" Marguerith called softly, noticing that Hesper's eyes were fixed on the Black family tapestry. "Are you alright?"

The matriarch nodded, a pale smile on her face. She imagined that her brief absence from the funeral would go unnoticed.

"Yes, Marge, I'm alright… as well as can be. I was just pondering my future from now on… It may seem too soon—we haven't even buried Sirius yet—but the truth is I've been thinking for many years about what would become of me when he was no longer by my side… I just haven't decided which path to take."

Marge left the doorway, stopping beside Hesper, taking the woman's hand and intertwining it with hers. When Rosette died, her aunt had become her rock, her safe harbor. She had always felt closer to her than to her late uncle. She wanted to be a comfort to her too.

"Are you suffering?" she asked, more directly than etiquette would recommend, but frank as she had always been in her relationship with Hesper.

The Black matriarch shook her head.

"My life with your uncle had good moments, I can't complain. However, now, I feel free and even relieved. Would you blame me for that, my dear?"

The younger one squeezed her aunt's hand a little tighter, trying to be supportive. Why would Marge judge Hesper? She knew that the world the older woman had grown up in was different from hers. Women had even fewer choices than they did now. What could Hesper have done if not obey her father? There were other paths, of course, but the Gamps had raised their daughter to be what she became, and it was unlikely that a fourteen-year-old girl immersed in that elite wizarding world would think she could follow another destiny.

"Never, aunt," Marge replied sincerely.

Marguerith's eyes landed on the name on the tapestry that Hesper was staring at intently: Lycoris. It was always her. The memory of her daughter seemed to still haunt the woman after all these years. Noticing that her niece was also observing the family tree, the matriarch placed her finger on a spot just below her daughter's name.

"It's almost imperceptible, but there's a small burn mark here..." Hesper spoke with melancholy. "Your uncle did it, right after Lys abandoned us. No child of hers would ever make it to the tapestry, so much so that many in the family think she never had children. I couldn't see my daughter again until the day Sirius died. I have grandchildren I've never met, that I've never been able to embrace."

Marguerith remained silent. Although she and Betelgeuse knew Lycoris' story, despite the taboo surrounding their cousin's name in the family, Hesper had never made it so explicit before how much she missed her daughter.

"Bete is happy with Stephanio, and you seem content with Pericles. I believe I've kept the promise I made to your mother. I think it's time to go to America, to finally meet another part of my family."

"I'll miss you," Marguerith said sincerely.

She loved Hesper. Perhaps, besides Betelgeuse, her aunt was the only person in the family with whom Marguerith could let her guard down and allow herself to show genuine emotion without seeming weak, without being reminded that she was "the bastard," "the intruder." Marge was proud to be a Black, but she knew what some uncles and cousins thought of her and her sister. They could all go to hell. Her blood was the same as theirs. Despite not showing much affection, the great Sirius Black had recognized her as one of them, and absolutely no one could take that away from Marguerith.

"I'll miss you too," Hesper replied, full of affection.

The woman wished from the bottom of her heart that her nieces would find joy along their paths. However, she needed to distance herself from the girls she had raised as if they were her own daughters to finally reunite with the other daughter who had been denied to her all those years.