chapter14

Walburga hated the child.

He had come here, creeping in through the doors or the windows like the filth he was, and without a house-elf, there was no one to chase him out again. At first, Walburga had thought screaming at him would drive him away. It had meant that even members of her own family didn't visit the house anymore, which was the way she wanted it.

But the boy had just looked at her with a sort of puzzled air, and then walked away once her screaming was done. Or sometimes before it was done. He didn't disagree with her or try to say that he wasn't a Mudblood or filth. He just walked away.

Now he walked past with shoes and Regulus's robes on and his hair flattened over that strange scar on his forehead and a bright smile, and Walburga could not stand it.

"DIRTY-BLOODED DEFILER OF MY HOUSE! GET OUT! GET OUT AND NEVER RETURN!"

The boy halted and looked up at her. His green eyes were unnatural, Walburga thought. Just like a Mudblood to give them to his or her son.

"You turn red when you yell, and my Uncle Vernon turns purple," the boy said thoughtfully. "I didn't know people could turn different colors."

"Who is this Vernon?" Walburga demanded.

"I said. My uncle. My Muggle uncle," the boy added, with a glint in his eyes that made Walburga scream again.

"THE CHEEK! TO COMPARE THE LAST MATRIARCH OF THE HOUSE OF BLACK TO A MUGGLE! IF YOU DO NOT LEAVE NOW AND NEVER RETURN, I WILL HAUNT YOUR SLEEP!"

"How? I don't think you can leave that frame the way the other portraits can. You had yourself painted so that you couldn't, right?"