Disclaimer: Harry Potter is owned by JK Rowling et al. Any characters or locations you recognise are the intellectual property of these individuals and corporations. I make no money from the writing of this story.
This story is written for round 8 of the Quidditch League Fan Fiction competition. My prompt this week was to write a story about Walburga Black.
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Thoughts of a Canvas
Time passes differently now that I am a portrait. It is almost as though 'time' does not exist. I do not know how long I have been here, but I know that my soul has left the earthly plane and this faint echo that was once me is left behind in this painting.
For many days, weeks, months or years, I have waited for one of mine to come to me. Only the true mistress or master of this house may access it. The Black family is large and wide-spread. It may take some time for the Head of the Family to be recognised and longer still for those cretins at Gringotts to get their act together and bestow upon the rightful witch or wizard the proper authority required to gain admittance to this proud house.
My house-elf can still be heard roaming the house and taking care of it as he always has. Kreacher lives to serve the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black. People underestimate the loyalty and servitude of a good house-elf. What other creature would be so loyal as to remain with a house, still serving, just waiting for the day his new mistress or master will arrive? None; let me tell you. Kreacher is faithfully keeping to his work to ensure this proud house is ready to once again pulse with life at the proper time.
I wonder who it will be…
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Forevermore I will regret that I failed my duty to this family. My sole purpose was to provide an heir to this Most Ancient bloodline. At first I believe I had succeeded. Two sons—named in the proud tradition of our family: Sirius Orion and Regulus Arcturus; fine sons with impeccable breeding and upbringing. Until that ungrateful swine went off and got himself sorted into Gryffindor. Gryffindor! I wept with the shame that had been visited upon my house! The first non-Slytherin in the family and he was the heir apparent!
At first I thought I could weather the storm of impropriety that had descended upon me. My friends were sympathetic and I could at least console myself with the thought that he had appeared to make friends with two pureblood wizards—James Potter and Peter Pettigrew. It was the third boy I was concerned about, Remus Lupin. Lupin was not one of, nor a branch of the sacred twenty eight families of pureblood wizarding England. For that matter neither were the Potters or Pettigrews, but at least I am sure of their bloodlines in the last several generations and they have been cleansed.
I digress, all could have been salvaged had that boy not thrown his lot in with Dumbledore and that crowd. They tried to keep things secret but I know he actively joined in the fight against the Dark Lord. He would have been better to just stay away from it like his father and I did. Fighting and raiding is best left to the rabble, once the Dark Lord was victorious we would have had our day. Powerful man he might have been, but no man has ever governed our world without the backing of the Head of the House of Black.
Alas, once he began to bring his Muggle abominations into the house, I had no choice but to banish him entirely. The indignity that this poor house still suffers with Muggle posters hanging on its proud walls! And such scandalous images as they depict! I always knew Muggles were filth and scum and these scantily clad women that adorn the walls of my ex-son's ex-bedroom just prove the fact.
I took no joy in blasting his name from the family tree, but it was done. My ungrateful brother could also have avoided the same fate had he not willed his gold to the ungrateful wretch. There was no joy, but there was a saving grace.
Regulus.
My baby Regulus with his proper manners and respect of our ways. No Muggle pictures for him! No, he practiced and preached the beliefs we as a family have been undertaking for centuries. He brought pride back to our little family as a Slytherin. I was disappointed that he overtly joined with the Dark Lord, taking his mark and serving him. He would have done better to follow his father's example and waited to work behind the scenes once the Dark Lord took power.
His death hit me hard. I just wish I had known why Regulus decided to desert the organisation he had been so proud to be a member of. If he had just confided in me then I could have helped him and he would not have suffered at the hands of Slytherin's heir as he did.
Regulus's death signified my final failure—no heir to inherit the title of Head of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black. I must stand sentinel over the house until the day the rightful heir is revealed. It is my duty and I am proud to do it.
I wonder who it will be…
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The day is here! I can hear wizards at the door, trying to gain access. I have ordered Kreacher to open the house to them, after all, only the true heir can access this proud domicile. I must be ready to receive the new master of the house. I do so wonder who it may be. Will it be the son of my brother's daughter? I am unaware of how much time has passed but he may now be a man. Will it be a cousin? I cannot contain my anticipation…
"Kreacher, are you still alive?"
No. No… that voice, it cannot be…
"Now, Sirius, that is no way to greet the elf that is obviously so loyal to your family."
NO!
"SWINE! UNGRATEFUL MAN-CHILD! YOU DARE TO SULLY THE HOUSE OF MY ANCESTORS WITH BLOOD TRAITORS?!"
"Hello, Mummy Dear." The triumphant sneer on his face is more than I can bear. Oh, the shame I feel at having produced such a child!
"THIS HOUSE IS HOME OF THE NOBLE AND MOST ANCIENT HOUSE OF BLACK! NEVER IN ALL MY LIFE HAVE I SEEN IT TAINTED WITH THE LIKES OF MEN SUCH AS THESE!" I recognised the half-blood Dumbledore. Oh they tried to keep it secret, even going so far as to try and prove themselves by killing those Muggle boys, but I knew. I knew his mother was a filthy Mudblood, filth now brought into my house and standing oh-so benevolently before me as though he belonged. He would never belong.
I also recognised the red hair of a Weasley standing there. More shame! And what looked like a Shacklebolt as well!
"BLOOD-TRAITORS! HALF-BLOODS AND FILTH, DESECRATING THE HOUSE OF MY FATHE—"
"Shut up, you old hag!"
He shut the curtain on me! Fine, if you are going to defile my house with the scum of the earth then I will simply bide my time. One day the true pureblood heir will come and this house and family will be restored. In the meantime I will make life hell for you and your filthy associates.
The true heir, I wonder who it will be…
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Thanks for reading.