The Ballad Of Regulus Arcturus Black

Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
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The Ballad Of Regulus Arcturus Black
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Sometimes The Fire You Founded Don't Burn The Way You'd Expect

December 1st, 1981
Azkaban Prison

Walburga sat in her empty, cold cell; trying with all her might to block out mental imagery of her youngest son. In vain, of course. Regulus wanted her to suffer. She deserved to.

For months, maybe even years now, she'd been plagued by visions of August 25th 1978, the day she had watched her son play the piano for the party of Deatheaters and The Dark Lord himself they were hosting, his hands stained red with the blood from an earlier punishment she’d given him; the blood of the Black heir staining the piano keys. Regulus had refused to break eye contact with his mother out of pure anger at her. Childish anger.

Ridiculous boy.

Her ridiculous boy.

Hers.

Her Regulus.

Her son.

Hers. Hers. Hers.

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