The Sugar Quill
Author: GinnyAuror00  Story: The Last Black  Chapter: Default
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The last black

A/N: ::Curtain 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 everything.


And now…our feature presentation…




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 brusquely.


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 searching.


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 bloody murder.


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 particular.


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 measures.


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 inevitable.


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 the truth…


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.


He’s gone…


And to my own surprise, a tear trailed down my usually impassive face.







A/N:  Hope you enjoyed, please take a few seconds to review…




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