She would probably hate to know that the Potter son had gone and married a muggle born as well. Harry was just as half blooded as she was; the end of a perfect pure blooded line.
"Can you come stir this, please? I need to sit down." Surely stirring wouldn't be too much of a job for a girl who'd never cooked in her life. Dora left the spoon in the pot as she walked back over to take a seat at the table. "Aunt Wallburga has a portrait in Grimmauld Place. It's horrible. All she does is scream at me, very, very loudly." It was relatively demoralising and she absolutely hated it. With Sirius dead, the portrait had turned all its disgust on her. She supposed it was because she was the only one with Black blood left who went inside the house.
But it seemed like maybe there was still some hope left for people like Wallburga. Dora was somewhat amazed that she'd sat here for as long as she had with Bellatrix having what seemed to be a perfectly civil conversation. They were talking without yelling and screaming at each other, and with telatively few insults passing between the two of them.
She considered this an accomplishment, not to mention something of a good sign. "Now, see, this is nice."