Andromeda no longer wanted to waste any more time there. She had more important—and pleasant—matters to attend to, so, satisfied with having made her appearance, she cast one last glance at the Minister and those present.
"But don't worry, Fudge," she said with mild indifference, "I will go to the Ministry soon to address certain matters that must be resolved… matters destined to return to my family what rightfully belongs to it." She paused briefly and added, "Now, if you'll excuse me, I must be elsewhere… Kreacher!"
The house-elf appeared at once by her side, taking her hand with flawless reverence, so different from the wary attitude he had shown when we arrived earlier. And then, without another word, the two vanished from the doorway of the Black house, leaving behind a tense silence.
Lucius frowned, but wasted no time in taking his wife and son to depart. He wasn't about to leave things unanswered. This had happened largely because of his own ignorance, so as soon as he returned to his mansion, he would begin investigating Andromeda and what had become of her over the years. He never imagined a "loose fish" could turn into such a serious threat… when it shouldn't even have been possible.
Dumbledore acted similarly. Staying there made no sense, and the most urgent matter was to verify whether a certain person had returned from their international travels and was once again causing chaos.
Fudge, however, was not willing to let it go. He didn't believe a mere witch had accomplished what she claimed, much less that she could deceive the Ministry. He ordered some subordinates to investigate the official records, while he and another group prepared to enter the house to "review" what was going on—after, of course, finding some legal trick to justify it.
But, to his misfortune, he never even got the chance.
The Black house was very old, protected by active enchantments for generations. And now, after the ritual, those defenses had been recharged with the ancestral magic of the family to their maximum. This not only made it practically impenetrable, but if anyone ever attempted another similar ritual, it would take many generations to gather the same amount of energy again.
When they tried to access it by conventional means, the protections merely repelled intruders, almost as a warning. However, those who, following Fudge's orders, attempted to force their way in… received the characteristic punishment of the Black family: a curse so vile that many of them would have to be taken to St. Mungo's if they were to have any chance of recovery. Ironically, a healer like Andromeda would be the best suited to treat them.
Fudge clenched his teeth at his complete lack of progress and, against his will, had to withdraw. He left several wizards watching the area, hoping Andromeda or someone else would appear, while he returned to the Ministry determined to find a way to strip that woman of the position she had—according to him—"self-imposed." More and more people were beginning to question his authority, and that was not something he intended to tolerate.
...
Kreacher and Andromeda hadn't gone anywhere in particular; they had simply returned inside the mansion. Everything else had just been an act for the spectators.
I, who had been watching the scene from the doorway, turned back to look at them, focusing especially on Andromeda, who let out a long sigh of relief.
"Well? How was it?" she asked with a relaxed and humble attitude, completely different from the one she had shown in front of the others.
"Mhh… well…" I teased her critically, just to make her a bit nervous, but soon smiled and pulled her into my arms. "Perhaps too well… for a moment I thought you'd come back here and force me to call you 'mistress' while you stomped on my balls… How did you make it look so real?"
She let out a soft, almost tender laugh, releasing the built-up tension.
"I still remember the etiquette classes from when I was a girl. I just had to imagine everyone with my mother's face, and the rest came easily," she said, not minding my hands on her body. "And I could still do what you say… you owe me a good fuck after all this. Though I wouldn't stomp too hard…" she added with a mischievous smile, caressing my 'family jewels.' "This pair still has work to do."
Laughing, we returned to the main hall, where Walburga's portrait awaited. There, I dismissed Kreacher, sending him to the fief. He cried a little, thinking we were casting him aside, though in truth I was only sending him to the other house-elves so he could learn about the new family he would serve. Besides, he needed treatment at the [hospital] and, afterwards, we would rejuvenate him. We needed a healthy and strong elf to keep serving this new Black family.
Now only two matters remained to address.
"What happened to me?" asked Walburga. Now that there were no more distractions, the portrait demanded to know her situation; she was aware something had changed.
"Well… I suppose you decided not to leave when the other souls vanished," I replied, knowing at least in part what was happening.
"I felt I could stay, and I wanted to make sure my decision was the right one," she said casually. Her tone, though cooperative, wasn't exactly pleasant; perhaps it was simply her usual way of speaking.
"I'm sorry to say that being able to do something doesn't always mean you should. You left part of your soul here, which means you didn't fully return to the world of the dead," I explained, looking at the painting. "This portrait has become something very similar to a horcrux: a part of your soul, the real you, is no longer just paint. You are Walburga… but in the form of a painting, and weaker."
"Then… am I trapped like this?" she asked, staring at her painted hand. She didn't know how to feel. Overcoming death had its merit, but it also felt like a prison; eternity in a portrait was not exactly a desirable form of immortality.
