Toujours Pur

"It just is not fair." Walburga said again, crossing her arms over her chest and hating herself for it. Showing anger was weakness, and weakness was unacceptable. She shouldn’t feel this way, she shouldn’t let herself feel anything at all. But, really, what was she meant to do? How could they expect her to be the perfect heir when they were having secret meetings without her? She was missing on all the important information. How dare they shut her out? She was not some foolish child to be coddled, she was the heir. This was her family, her future, their whispers behind closed doors felt like a slap in the face. They thought she couldn't understand, but she understood more than they realized. But then again. Why couldn't she just accept it, move on, and wait patiently to be included? It was what she was meant to do. Blacks followed the rules. They did not question, they did not complain. Why couldn't she simply do as she was meant to?

Lucretia's glossy black shoes clicked against the marble floor as she followed her, her steps slow, deliberate. Walburga knew her cousin, so she also knew Lucretia was dying to learn everything that was going on inside the drawing room too. She just was better at hiding it, as should Walburga. Was she not the heir, after all?

"You are not the heir yet." Lucretia said, as if she could read her thoughts. Walburga turned and glared at her. Lucretia gave her a small, soft smile, lifting her arms slightly in mock surrender. Her gray eyes pierced Walburga, and there was some mischief in them, which was rare for Lucretia. "You know what I mean. Your father is now the Head of House, and he just started. You are seven, Wal. It's your turn to wait and prepare."

Walburga clenched her fists, but she quickly took a deep breath and loosened them up. What was she doing? A true Black did not sulk like a scolded house-elf. Why was she letting herself fume like that? It was disgraceful. "I do not need to prepare. I was born ready. Seven is enough. Old enough to understand important matters. Old enough to listen and learn. I will be the head of this family one day. How can I be ready if no one tells me anything?"

Lucretia’s light eyes, so like her father’s, studied her cousin for a long moment. Then she shrugged, her pale fingers brushing a strand of curly dark brown hair away from her face. "Come on," she said, motioning toward the garden. "you will only make yourself angrier standing there. We will talk outside."

Walburga hesitated for a second, then nodded. Together, the two girls pushed open the heavy doors that linked Grimmauld Place to its back garden, which wasn't the most well-cared one. It was small, wild and overgrown, with tall, imposing stone walls, full of ivy.
Lucretia and Walburga walked down the narrow stone path, their hairs blowing gently with the cold English wind. It was a gray day, a bit darker than Lucretia's eyes. Walburga's navy dress and Lucretia's dark emerald green one barely stood out.
Walburga kicked a rock. Why did the adults have to have secret meetings? What were they even talking about? Even Dorea, Walburga's aunt, who was barely twelve was in the meeting. This had to be a joke. Why, why on earth was Dorea, who was only five years older than Walburga and wasn't the heir invited to the meeting and Walburga wasn't? And why was she so incredibly pissed? Okay, she had not been invited. Ackwowledge it, move on. But she couldn't. She felt like a failure.

Walburga breathed in the cold winter air, looked at Lucretia, who apparently was watching birds fly above them, and decided that she was mad because she was heir, so she was meant to know. Normal Black rules did not apply the same to heirs, after all, all rules had their exceptions. So she was mad because the lack of knowledge was keeping her from doing her best job as heir. Brilliant, she could live with that.

Lucretia suddenly stopped by a patch of dark red roses, brushing her fingers slightly over them.

Walburga watched her for a few seconds. Then, she couldn't help how her gaze quickly focused on one of the windows of the bottom floor of the house, which she knew for a fact was the drawing room. The curtains were closed.

"What even are they talking about?" Walburga sighed.

Lucretia coughed a bit. Walburga immediately turned to her, but her cousin quickly averted her eyes.

"What?" Walburga said, grabbing Lucretia by the arm, her eyes opened big "What do you know, Lu?"

"Nothing." Came Lucretia's pained response, like a blown out breath, still looking everywhere except at Walburga.

"You must tell me, Lucretia." Walburga insisted, gripping her arm harder and moving it a bit. Please, please, she had to know.

"No." Lucretia said, this time more firmly and looking at her, making Walburga drop her hand. "I wasn't meant to hear that conversation, it was bad of me. Blacks do not eavesdrop. Blacks do not gossip either, so I will not be telling you."

