A Dying, Blackened Tree
{The Black Family Tree Challenge}
Lucretia Black
February 19, 1992
Black Cottage
Lucretia was far from superstitious, but she couldn't help thinking that there was something symbolic about the way the blackened trees are curled over, naked and ugly despite the beautiful snowfall. She dismissed this notion quickly though, her father would have punished her for such trivial thoughts.
One would think that such a prestigious family could manage to provide a dying woman with a nice view out her window, but alas. No one was left to ensure that the remainder of her life was a pleasant one. It was a sad day when all that remained of the noble Black line was a withered old woman.
She was just a withered old woman, dying of some moronic muggle disease. Lucretia had never been the type to dream of immortality; she knew death to be inevitable. But what had she done to deserve such a plebian way to go? Melania Black had diagnosed her daughter with having "an unhealthy aptitude for dramatics" (a correct diagnosis, Lucretia thought) and indeed, Lucretia wished for a noble way to go, to honor the name of Black.
Perhaps a mudblood rights cabal would assassinate her in the night? Or maybe she would be caught amidst a goblin rebellion the next time she had business at Gringotts? And she couldn't relinquish the possibility that Dumbledore had Imperiused her house elf, and it had been slipping poison in her studded goblet the whole time…
Abruptly, Lucretia's abstract thoughts left her and she returned to staring out the cloudy window.
There was something about that tree that nagged at Lucretia, but she couldn't put her finger on it. It wasn't the way it hunched over itself, or the way it stood out against the pure white landscape. It took a minute, but missing link came to her.
That dying, blackened tree – it was the last of its kind, the only sign of life remaining.
And then Lucretia lost her train of thought for good. Her poor, addled mind just couldn't take it any longer and her body convulsed in shakes once again.
February 19, 1992
1 Hour Later
Lucretia came to with a gasp, slowly but steadily, but genuinely surprised she still possessed her vitality. The Most Ancient and Noble House of Black hadn't died yet, although fate didn't have much more work to do. If it could just finish her off…
With a small cry, she sat up like an arrow. She wasn't the last Black!
Of course, there were those dreadful girls of Cygnus's – what were their names again? Amanda perhaps? Or maybe Belladonna, that sounded about right… but they were girls from a less prominent line, definitely not worthy to carry the name of Black anymore.
Sirius. How could she have forgotten that mischievious nephew of hers? Sure, he was a convicted murderer, currently rotting in prison, but the name of Black still retained a ridiculous amount of sway over the Ministry of Magic. She could remember the stories her grandfather used to tell, Blacks were above the law, they had too much clout to be ordered around, they could do whatever they wanted. Realization slowly washed over her- the Black line could be preserved! All it would take was a bit of legal finagling from her deathbed, surely something that her overpaid lawyer could see to.
Newly invigorated, Lucretia rang for the house elf. The ugly little creature appeared within moments. Ever since she was little Lucretia had been disgusted by those bulbous eyes and the nasty, unclad body… but she losing her focus, yes, this was a matter of importance!
With all the superiority she could muster, she addressed the house elf. "Erm, house-elf," she began unevenly, never able to remember its name, "I need to speak to Mr. Narginomy immediately, contact him for me." It scurried away to do her bidding, and a familiar sense of supremacy returned to Lucretia.
Ah, yes. That feeling had been gone for too long; she had missed it. She had forgotten what it felt to be a Black, a feeling that she certainly did not wish to die with her. But ideas like these came at a cost to the tired woman; she needed rest.
Lucretia lowered her head to her pillow a bit dazedly, her head still ablaze with millions of thoughts that required too much work to sort out. She slept peacefully, dreaming of good deeds and brilliant ideas, plans that would soon be brought to action. It was a lovely feeling, one that almost healed her blackened heart.
But Lucretia's lofty goals never came to fruition, as she never woke up.
a/n: So this was written for a challenge on HPFC, and it sort of turned into a "missing moment" that fits into the HP books kind of nicely. If you have time, I'd like to know what you thought of Lucretia, it was really my first time writing such a minor character. Thanks for reading :)