Prologue
A sharp newborn cry broke the silence at number 12, Grimmauld Place. It was a cloudy night, the velvet sky dark blue, it's stars barely visible. As the newborn continued crying, the clock downstairs hit 00:00. Welcome, May 2nd, 1925.
Pollux Black stood in the doorway, his stern expression betraying neither joy nor relief. He observed the scene with the detached air of a man inspecting an heirloom.
"It's a girl" the midwife murmured, her voice low and deferential, already knowing what was coming. Irma Crabbe Black's pale but triumphant expression quickly faded away. In the four-poster bed, her eyes already fixed on the bundle in the nurse’s arms.
Pollux stepped closer, his sharp features illuminated by the flickering light of the fireplace. He peered down at the infant, wrapped tightly in a black wool blanket embroidered with the family crest. A thin wail escaped her lips, but even that sounded commanding, resolute.
"She will be called Walburga" he declared, his tone leaving no room for argument "And she will be the heir, I won't take no for an answer"
Irma blinked, a flicker of confusion crossing her face. A break from tradition? It was unheard of, and yet she said nothing. She knew better than to question her husband’s decisions, especially in matters of the family’s future.
"A name fitting for one who will carry our family’s strength" Pollux continued, his gaze as cold and distant as the stars "She will do us proud"
In that moment, the weight of the Black family name settled on tiny Walburga’s shoulders, a burden she would carry all her life. In that moment, that cloudy night of May 1st 1925, the beginning of the end of the Most Noble and Ancient House of Black was born.