Walburga felt silent. She hated to admit it, but her cousin was right. Blacks in fact did not gossip, and it had been bad of Lucretia to eavesdrop, and it would be even worse of Walburga to want to know from an eavesdropper. But she had just established that heirs had exceptions, right?

"Come on, Lu." She said, carefully placing a hand on her cousin's shoulder, "If I’m going to lead one day, they have to trust me with this. How can I protect the family if I don’t even know what’s happening now?" Walburga also knew Lucretia's thrist for knowledge, so maybe she could use that in her favour "Don’t you want to understand everything, Lucretia? If you tell me what you heard, we can figure it out together. Don’t you ever wonder why the adults always keep secrets from us? You’re clever, Lucretia, and I’m not afraid of anything. If we do not learn by ourselves, how are we going to know? If you tell me this, next time I hear something, I will tell you, and we will both be informed." At this, Lucretia slowly looked at her, with big innocent eyes. Was that fear in there too? Walburga did not know for certain, but she did not like it. Blacks did not show emotions.

Lucretia slowly nodded, and Walburga felt utterly triumphant. She ushered her cousin into a stone bench near the roses.

Lucretia took a deep breath, her hands in her lap, fiddling. "I overheard Mother and Father talking a few days ago" She said, in such a low whisper, Walburga had to lean in a bit to hear. "It was about Grindelwald."

Walburga instantly pulled away, surprised. Gellert Grindelwald? He was supposed to be one of the most dangerous wizards alive. Adults talked about him in whispers, like he was something too scary to say out loud. They said he was really powerful, even more than Albus Dumbledore, and that he had loads of followers who believed in his ideas about wizards being better than everyone else.

Lots of people were scared of him, but there were also some who thought he was right.
Walburga knew for a fact the Blacks were among this last category, since Father and Mother had talked about it multiple times lately over dinner. So what else was there to talk about?

"They said he’s growing more powerful. That he’s got followers all across Europe." Lucretia suddenly said.

"Good." Walburga said immediately. "He is doing what no one else dares to do. Wizards should be in charge. We are superior, and everyone knows it. What else did they say?"

Lucretia tilted her head, her expression thoughtful. "Father said Grandfather Sirius spoke to your Grandfather Cygnus about it. Grandfather Cygnus thinks Grindelwald is…what did he say?" She paused, searching for the right word. "...Right. A visionary. Someone who understands that wizards have been hiding for too long. But…"

Walburga’s eyes narrowed. "But what?" She demanded.

"But Grindelwald’s not focusing on Britain." Lucretia said quietly. "He is more interested in the continent. Father says we shouldn’t get involved. Not yet. It might… upset things with the Ministry."

Walburga stopped moving, her small hands gripping the sides of her dress. "Upset the Ministry?" She repeated, incredulous. "Who cares about the Ministry? They are a pack of fools, always bowing and scraping to Muggles. If Grindelwald wants to put them in their place, we should be helping him, not waiting around like cowards."

Lucretia’s expression didn’t change. "Father says it is better to wait." She said. "To see how things turn out. He thinks Grindelwald might win, but he does not want to take risks yet. He is always saying the Blacks must think ahead. Protect our legacy."

Walburga’s lips pressed into a thin line. "Protecting our legacy means taking action." She said firmly. "If we wait too long, we will look weak. We should be leading, not following."

Before Lucretia could respond, a high-pitched voice interrupted them.

"What are you talking about?"

Both girls turned to see Alphard and Orion standing at the edge of the path. Alphard, five years old and always grinning mischievously, had a smudge of dirt on his cheek. Orion, only three, clutched a toy broomstick in his chubby hands.

"Nothing that concerns you." Walburga said sharply. "Go back inside."

Alphard crossed his arms. "Why can’t we stay?" He asked, his grin widening. "You are just talking about boring stuff."

Walburga’s glare could have withered the garden’s roses. "Go away, Alphard." She said. "Or I’ll tell Mother you’ve been playing in the dirt again."

Alphard stuck out his tongue but grabbed Orion’s hand and trudged back toward the house. Orion looked over his shoulder, his big gray eyes curious, but a sharp look from Walburga sent him scurrying after Alphard.

