Elizabeth Cornwall is from a good and noble family. That is why it is so shocking when Minerva McGonagall tells her family that she's dead.
"But that can't be right." Her father sputters. "Elizabeth, she, she would never do such a foolish, harebrained-"
"It is true Mr. Cornwall." Minerva McGonagall, stiff as a board, says coldly, "I am sorry."
Then she leaves and the Cornwalls are left to wonder at their daughter's choice.
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Elizabeth had always been a little different. Morgana had been in Ravenclaw. Richard had been in Slytherin. And Elizabeth had somehow managed to be placed in Hufflepuff.
Morgana had been excellent at Charms. Richard had been excellent at Potions. Elizabeth had been excellent at neither.
They had loved her of course, even if they didn't understand her most of the time. Elizabeth had always listened. When they had talked to her about Mudbloods, she had always nodded. When they talked to her about Pureblood supremacy, she had always smiled. Elizabeth had never given them any trouble at all.
Even now, at her funeral, surrounded by Mudbloods and Muggle Lovers who were all supposedly her friends, they thought there had to be some mistake. This girl who helped the half breed caretaker raise bowtruckles, this girl who drank Gryffindors under the table after a Hufflepuff win over Slytherin, this girl who had been in a serious relationship with a Mudblood who had been arrested during the war, this girl was not their daughter. She couldn't be.
Because Elizabeth had always listened. And if they admitted that this girl was her, it meant that they had never really known their daughter at all.