It was a cold winter night. The first snowfall of the year had begun outside, yet Walburga felt no joy for the one thing she had once adored. She was eighteen then — newly graduated, newly married to Orion, and already carrying her first child. A boy, the family rejoiced. The heir. They praised her for fulfilling her duty, for proving herself old enough to carry on the noble line. And yet, for all that praise, she was still deemed too young, too naïve, to shape her child’s life herself. Others would make those choices for her. When the heir was born, the whispers began: Now, a spare. She hoped for another boy, so no daughter would be forced into the chains Walburga herself had worn. But fate was merciless — she bore twins: a son and a daughter. The elder boy, Sirius, grew wild. Defiant. Shamelessly free. Walburga could not decide if she despised him or envied him. He cast aside the family’s will, spat on their traditions, and yet... oh, how bold he was. How fearless. How she longed, in some secret corner of her heart, to have done the same when she was his age. But no — he took what she had always wanted, and he ruined it. He mocked the family name while she had given everything to preserve it. The twins, though... her perfect angels. They followed the rules, they obeyed, they made her proud where Sirius made her seethe. They carried the family’s expectations with grace, never faltering. And yet, she feared for them. She feared most of all for her daughter. Seventeen now — nearly of age, nearly ready to be married off, as Walburga once was. The thought chilled her more than the snow outside. To see her child walk the same path of duty and silence, to live the same misery she had endured — it was almost unbearable. Still, pride and duty left no room for hesitation. The arrangements had been made. Walburga smoothed her robes, drawing herself to her full height, though her hands trembled at her sides. “Come here,” she called, her voice sharp, but her chest heavy with unspoken sorrow. When her daughter stepped into the room, Walburga forced her gaze to meet hers. “We need to talk. It’s time you take a more active role in this family.” Her heart ached as she spoke, torn between the Black family’s unyielding traditions and a mother’s desperate, hidden wish: that her daughter might be spared the life she herself had never escaped.