Lucretia smiled faintly but said nothing, her attention returning to the roses. After a moment, Walburga spoke again.

"So what else did your father say? About Grindelwald?"

Lucretia hesitated, her fingers brushing against the petals next to them. "He said Grindelwald’s ideas are dangerous." She admitted. "Not because they are wrong, but because they are too bold. If he fails, it could make things worse for all of us. Father thinks we should wait for him to weaken the Muggle governments, then step in when it is safer."

Walburga’s eyes sparkled with determination. "Weakness is unacceptable." She said firmly. "If we sit back and wait, someone else will take the glory. The Blacks should be leading the charge. If I were in charge, I would make sure everyone knew our name."

Lucretia’s gaze softened, and for a moment, she almost looked sad.

"Maybe you will one day." She said quietly. "But not now. Not yet. For know, it is your Father's opinion which matters."

Walburga looked at the gray sky above them. Indeed.

They sat in silence for a few seconds.

"Can I ask you something, Lucretia?" Walburga said, looking at her cousin.

Lucretia didn't avert her gaze from the roses, but nodded faintly.

"Why have you never wanted to be heir? Everyone in this family wants to. I mean, what do you even want?"

At this, Lucretia smiled briefly, nearly chuckling, and slowly turned to Walburga.

"Because everyone in this family only cares about power." She said, her voice quiet but certain. "I do not want power. I do not want to lead. I do not want to influence. I do not want to manipulate. I just want to understand everything, to see how people move, why they act the way they do. I want to know everything. Like these roses," She suddenly said, gesturing a bit maniaquilly towards the flowers. "Why are they red? Why not white? And why are they growing in this corner of the garden and not that one? And whoever built this bench... Did they want to be by the roses or was this just the best view to spy into the drawing room from? Don't you ask yourself questions, Walburga? Power is not everything. Do you know how many branches of magic there are? Why would I choose power over everything there is to know? Why would I spend my life being in control and having meetings when I can investigate about anything I want to?"

Lucretia had spoken so passionately she had left Walburga breathless. As her cousin lifted her head to watch the birds over them yet again, Walburga could not understand. Power meant control. Power meant being at the top. She had been born for this, for the responsibility, for the weight of the Black name. How could Lucretia not care?

Lucretia wasn’t driven by anything other than curiosity. She wasn’t even interested in the heirship. It was unfathomable to Walburga.

Her thoughts spiraled. Lucretia was wrong. Knowledge without action was pointless. If she didn’t act now, if she didn’t take charge, then she would fail. No one would respect her. She would be nothing.
But she didn’t say any of this. She just sat there, staring at Lucretia, her heart pounding at all the possibilities.

It was late. Walburga knew that. But, well, Lucretia had opened something inside her. A thrist for knowledge. She had to know.

With a deep breath, she knocked.

Father's study was dimly illuminated by a few chandeliers. Pollux Black himself was sitting in his big armchair, looking far more imposing than a normal twenty year old boy would. But Pollux Black was not normal. Pollux Black was the Black Heir and Head of House.

Father raised his head from the papers he was writing, setting his quill aside. He looked at her for a few seconds, finally nodding and motioniong for her to sit across from him. Walburga silently closed the door behind her and did as she was told, being careful to keep her back straight at all times.

"It is late, Walburga." Father said, putting his hands together and not looking away from her. "What do you want?"

Walburga did not waver. She was a Black. Get it together. "I am sorry, Father, but I need to know. What are we going to do about Grindelwald?"

If Pollux was surprised that she knew, he didn't let it through. He glared at her, in silence, then sighed and leaned back on his armchair. Walburga could hear her heart beating against her ribcage. Was it because she was close of the truth or out of fear? The second one was not a possibility. Blacks didn't fear anything. Blacks were fear.

"Were you eavesdropping?" Was Pollux's first question, in an accusatory tone.

Walburga gulped.

"No, Father." She said, in a whisper, looking down at her lap.

"You must not lie to me." Father said, in a cold, detached voice.

"I am not lying, Father." Walburga said, raising her head and looking at him with earnest eyes. Please, believe me. I need to know.

Pollux Black leaned back yet again, tapping his fingers agaisnt each other. "Then how do you know?"

