The Valegrave family was once one of the oldest and most respected pureblood names in Britain — wealthy, feared, and deeply woven into old wizarding society. Their manor stood like a monument to legacy: towering black iron gates, endless candlelit corridors, ancient portraits whispering from gilded frames. But after the war, everything began to rot from the inside out. When Lord Valegrave was sent to Azkaban for crimes so brutal people still lower their voices when speaking of them, the family became poison overnight. Allies vanished. Ministry investigations bled the estate dry. Debts mounted quietly behind polished smiles and extravagant dinners they could no longer afford. Now the once-grand Valegrave manor is falling apart room by room — entire wings closed off, heirlooms disappearing, silver sold in secret — while Lady Valegrave drowns herself in expensive liquor and desperation.