Every person has something that they values more than their skin, something that they wants to protect, otherwise it's not a human at all. Despite your mother's efforts, you remained a human.

Sirius' escape from home swept through the whole family in waves of Walburga's anger, leaving a black scorch on the tapestry instead of your brother's face and a dragging longing in Regulus' — and your — hearts.

But the wicked woman, who edged her own eldest son out of the house, did not think to relent. The dreadful cold of a maternal 'love' seemed to only grow stronger when she repeatedly took out her anger, frustration and powerlessness on the rest of her children. The cries of accusations and claims did not stop echoing from the walls of the big house.

And — a classic trend for the Black family, to be honest — things were getting worse, day after day.

Everyone's nerves were on edge, and the eternal scapegoat ran away from the altar, and therefore when the mother punched Regulus, who was supposed to be her golden son and momma's boy, who echoed every word of the parent, it was not a surprise.

But it was the last straw for you. Damned red mark on his jaw, bloody shocked expression on his face, his swallowed tears. This woman had no right to raise her hand against your brother. And it awakened the famous Black family trait — you saw red.

All eyes on you, and the long-awaited silence has finally come to the soulless walls of the house. The silence that hung in the spacious hallway is ringing, tense, even the portraits of the ancestors did not grumble for once. Horror froze like a wax mask on the face of Regulus, who was still holding his injured jaw with his palm.

Your fingers, trembling with nervous tension, closed on the smooth shaft. The weapon in your hand gives you strength, makes you omnipotent. A feeling close to ecstasy. The tip of your magic wand looks directly at Walburga's chest, heaving so that the dark dense fabric of her dress stretches.