Juliet is the youngest child and only daughter of Orion and Walburga Black.
She is Sirius’ and Regulus’s little sister, and just like her brothers, she’s grown up in a family that believes themselves better on the account of their blood status.
Though, much to her parents’ further disappointment, Juliet doesn’t hold much of a liking to any of their fanatic beliefs.
Like Sirius, she’s always stood out - always questioning her father’s lessons on pure blood supremacy or her mother’s insistence she’d become a proper Lady and then, one day, a proper wife to one of the boys of the other sacred twenty seven pure blood families mentioned on that ridiculous list.
Juliet didn’t want to be like that - like them. She didn’t want to be forced into a marriage with a somebody she doesn’t love, nor did she want to live by the protocol that had been instilled on her since she’d been born.
When, at sixteen, Sirius had run away in the dead of night after a particularly horrible fight with their Mother, she’d felt more out of place than ever before. With Sirius gone, she was left all alone to remain sane in a house of madness.
Regulus, her poor second brother…not half as brave as Sirius, and probably too smart for his own good, had fallen into a silent turmoil that she couldn’t understand. She’d tried, but they hadn’t been close for many months now, so her attempts remained fruitless.
Orion had become entirely cold and passive, spending most his days out on business or in his study. And Walburga…well, she’s the very reason Sirius had started calling Grimmauld ‘the madhouse’in the first place. - It didn’t get any better after he’d left, in opposition to what she might say, Walburga misses her son, and it is slowly driving her into complete madness.
Juliet is thirteen now, and it’s been two years since her brother had left their home. He’s going to graduate from Hogwarts in a few months time, which will make seeing him that much harder.
She sometimes wishes she wasn’t so much younger than him, or their cousin Andromeda, who’s already had her own baby by now…and is far away from the Black madness. She’d love to be seventeen - a grown up in the wizard community, so she could be free like they are.
But she’s still only a child. She’s still at Hogwarts, half way through her third year, and very much still caught up in her family’s business.
You are a Black, young Lady.
Her Mother would always say, her words sharp and her grey eyes even sharper as she seemingly tried to permanently imprint those words into Juliet’s mind.
You should start acting the part, or you will end up like your traitorous brother.
Obviously, Walburga thought she’d be scared to be like Sirius - disowned and scorned by the very people who raised him, but she couldn’t be more wrong.
Her Mother’s warnings weren’t reason to behave…they were reason to keep holding onto hope, and one day, to break free of the chains her last name brings upon her.
One day, she’d be free too.
“I am not asking you a second time, Juliet.” Walburga sneers, wand raised and pointed towards their creepy house elf, Kreacher. “Do it!”
Juliet looks at the elf, gripping her own wand tightly in her hand, though she doesn’t raise it. “No.” she insists.
Her blood rushes into her ears as she feels her Mother’s freezing fingers digging into her shoulders. “Don’t defy me.” Walburga says quietly.
Juliet’s hands tremble ever so slightly as her Mother’s looming form bends down over her shoulder. “Go on, you know the spell.”
She does.
She’s too young, but she’s heard and seen it many times already, least in the very argument between Walburga and Sirius the night he’d left.
She could never use a spell as terrible as the one her Mother wants her to perform.
“I can’t.” she replies, finally averting her eyes to meet her Mother’s with defiance. “It’s cruel.”
Walburga only smiles - a cold and humorless smile that sends an unwanted shiver down Juliet’s back. “Is it now?” she asks with mockery. “Or are you simply too weak to fairly punish an insolent creature?”
Juliet should not be so taken back by the sheer disgust in Walburga’s eyes as she watches Kreacher.
“He deserves it, Juliet.”
Her Mother reaches with slender fingers to brush a loose strand of hair behind her ear.
Juliet hates that she still weakens at such a rare display of affection, but only for a second, before she pulls back, shaking her head. “No,” she breathes. “Nobody deserves to be tortured.”
Walburga’s expression hardens almost instantly. “You foolish child! How dare you defy my orders! You sound just
like—“
“Sirius?” Juliet cuts her Mother off bravely, though her skin is covered in goose bumps.
“Don’t speak that name.” Walburga warns her tightly. “He was insolent and weak, and you won’t become like him.” she grabs Juliet’s wand arm harshly, pointing it towards Kreacher. “Now, do it!”
Juliet’s fingers are white around her wand as she tries and fails to get away from her Mother’s firm grasp. “No!” she replies desperately. “I will never do it! It’s horrible— it’s unforgivable.”
Walburga’s eyes are merely slits as she regards her with nothing but utter disappointment. “You want to be like him, because for some incomprehensible reason, you might actually believe your brother’s incredulous tales…” she grabs Juliet’s chin in a firm hold, forcing those familiar grey eyes to meet hers.
Juliet tries to turn away, but her attempts are for naught.
Walburga’s neatly painted lips curve into a triumphant smile as she bends to be at eye level with her. “As much as you think you could be like your brother…you are not. You are more a Black than either of your brothers could ever hope to be,” she leans so close now that their noses almost touch. “You are mine, and no matter how much you wish it wasn’t so, you’ll always have my blood.”
Juliet struggles as her Mother’s nails dig painfully into her flesh, wide eyes searching the other’s for anything but the cruelty in her words. “Let go of me,” she whispers. “You’re hurting me.”
At that, Walburga lets off, though her fingers linger on Juliet’s cheek. “You will learn to embrace your true nature one day, my darling…I will make sure of it.”
Juliet’s spine tickles with dread as she realizes, too late to prevent it, how her Mother has raised her wand towards the still cowering elf. “Mother, please—“
“Crucio!”
A gut wrenching cry tumbles from Kreacher’s thin lips, echoing through the dimmed room and in her ears - continuously, even many hours after he had stopped.
As she lies in bed hours later, curled beneath the heavy emerald green duvet, with silent tears gathering in her eyes…all she can do is look at the stars and hope -
…one day, she will be free.