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Goodnight and Good Riddance

It was a late December night at 12 Grimmauld Place. In the dining room sat an woman, in her 60s. She looked much older, prematurely aged from stress. She was sipping wine from a silver goblet. As the grandfather clock in the corner of the room chimed eight, she put drink down and called out, "Kreacher!"

With a crack a house elf appeared. It was small creature with a snout nose and bat-like ears. The elf bowed to the woman. "Yes my mistress Black?"

"I would like my tea up in the drawing room tonight. Bring it up immediately."

"Yes Mistress Black, Kreacher will bring it up right away." The elf bowed again, and with another crack he disappeared.
Mrs. Black rose from the dining table and looked around. In a cupboard across the table was a set of fine china. She walked over to the cabinet and to take a closer look. She eyed on of the plates inscribed with the Black family seal. She rubbed her finger across the edge. "Disgusting." the plate was covered in a thin film of dust. She'd have to get on to Kreacher for not dusting.

She turned and left the room, walking into the hallway. A large crystal chandelier glittered overhead. The hall was lined with gas lamps and old portraits, including one of herself. She had had it made a few years back, when her health had started to decline. She wanted to make sure her image was eternally in this house. She had even put a permanent sticking charm on the back, just in case anyone had dared to remove her portrait.

She walked across the old carpet, to the wood staircase. As she walked up the stairs, she eyed the heads of past house elves. Her Aunt Elladora had started beheading the house elves, and rightfully so. If they couldn't hold up a tea tray, what use where they?

When she reached the first landing, she turned into the drawing room. In the room were a few armchairs, a desk, fireplace, and large glass-front cases filled with Black family mementos. As she sat in the nearest armchair, Kreacher appeared carrying a silver tea set.

Mrs. Black looked at him with her cold, gray eyes. He bowed and said, "Kreacher hopes Mistress likes her tea, he added two squeezes of lemon just as Mistress likes it."

"Good, Kreacher. Now go clean up the dining room, I saw dust in that china cabinet earlier and I want it spotless!" Mrs. Black ordered the elf.

"Yes Mistress." Kreacher responded with a bow, then disappeared in a loud crack.

Mrs. Black picked up her tea cup and sipped. She looked around the room. Across from her chair hung a tapestry labeled "The Noble and Most Ancient House of Black, Toujours Pur"

She stared at it for a few moments, then put down her tea and walked across the room to view it more closely. She regarded this tapestry as one of her most valuable possessions. It showed the Black family line, dating back as far as the middle ages. This was another item she had placed a Permant Sticking Charm on, as she couldn't bare the thought of someone trying to throw it out once she was gone.

She traced the gold embroidered letters with her long finger.

"Toujours Pur," She said to herself. "Always pure."

And as it should be. The house of Black was one of the oldest pure blood families left in the wizarding world. If anyone dared to dirty the Black blood...

She traced her fingers down to a burned mark where a name should have been.

"Andromeda" Mrs. Black said with the sound of disgust in her voice.

Andromeda had married a muggle-born, which Mrs. Black had always disproved of. She had refused to attend the wedding and shortly after removed Andromeda from the family tree. She wouldn't have that filth even mentioned in her house, let alone allow it in her family!

She traced her fingers along to her other nieces, sisters of Andromeda, Bellatrix and Narcissa. Now they were fine, outstanding witches. They had both married into pure-blood families. A few years back Bellatrix had gone to prison for allegedly torturing a couple named the Longbottoms. Bella wouldn't have done that, Mrs. Black thought, it must have been some horrid mistake. She was always a well behaved child. Narcissa had done well though. She was currently living in a town a few kilometers outside of Cardiff with her husband Lucius and young son, Draco.

Mrs Black traced her finger up the tree and landed on the name Phineas Nigellus. This had been her great grandfather. One of the great Blacks, she thought. He had been a Hogwarts headmaster, and she even kept a painting of him in a second floor bedroom.

She traced her finger down to burn mark where her brother, Alphard, should be. She had blasted his name off shortly after he died. He had always took a liking to her eldest son, Sirius, and left most of his fortune to him. This allowed Sirius to become independent and move out of her house at the age of sixteen.