Walburga took a sharp breath. Surely, if she explained why she had done it, Lucretia would not be in trouble, right?

"Cousin Lucretia knew what you were talking about in the meeting, Father." Walburga said, cautiously. "She did not want to tell me, she said it was bad of her, so she knows she should not have known. But I convinced her. If it was anyone else she had told, Father, it would have been very bad and wrong of her, but it was me she told, the Heir, to make sure I knew and could prepare better to lead this family."

Pollux rested his eyes on her for a few seconds. The silence was so thick Walburga felt like if she reached out, she would be able to touch it. Something was buzzing around in her stomach, like a bunch of Cornish Pixies. Slowly, like it was an illusion, Father smiled. It was a small smile, rather cold, but for Walburga it was as if the Sun had suddenly entered the office and started spinning. She felt pride in her chest, just for being the cause of Father's smile.

"Well done, Walburga. Well done." Father said, and Walburga felt like if she stood up right now, she would be able to put up a record on how many pirouettes someone could do. "You manipulated your way into knowledge, like a true Heir would. From now one, both you and Lucretia will be allowed in on the family meetings."

Walburga nearly jumped out of her chair.

"Thank you, Father. Thank you, thank you." She chanted, smiling broader than she had ever done.

"Walburga, Blacks do not show emotions. Sit down before I regret my decision." He said, his smile completely disappearing.

Walburga's smile disappeared too, and she hurried of to her chair, putting on a blanck expression, although she was shouting on the inside. "Thank you, Father." She repeated, this time cold.

Pollux Black nodded, and ruffled a bit through his papers. Walburga leaned forward, eager to know everything.

After a long moment, he set down the papers, his posture straightening as he folded his hands on the desk.

"Grindelwald," He suddenly said, his tone flat. "is a dangerous man. But not for the reasons others believe."

Walburga’s brow furrowed, not expecting such a response. She had heard of his power, his influence, but her father seemed to view him through a different lens. She was curious, nonetheless. She knew that what Father thought and said was what the Blacks thought and said.

Pollux’s gaze remained fixed ahead, his voice cold, calculating. "Grindelwald is no fool. His ideals… they may be extreme, but he understands one thing above all else, supremacy. The idea of wizards ruling over Muggles, and doing so openly, is something he is bold enough to pursue. We are not foolish like the Ministry, hiding in shadows. Grindelwald knows what must be done, but he lacks… restraint." He paused, then met her eyes, his expression unyielding. "However, his timing is poor. He may indeed rise, but it is not our place to follow blindly. We must observe, Walburga. We do not act unless it guarantees our strength. That is how we ensure the future of the Black family."

Walburga, though still clinging to her belief in swift action, felt a slight twinge of uncertainty at the cold authority in her father’s voice. The weight of his words was not lost on her.

"I understand." She murmured, although she didn't. Not fully, at least.

Pollux’s eyes softened ever so slightly, though the harshness never fully left.

"You will learn, Walburga, that power is not gained through reckless haste. It is earned through careful control. And right now, Grindelwald is not the one who holds the cards. We wait. And when the time is right, we strike. Understand?"

Walburga nodded stiffly, though in her heart, a fire burned. She didn’t want to wait. She wasn’t sure she could.

As she stood up and turned to leave, Pollux’s voice called after her. "Remember, Walburga." He said, his tone cutting through the air "The Black family’s strength lies in our legacy, our rule, our purity. Never forget that. Toujours Pur, Walburga."

The door clicked shut behind her, and Walburga stood in the hallway, her mind racing. Wait. Wait. Always waiting. But how could she wait when they could lead? How could she wait when she was meant to be the one at the forefront?

The legacy was everything, yes. But she had to be the one to carry it forward.

The sky was even darker than it had been the previous day. Walburga didn't know how she had ended up there, again, only this time she was alone, and she was also the one watching the birds fly above her, touching the crimson roses next to her from time to time. A half-finished crochet placemat rested on her lap, long forgotten. She kept flexing her fingers, a bit frozen after being sat at the stone bench for a while. She could not help it though. Something about her conversation with Lucretia still lingered in the air, something that was haunting Walburga, but she could not really grasp what it was.
What had she meant? How could there be people who did things just for the sake of doing them, or learning about them?
Curiosity over power? Knowledge without action? Lucretia's strange philosophy unsettled her. Walburga had been raised to see control and influence as the ultimate goals. It was baffling, infuriating even, and yet, Walburga couldn't deny that something about her cousin’s perspective lingered in her mind.

