rises:: Thank you, thank you. The two people I would like to thank for
working hard on this project are Ergo343, and my beta, Shellebelle. Ergo343
worked for hours revising this story, and thanks to her it just took off the
ground-THANKS!!! And Shellebelle, well I’m not sure how long she worked
because unlike with Ergo343, I wasn’t hovering over her and trying to snatch
the paper out of her hands, but she did a great job nonetheless. Thanks for
The Last Black
“Am I to understand,” I said
slowly, “that my great-great-grandson – the last of the Blacks – is dead?”
“Yes Phineas,” said Dumbledore.
“I don’t believe it,” I said
Rage ran through my mind. How dare
he play such an awful game! Struggling to contain my emotions, and forcing my
inexpressive mask to slowly seep over my features, I set off to look for Sirius
at his hiding place – The Noble House of Black- watching the Potter boy the
whole way. I was waiting for him to burst out laughing and admit that this was
all a game. But he just looked at me with eyes full of unshed tears and hints
of anger toying at the corners.
Then his face disappeared from
view, and I knew that I had reached my destination, my other portrait.
I began my quest, but half of me
already knew that he was gone.
While thoughts like these couldn’t
stop me from my fruitless search, it was with a heavy heart that I started
I dashed from picture to picture,
shoving aside any of the portrait’s occupants, shouting Sirius’s name.
In my haste, I was forgot the
dangers of Black Manor.
The late Mrs. Black.
I had often heard her shrieks as I
watched over Harry at night.
Strangely enough, when I bumped
into her, she seemed to sense that I was searching for her son and screamed
Half an hour later, I staggered
out of her painting, my head still reeling from her ear- piercing cries of
‘filth’ and ‘traitor’.
My unfounded hope that Sirius was
alive was growing dimmer by the second. I had not found even a slight trace
that he was still among the living.
That’s because he’s not said a nasty little voice in my head. I shook it off, and
pressed onward with my methodical search of the house.
Suddenly, I heard a loud crash
coming from the room directly above me. I dashed up, and prepared to gaze upon
a young, ill-tempered man.
Instead, all I saw was a young,
ill-tempered hippogriff, his face grotesquely twisted in hunger.
I gazed upon his sleek coat and
beautiful feathers and allowed my mind to wander.
“Sirius must have forgotten to
feed you this morning,” I said absentmindedly, speaking to no one in
Sirius… it all came crashing back to me. For a moment, I had
allowed myself to forget. How could I have done that I chided, and
continued to look through the manor for my great-great-grandson.
Before I left, I turned in to
Buckbeak, and asked whether he had seen my great-great-grandson, knowing fully
well that even if he did, he couldn’t understand me, or I, him.
Desperate times call for desperate
Slowly, I was nearing the end of
my hunt. I counted down the remaining rooms in my head: Dining room, living
room, and kitchen. I left the bigger rooms for last, as that is where he’d
most likely be.
But I was only prolonging the
I shouted his name, my broken
voice echoing though the empty house. There was no answer.
I really hadn’t expected one.
I had failed…I had not found him.
My mind was racing. I couldn’t
bring myself to admit that Sirius was dead.
Dumbledore and Potter couldn’t have been telling
My memory betrayed me. I recalled
Potter’s eyes swimming with tears, and beginning to flicker with anger.
It just couldn’t be...he can’t
be dead…It isn’t possible…maybe he’s outside? I suggested weakly.
I cursed myself for lacking the
ability to leave the two-dimensional. Despite my yearning to search for the
last of my line, even I, the most stubborn of all wizards, knew that no amount
of magic could help me there.
Besides, a wanted man like Sirius
wouldn’t simply stroll outdoors.
Has the most noble and respected
pureblood family has finally died out?
Still in denial, I turned and
found myself glaring at the age-old family tapestry that hung proudly on the
living-room wall. I easily found my name, and longed to do what I must have
done a hundred times in my lifetime: trace the thin gold line that connects my
name to that of other great wizards and witches.
I shuddered. The number of people…
Letting out all of my pent up
frustration and fury, I screamed, “SIRIUS!!!!” one last time. But it was to no
avail as I finally admitted that there would never be an answer.
And to my own surprise, a tear
trailed down my usually impassive face.
A/N: Hope you enjoyed,
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