She traced her finger down to were Sirius' name should have been. He'd been blasted off after he moved out, but even before that Mrs. Black had a feeling he had gone wrong. One day shortly after he had left for his first year at Hogwarts, she had gotten a letter from him. He wrote to tell her he had been sorted into Gryffindor. He seemed pleased, but this unsettled Mrs. Black. Most Blacks went to Slytherin. She knew it had to have been a mistake and even wrote the Headmaster, Albus Dumbledore, to demand that he be resorted. The headmaster had wrote back and assured it was no mistake. She just knew Sirius was misguided from that day on. During the summers he had become increasing resistant to her requests, and on one night before his sixth year, they got into quite a row over the importance of being pure blood. He stormed out and swore that he would never return to her house, as long as he lived. Good riddance, Mrs. Black thought. He was a shame of the family name and didn't deserve to live in the Black's house. A few years back he had been sent to Azkaban, accused of murdering muggles. Mrs. Black thought that had to have been a mistake, he was a filthy blood traitor and supported fair treatment of muggles. But she didn't really care of what had come of him. If he was locked up, he probably deserved it.

Mrs. Black then traced her finger across from Sirius' burn mark to Regulus. Regulus was her younger son, and a fine example of what a Black should be. He had joined the death eaters, a group that was determined to rid the magical world of muggle-borns and put pure-bloods in charge. Mrs. Black thought they had the right idea. The wizarding world needed some purification. Regulus had died in some tragic accident, at least that's what she had been told. I'm sure he died proud and fighting, she thought, some dirty blood traitor must have killed him, certainly. Probably didn't like that group he was with. She was deeply saddened and depressed when her only heir had died. Mrs. Black had become very distraught and barely left the house after.

Mrs. Black turned away from the tapestry and moved to a glass-fronted cabinet on the side of the mantelpiece. It was filled with Black family possessions, some things had been in the family for centuries. She opened it up and admired its contents. A silver snuffbox was on the first shelf, along with a crystal bottle filled with red liquid and a beautiful musical box. Mrs. Black made sure to steer clear of the snuffbox, it had been charmed to nip at fingers if they got too close. On the second shelf sat three small silver boxes, all inscribed in foreign languages. Her great uncle had acquired these from his travels. He had studied ancient magic from other cultures around the world. On the bottom shelf were a number of Black family seals, and a large book, Nature's nobility: A Wizarding Genealogy.

She closed the cabinet and moved to the other side of the mantle, to another large cabinet, identical to the first. She opened it and picked up a small black box with a medal displayed inside. Mrs. Black delicately picked it up and read the inscription. "Order of Merlin, First Class" This had been awarded to her father, for his services to the ministry. She put the award back into its box and placed it in the cabinet. She looked at all the other objects. Some where powerful, rare magical items the family had collected over the years. On the top self was a heavy gold locket she had found among Regulus' things after he had died. She had never been able to open it, but admired it from time to time. It had a lovely serpent sketched in it, and wondered if Regulus had bought it for a gift, as the Black family crest featured a serpent. She picked up the gold locket and tried to open it. It still wouldn't budge. Sighing, she went to place it back on the shelf. Suddenly, Mrs. Black felt a sharp pain in her chest. She quickly drew her arm towards her heart, the locket clutched tightly in it. The pain shot down her arm, and she fell to her knees.

"Kreacher!" she yelled. Another jolt of pain seared down her arm. "Kreacher, come now!"

With a crack Kreacher appeared. Mrs. Black was now sprawled on her back in the floor, screaming in agony.

"Oh mistress, what can I do! Oh please Mistress!" Kreacher bent down to Mrs. Black.

Mrs. Black looked at Kreacher and said, gasping, "Get help, my heart is..." But Mrs. Black couldn't finish. She went into convulsions and then her body went completely limp. Her eyes rolled back in her head. The gold locket laid lifeless in her hand.

"Oh no, Mistress! You must be alive!" Kreacher felt for Mrs. Black's pulse, but she was clearly dead.

"No, No Mistress," Kreacher wailed, "Kreacher will never leave your side, Mistress, he will always serve you. You musn't leave him now! Someone must help Mistress!" Kreacher's screams echoed all throughout the house, but sadly no one was there to hear him.

A/N: Thank you for reading, please review!