The sound of footsteps interrupted her thinking. She turned her head sharply, her brown eyes narrowing as Alphard emerged from the house, his steps tentative on the stone path. His dark brown curls, more similar to Lucretia's than Walburga's, were slightly disheveled.
He stopped a few paces from her, his dark eyes studying her with a mix of curiosity and caution. Without a word, he climbed onto the bench and sat beside her, his legs swinging idly above the ground. For a while, they sat in silence, the only sound the faint rustling of leaves.

"What are you thinking about?" Alphard asked finally, his voice soft.

Walburga glanced at him, surprised by the question. Alphard was rarely this quiet or introspective. Usually, he was full of mischief, constantly testing the boundaries of propriety in ways that drove Mother mad.

"The family." She said after a moment, her voice clipped. "And how some people understand what it means to be a Black better than others."

Alphard tilted his head, his expression thoughtful. "Do you think everyone understands it differently?"

Walburga’s lips pressed into a thin line. "Some of us don’t understand it at all." She said sharply, though her tone softened as she added, "But most do, in their own ways."

Alphard leaned back against the bench, his small fingers tracing patterns on the stone.

"What do you think about everyone? You know… what they’re really like?"

Walburga hesitated. It wasn’t often that she was asked her opinion, not by someone who actually cared to hear it. Her analytical mind, always observing and categorizing, sprang into action. She turned to her brother, meeting his curious gaze.

"Fine." She said, shifting slightly to face him. "Let us start with Grandmother Violetta. She iss... perfect, at least on the outside. Every strand of hair in place, every word carefully chosen. But she is also cold, Alphard. Everything she does is about appearances. She cares more about the Black name than the people who carry it. When actually, if you do not care about the members, who are you trying to lead?"

Alphard nodded, his small brow furrowing. "What about Grandfather Cygnus?"

"A true Black." Walburga said immediately. "He is stern, yes, but he is strong. Everything he does is for the family, even if he does not always explain why. He’s the kind of leader we’re all supposed to be.

-And Sirius? -Alphard’s voice lowered, as though afraid of being overheard.

Walburga’s expression darkened.

-Grandfather Sirius is jealous -she said- Ambitious, but in the wrong way. He wants power, but he doesn’t want responsibility. It’s dangerous to be like that.

-What about Grandmother Hesper?

-Beautiful -Walburga said, her tone almost dismissive- And clever. But she doesn’t have the kind of strength that lasts.

Alphard leaned forward, clearly intrigued.

-Uncle Arcturus?

Walburga hesitated, choosing her words carefully.

-He’s sharp -she admitted- But he’s too cautious. He’s always thinking about the future, but sometimes he’s afraid to act -she paused, her gaze drifting to the ivy-covered wall- Grandmother Belvina doesn’t care about any of it -she said, her voice tinged with frustration- She’s so focused on herself, on her little world, that she doesn’t even notice what’s happening around her.

Alphard smiled softly.

-And Lucretia?

Walburga’s jaw tightened.

-Lucretia… She’s different -she admitted reluctantly- She’s curious, always asking questions, always watching. But she doesn’t want to lead. She doesn’t want power. She says she only wants to understand, but what good is understanding if you don’t use it?

Alphard tilted his head, his dark eyes shining with curiosity.

-Do you think that makes her wrong?

Walburga frowned, turning the question over in her mind.

-I don’t know -she said finally- But I know it’s not the Black way.

The wind rustled the roses, carrying their faint, heady scent toward them. Alphard was silent for a moment, then spoke, in a low, almost fearful voice.

-And me? What do you think of me?

Walburga turned to him, startled by the question. Alphard’s expression was open, his usual mischievous grin replaced by a rare sincerity. She studied him for a long moment before answering.

-You’re clever -she said slowly- You see things other people miss. And you’re brave, even if you’re reckless. But sometimes I think you don’t take things seriously enough.

Alphard smiled faintly.

