Author's Disclaimer: The House of Black and everyone gracing its presence belongs to JK Rowling. I'm just using them for my own nonprofit, no-copyright-infringement-intended enjoyment.
"Black"There was once a time when I was a thing of beauty, when people were proud of me and took care of me. There was time when I felt needed and useful, when I felt sun and rain distinctly. For many years I've not noticed the difference, however; when I became neglected and uncherished, such sensitivities were lost. In my prime, though, I did appreciate the subtleties in weather patterns and the gloriously changing seasons – I very much looked forward to each in its turn. The same may be said of the many people who once tended to me – as I to them, certainly – for when I was formidable and impressive, those people (so like myself) and I shared a resilient, imperturbable harmony, each doing our parts to mutually uphold time-honoured traditions of the family Black. I loomed over each of them from their arrival to their departure, an unobtrusive yet undeniable witness to their lives. Such a coexistence has long since faded, for the Blacks, as families tend to do, grew apart through time and circumstance, and as they drifted ever further from me, I drifted ever further from their thoughts. Occasionally the air becomes charged with a vaguely familiar but nevertheless undetectable energy and I wonder if this will be the moment I am restored to my former, magnificent self. But these moments are rare, fleeting, and inevitably end in utter disappointment. Recently, I have been put to some use, but in comparison with my many years of purposeless solitude, the newly-acquired time in company of others seems very brief. Indeed, due to events which have taken place even more recently, I fear doomed to return to my state of shameful disregard. Though there was once a time when I commanded respect and was full of life, I realize now with utmost clarity that I am still ruined and once again ignored, left completely empty in lonely abandonment and frustrating disrepair – I, the noble and most ancient House of Black.
Author's Note: I started this with plan – To describe the family Black through the eyes of the House (sort of an "if these walls could talk" thing). I'm suffering a bit of writers block and – I don't ask for reviews, generally – would like some input as to whether or not I'm starting off on the right foot here. I would love to dig into the family history, primarily concerning the interconnecting relationships between Sirius, Regulus, their mother and their cousins, with maybe a scattered distant relative scattered here and there. If the House isn't a good enough narrator, I'd like to know so that I could possibly take it from a different angle. Thanks for reading, now please tell me what you think!