Please Im Begging For More Humanizing Walburga!!! - Tumblr Posts
*clears throat* My personal headcanon is that Sirius used to be Walburga’s favorite son.
The moment he was born, she already knew he was special. Her firstborn. She always tells people that stars started dancing in the sky when Sirius first cried as a baby. Sirius was a happy and smart child. He learned the spells much quickly than kids his age. Put him in a room full of kids and he will come out as the ringleader. He always covers for Regulus, and she lets him, because she likes seeing how responsible her baby is becoming. Charming, regal, powerful. The perfect Black. The perfect heir.
But also, Sirius had a streak of rebelliousness (just like her!). He knew the rules, he knew how to play with it, and in it. But he also did not want to bow down to anything, never wanted anybody to be his equal. Sirius accepts others, but also never forgets that he’s above everyone. The perfect Black.
She gives him everything. The best robes, best quills, best paints. She lets him access the forbidden books because she has no doubt in his intellect, or his self-preservation. She lets him go to the Muggle hunts because she knows Arcturus loves Sirius and she knows how happy her son is when Grandfather and Father acknowledge him. (She earns a slap when she questions him what happened, why did Sirius come home so quiet.) She leaves Regulus with him often, and her heart breaks a little at how Regulus shrinks himself (just a little!) but that is how it should be and she’s proud of him. Regulus is the second son. He should understand as early as he can that he is and should never be Sirius’ equal. She brings him to Pureblood gatherings and her heart swells with pride every time a child excuses themselves with a forlorn expression, realizing that they are nowhere near her baby boy’s level. The perfect Black.
She sees him sit beside a bespectacled boy on the Hogwarts Express. The boy waves to Euphemia Potter, and though they are not her family of choice, the Potters are purebloods and that boy will do. Her darling boy will soon ignore him after the usual pleasantries. And if he does not, he will be forgotten once Sirius is in Hogwarts.
That night, she bites her lip through Orion’s Cruciatus (Didn’t I tell you all your coddling would make him weak! How much shame should I have to endure due to your rebelliousness?) after news of Sirius’ sorting has reach 12 Grimmauld Place. Regulus is asleep and Orion Black is not the man who will finally make her scream. She writes to the Headmaster. There has been a mistake! No Black has ever been sorted outside of Slytherin and it certainly would not be her firstborn. The perfect Black! She writes to Sirius, telling him to go to the Headmaster and the Head of House Slytherin. She tells him everything will be fine.
Two days later, she receives Sirius’ reply. “Everything is fine, mother. I like it here. The first Gryffindor Black!” She’s torn between disgust and pride. How did this happen? Sirius knew how to play within in the rules. Is he making his own rules? Is this what it was?
The ladies in society mock her as they pass. Hushed whispers of “I told you so” floated around her for weeks. She tightens her grip on Regulus’ wrist as she quickens their pace. A warning. A protection. She tells him over and over again to not make his brother’s mistake. A warning. A protection. (Regulus has always seen it as a threat.)
Sirius goes home for the holidays a completely different person. He talks about James and Remus (half-blood!) and Peter (another half-blood!). He talks about James and Quidditch. He talks about James and Evans (mudblood!!!!). He tells Regulus all these stories about Hogwarts and the Red House and Walburga wants to blast that blasted castle to ash. He’s talking with his hands moving and his legs spread too far apart. She sees him sit up straight when he catches her glaring. Orion yells at her every night, blaming her for everything that Sirius has become. She curses the Potter boy under her breath. Curses the Sorting Hat. Dumbledore. Everyone. They have corrupted her boy. The perfect Black.
She sends him off to the Express once more after the Holidays are over. He kisses her cheek and says he’ll miss her. “I know you’re not happy with this, Mother, but I am. And I truly am sorry to break your heart, please know that.” She squeezes his hand and she swallows the tightness in her throat as she bids him goodbye.
She received so many letters of his troublemaking tendencies the following year. And the year after that. And the year after. She has written so many letters as well, with hands still shaking from anger, shame, or Orion’s last curse, reminding Sirius of who he was. The Black heir. The one set to stand over everyone in the Noble and Most Ancient House.
Her nails started digging itself deeper on Regulus’ skin. Reminding him not to make the same mistakes his brother did. He didn’t and Walburga loved him so, so much for that.
12 Grimmauld Place is always loud when Sirius is home for the holidays. So many arguments due to his behavior. Sirius has always talked back and Walburga has always been proud of him when he does it, but now he’s defending mudbloods in her house, asking if his half-blood friends can come over and she wonders since when did she start resenting the sound of her firstborn’s voice.
Since when was Sirius a complainer? Could he not see that he was given everything? That he had it easy? That she has protected him from everything, every evil his father could do to him? He used to be the most perfect son, how did this even happen? Did he not realize how many times Walburga gritted her teeth to protect him? How much she has endured to make sure he would grow up differently and less painfully?
It turns out her firstborn would be finally be the man to make her scream.
And Walburga screamed and screamed and screamed. She cursed him and shamed him and belittled him. And Sirius screamed back. As expected. He cursed her and shamed her and belittled her.
The baby boy she raised so carefully, broken to pieces by her.
Years later, Orion is dead and she believes she is free. The war is still raging and she is scared Regulus would soon be dead after defecting. She allows herself to believe in that freedom.
She reads the Prophet everyday, hoping she does not see certain names in the Obituaries.
Regulus knocks on her door and tells her he will be missing dinner and to not wait up for him. She does not reply. She continues to stare blankly at the window when her secondborn kneels beside her. He holds her hand and kisses her cheek and apologizes for breaking her heart.
She blinks away memories of an eleven year old at Platform Nine and Three-Quarters telling her the same thing. She slowly turns to Regulus and asks, for the first time ever, “Where is your brother?”
Regulus smiles softly. “I don’t know. Though he is in a happier place, I’m sure.”
“Was he unhappy here?”
Regulus takes a while before replying. “Not always. But he was always lonely.”
Walburga struggles to believes that, but Regulus does not have to hear it.
Two years later, she receives boxes of Sirius’ belongings after he was sent to Azkaban and she screams again. Out of despair, shame, frustration, she does not know. She wanted to burn every single one of those and she would have, had Kreacher not opened a box and a framed photo of Sirius in a wedding sat on top of that pile. Did he get married? She did not even know. She realizes the Potter boy is also in the picture and remembers the first time Sirius yelled at her (Why are you friends with someone in love with a Mudblood— / Don’t call her that! Don’t you dare call her that!). He reaches for Sirius’ face in that photo and oh... She remembers how her baby boy used to smile like that. He used to smile at her like that.
“He was always lonely.”
She commands Kreacher to close the boxes and take it up Sirius’ old room.
Walburga Black would really rather not rethink all her choices in life but alas, all there is for old people waiting to die is time. She would never admit to it, not that there are people left alive for her to admit her guilt to.
And if she visits both her sons’ rooms and silently grieve all the love she spent and lost, no one would have to know.