-Maybe you take things too seriously -he said, his tone light but his eyes thoughtful.

Walburga bristled but didn’t respond. Instead, she looked back at the roses, her mind churning with thoughts she couldn’t quite put into words.

-You know so many things, Wal -Alphard spoke again, and Walburga was surprised to hear some kind of respect in his voice- It's impressive. I wish I was more like you.

Walburga turned sharply towards her little brother.

-No -she said firmly- You cannot be like me. I have endured a lot of special training you have not, I am being molded into something you won't ever be, Alphie. The sooner you come to terms with that, the better.

Alphard looked at his feet, and Walburga felt a bad. But this was her little brother. He was not cut out for any of it.

-Do you even like me, Walburga? -Alphard asked, in a muffled voice that showed Walburga he was on the verge of tears. That was bad of him. Blacks did not cry.

Walburga’s expression hardened instinctively at the thought of Alphard’s question. Like? What kind of foolish sentiment was that? Blacks didn’t speak of “liking” or “disliking.” They spoke of duty, respect, and strength. Yet, as she looked at her little brother, his face downcast, his small shoulders hunched, she felt an unwelcome pang of guilt.
Her voice, when she spoke, was cold but not unkind.

-“Liking” has nothing to do with anything, Alphard. You’re my brother. That means you’re part of me, part of this family. It means I’ll protect you, even if you don’t always understand why I say the things I do -she paused, her tone softening just slightly- But do I like you? You’re clever, Alphie, and you don’t let the world crush you. I suppose that’s something to admire.

-Then why did you do it? -Alphard sniffled after a silent pause.

Walburga furrowed her brows, thinking.

-Did what?

Alphard remained silent for a moment before looking at her, his eyes glistening with tears she was hopping he didn't shed.

-Tell Father. -he said, his voice a whisper. He seemed so small, then. He seemed a five year old kid, not the Black Family Member Walburga thought he ought to be- You told Father that I had listened to you two talk, knowing... -Alphard's voice cracked- knowing what he would do to me.

Walburga stiffened, her expression hardening as Alphard’s words hit her. She turned her head sharply, her piercing gaze meeting his teary one.

-I told Father because you needed to learn -she said coldly, though her voice wavered almost imperceptibly- Do you think it’s acceptable to eavesdrop on a private lesson? To insert yourself into something you weren’t invited to? That kind of recklessness, that kind of disobedience, it could destroy you in this family -her hands clenched in her lap as she continued, her tone sharpening like a blade- You think I wanted you to be punished like that? You think I enjoyed it? I did not. But you need to understand, Alphard. Discipline is what keeps us strong. Obedience is what keeps us safe. Father’s lessons are the foundation of what it means to be a Black, and you had no business interfering -she leaned forward slightly, her dark eyes flashing with a mix of frustration and something almost like desperation- You can’t afford to be careless, Alphie. Not in this family, not in this world. Every time you make a mistake, it reflects on all of us. On me. Do you think I can just let that slide? Let you grow up weak, or selfish, or ignorant. Blacks do not eavesdrop, Alphard. That is it. Learn your lesson and move on onto the next one -she finished, looking straight ahead, her expression unreadable.

Alphard looked at her, his eyes round as plates. She held his gaze, unperturbed.

-Blacks do not eavesdrop? -Alphard repeated, his voice curious- How many more rules are there? Every day I hear around twenty new. I sometimes think I am going crazy here.
Walburga’s expression didn’t waver, but there was a flicker of something in her eyes, perhaps guilt, perhaps anger at being questioned. She straightened her spine and folded her hands in her lap as if to contain herself.

-You are not going crazy -she said evenly, though her voice was edged with steel- You are growing up. Growing into what it means to carry the Black name. The rules aren’t arbitrary, Alphard. They are the reason we are who we are.

Alphard tilted his head, his lips pressed into a thin line. He was young, but there was defiance in his stance, a spark that reminded Walburga uncomfortably of herself at that age. Alphard seemed to shake his head and erase all the negative thoughts that were clouding his mind. Instead, he looked at her sister with a small smile.

-So you know them all? -he said- The rules, I mean.

Walburga snorted softly.

-I know a lot of them, but I do not think someone can know them all. There are too many, and I swear someone keeps coming up with new ones.