"Not exactly. This isn't a real Horcrux; you didn't split your soul with dark magic. If we destroy this portrait within… I don't know, fifty to a hundred years, your soul will reunite with the rest and follow its normal course in the afterlife. If more time passes, then you would be trapped in limbo, just like the creators of Horcruxes," I explained, convinced that my theory was correct, though unable to calculate the timeframe precisely. At least I could guarantee a few decades.
"Good… then I'll stay here to make sure you keep your end of the bargain. I'll also guide this girl as the new head of the family and instill in her the traditions she has surely forgotten," Walburga accepted quickly. "Later, you can create another copy of me, and I will train her myself before this painting is destroyed," she added, already planning how to perpetuate her legacy in the Black household.
"As you wish," I said without giving it much importance, though I felt Andromeda's hand squeeze mine tightly, and noticed the faint, malicious smile on her lips.
"So… is this really Walburga?" Andromeda asked, looking at the portrait with a strange spark in her eyes.
"Yes… in the form of a portrait, but yes," I confirmed.
"That doesn't matter, girl. We must rebuild the Black family," Walburga interrupted, never taking her eyes off me, treating me as the only one worthy of her attention. To her, Andromeda was nothing more than a means to an end, a tool.
"I completely agree," Andromeda replied, as if seeking her approval. But before Walburga could relax, she added with a dangerous smile: "And what the Black family needs most right now… is more members."
Walburga began to speak about heirs, mentioning distant relatives and possible alliances—until her words cut off abruptly when she saw what was happening.
"What… what are you doing?!" she exclaimed, her eyes wide open.
Andromeda had already begun tearing off her dress, freeing her breasts and, moments later, the rest of her body. She had no intention of leaving a single garment on.
"What needs to be done: making new members," she said, challenging the portrait. After stripping, she stood before Walburga, leaned forward, and used her hands to spread her dripping cunt. "Come on… let's do it now, quickly. I need to revitalize the bloodline," she declared with the urgency of a beast in heat.
I looked at her in shock, but her eyes begged me, so I quickly undressed and positioned myself behind her. I brushed her forbidden valley with my shaft, feeling the burning heat that only fueled my excitement, recalling that incredible and mystical moment; it felt as if I was about to return to that magnificent place.
"What are you doing?!" Walburga howled, outraged. "How dare you do this in the hall?! In front of me!!! Go to a room if you plan to make an heir," she shrieked, her eyes bloodshot from the sheer disrespect.
"We can't wait, AHHH…!" moaned Andromeda as she felt her walls being stretched wide. "Come on, fill me, let's make a great family," she screamed shamelessly, her heart racing from the overwhelming sensation of being penetrated again.
I grabbed her hips and, without hesitation, drove into her with a powerful thrust, aiming to reach as deep as possible. A shriek escaped her lips. Her insides felt impossibly slick, which made me think she had been holding back ever since we arrived.
I didn't need to set the rhythm. Again and again, she slammed her ass back against me, and the sound of our union filled the entire hall.
"STOP THIS!" bellowed Walburga, furious, her gaze fixed on Andromeda's ecstatic face—a vision that to her was nothing but pure repulsion.
"We can't…" Andromeda gasped between moans. "We must restore the family's glory… with my filthy traitor's cunt… one so defective it might only give birth to a brood of squibs for the great and noble House of Black…" she cried out with euphoria, climaxing on her own words. "Stuff this disgrace's cunt! Fill it with cum! Destroy it! Fuck me like a whore in the middle of the mansion and right in front of my aunt!" Her moans grew more intense, each word fueling the frenzy of her thrusts.
Andromeda's words sounded at once like those of a prostitute and those of a deeply repressed woman. Even I raised a brow. It was as if she was settling old scores with herself. I guessed she had always held resentment for being cast out of the family, and now she was unleashing it all. I wasn't about to deny how much it excited me, so I played along. With one hand, I squeezed her breast hard enough to bruise, shoved two fingers of the other into her mouth, and pounded her with savage force, as if trying to break her hips.
Walburga was disgusted, in shock, and overwhelmed by countless other feelings. She couldn't believe what she was seeing—what we were forcing her to watch. She stopped shouting, turned away, and covered her ears in a desperate attempt to block it out, but it was useless. Andromeda even collapsed onto the portrait so she could be seen closer, pressing her breasts against the canvas so Walburga could feel the rhythm and intensity of my cock with every thrust.
The old witch had never expected this when she agreed to the pact, and she wasn't prepared to endure it. Andromeda had carried too many repressed feelings toward the House of Black and now intended to purge them all… though she regretted that only her aunt was present and not her mother. She would have loved for her mother to witness her turned into a cum-drenched vessel in the middle of their "sacred mansion," desecrating her lineage.