Alphard chuckled.

-Tell me the ones you know.

Walburga looked at him, sternly, but with a slight hint of a laugh.

-Sure, I will tell you the ones that come to mind. -she took a deep breath, and started recitating in her most cold, detached voice- Blacks do not eavesdrop, Blacks must know all the constellations and everything about cosmos, Blacks must know their geanology tree backwards and forwards, Blacks must respect the Family Tapestry, Blacks do not cry, Blacks do not show emotion, Blacks do not apologize, Blacks do not stumble or fall, Blacks do not decorate with bright colours, Blacks do not eat in public, Blacks do not smile without a purpose, Blacks do not let...

-Okay, okay -Alphard laughed, interrupting her- I think I got the idea.

-Blacks do not interrupt their Heir and Head of House -Walburga said, in a reprimanding voice, but she was laughing too. Merlin, she could not remember the last time she had laughed or sat down to talk alone with her brother. Just now she realised how much she had actually missed it. Laughing, her brother, maybe both.

-Why must Blacks know everything about the constellations and cosmos? -Alphard suddenly asked.

-You are full of questions today. -Walburga answered, returning to her cold default expression.

-Maybe I am always full of them, I just have no one to ask them too -Alphard said, simply. Okay, fair enough.

-We must learn about constellations and cosmos because it is what we are named after. Walburga, for example, is a large main-belt asteroid. Alphard, -she added, gently nudging his shoulder- is a star in the constellation Hydra, the Water Snake. It is the brightest star in that constellation and is often referred to as "The Solitary One" because it is relatively isolated in its part of the sky.

Alphard sighed and looked at his feet yet again, knocking them together again and again. Walburga took this as an invitation to continue her bird-watching activities.

After a long pause, Alphard struck again.

-Who are we? -he asked, the question cutting through the silence. It was an incredibly deep question for a five year old- What does it even mean to be a Black? To sit here and memorize all these stupid rules while Father yells and Mother watches like a statue? What is the point?

Walburga’s jaw tightened. She exhaled sharply through her nose, trying to steady herself. Do not show emotions, she reminded herself.

-The point -she said, her voice dropping into a dangerous whisper- is survival. The point is power. The point is that when people see a Black, they don’t see a common wizard. They see someone untouchable. Someone with legacy. Someone with purity.

Alphard frowned.

-So we can be untouchable as long as we follow the rules? As long as we pretend to be perfect? What kind of life is that?

Walburga leaned forward suddenly, her gaze burning into him.

-It’s the only kind of life worth having -she snapped- You think the world will forgive mistakes? That they will look at you with kindness if you stumble? No. They will tear you apart. You are young and naive, but you will learn soon enough. The rules protect us. The rules make us. Without the House of Black, without this power, we are nothing. Without all of it, our existance does not have meaning.

Alphard didn’t respond immediately. He stared at her, his face pale but determined.

-Then maybe I do not want to be made into whatever you all think I am supposed to be -he said quietly.

For a moment, Walburga froze. Her hand twitched as though she wanted to strike him, but she restrained herself.

-You do not have a choice -she said finally, her voice low and venomous- You were born into this family, Alphard. That is your duty, your privilege, and your burden. If you can’t see that now, then Father will teach you. One way or another.

Alphard swallowed, his throat bobbing, but he didn’t look away.

-Maybe one day, I’ll leave. -he said, almost as if testing the words- Maybe I’ll walk out of this house and never come back.

The words hit Walburga like a blow, though she didn’t let it show. Her lips pressed into a thin, white line, and her hands gripped the stone of the bench so tightly that her knuckles turned pale.

-You will not -she said, her voice trembling with barely contained fury- You will not disgrace this family like that. Do you hear me? You belong to the House of Black, Alphard. You don’t get to walk away from that. Ever.

But even as she said it, there was a flicker of doubt in her eyes, an acknowledgment that Alphard might be different.

-You will understand one day -she added firmly- One day, you will thank me. You will thank all of us -she straightened again, her expression unreadable- One day -she repeated softly, more to herself than to him- we will see who was right. About all of it.

Alphard didn’t reply, but he didn’t need to. They sat together in silence, the weight of their shared legacy hanging heavy in the air.