Behind Her Curtain

Following her death, she contented herself with the goings-on of her household to sate the appetite of her busybody ways. Unfortunately, nothing was happening in her household except for watching the slightly crazed house-elf, Kreacher, go slowly mad. As time passed, the boredom drove her mad too and soon she was shrieking at everything, animate or inanimate.

She could barely contain her excitement, therefore, when her eldest son, the disgrace to the family Black that he was, started bringing in Dumbledore and the old wizard's cohorts against the Dark Lord. Secret meetings, those disgusting Weasley children scampering everywhere, and her house shockingly being purged of the most wonderful Dark magic items that took centuries to collect were the only things to watch now.

She began shouting for attention the moment they walked in the door. Sirius, that ungrateful son of hers, immediately tried everything he could to get rid of her. It was enough to make a mother's portrait weep to look upon the wastrel.

To Mrs. Black's disgust, only four people (besides that stupid elf) paid her any mind. Sirius regularly closed the curtain he'd placed over her portrait, shouting at her that she was a horrible hag and to shut up (in her own house, no less!). Their exchanges invariably turned into shouting matches. It was nice to know some things didn't change with death or Azkaban. It was almost comforting to hate him as much as he hated her.

That horrible, horrible werewolf monster, Remus Lupin, whom her eldest son had befriended at school, would only offer tiny smiles and nods of hello at first, as if trying to appease her, but eventually he reverted to saying, "Mrs. Black, would you kindly shut up?" Creatures like that belonged in cages!

Albus Dumbledore, that disgrace to the name wizard, always had something nice to say to her. It usually was some remark on her robes or her hair, which hadn't changed since she'd been painted and well he knew it. The man was not right in the head, which all proper wizards had known for years, and now Mrs. Black had first hand knowledge. And oh the things she could tell about the goings on Dumbledore was arranging in her home! It was a shame she was dead. Of course, if she'd been alive, this nonsense wouldn't be anywhere near her household.

The last person to acknowledge on any regular basis that she hung on the wall next in the foyer was Severus Snape. Lovely boy, what he was doing mixed up with this lot was something Mrs. Black just couldn't understand. He looked so much like his father, those dark black eyes, glittering like onyx. That perpetual sneer on his face was lovely to see, lifted her heart to know that some people still upheld fine moral standards. She particularly liked the sideways hex he'd surreptitiously placed on one of those abominable Weasley twins (she wasn't sure which). It was such a shame Snape was working with Dumbledore. A man like that must have another agenda, Mrs. Black was certain; Dark magic users of Snape's calibre didn't come along everyday, you know.

So there she hung, watching in horror as her son, the Weasley family, and a Mudblood brat disposed of every lovely dark magic item in the house. Sometimes she would rail at Kreacher for not doing a better job of stopping them, but she knew it was no use. That house-elf had always been useless. She sincerely hoped that Sirius would actually make good on his threat to Kreacher to put his head on a spike when he died; it would look better there than on the wall with the rest of Kreacher's family.

The summer drew to a close, with that Potter boy's son being marched in like a convict (the rapture!) and then the whole brood of Weasleys, the Mudblood Granger, and that Potter boy shipped off to school. She gave everyone a good ranting as they left for good measure but was ignored in the hubbub. The house settled down after that into a nice routine of Sirius waking in the morning, a shouting match between the two of them when he discovered her curtain open, and staring at the backside of the curtain until eleven o'clock when Kreacher snuck in and opened it for her.

Sirius would invariably either be in his room sulking (as he did when he was child) or in the kitchen, getting drunk on butterbeer, the lush. If only he could have been more like her precious Regulus. Now there was a wizard, despite the whole getting killed thing. At least he died with dignity, unlike some other sons Mrs. Black could name.

The year drew to a close, broken only by an occasional visit from that disgusting werewolf or other Order members and Kreacher flitting off to visit Narcissa, lovely girl marrying that handsome devil Lucius Malfoy. Excitement bubbled to the surface again. Weasleys poured in from everywhere in the middle of the night right before Christmas, all hush hush and secret. That Potter boy and that Mudblood arrived as well. They all looked very morose. It lifted Mrs. Black's spirits like nothing could. As the holidays commenced, everyone's spirits seemed to lift as hers sunk again. Whatever had happened to Mr. Weasley (she never could catch it all, something about a snake attack), no longer appeared to be serious and Sirius was bouncing around the house singing mangled Christmas carols about that horrid hippogriff upstairs.

And then...that lovely Severus Snape appeared, looking rather sour. She wasn't sure what was going on, but she bestowed a kind word on him. He merely lifted an eyebrow in inquiry as he swept passed. When he left a half an hour later, his expression was thunderous and he paused long enough to inform her, "You have an idiot for a son."

"Yes," she informed him disdainfully, "you have no idea the shame I bear for it." Sirius snapped her curtain closed with a snarl. Her heart was warmed, though, at the thought that someone understood her suffering.

The new year progressed pretty much the same as the old. Kreacher refused to tell her what he was up to but he regularly disappeared and she rightly assumed he was visiting Narcissa. Sirius was sinking deeper into foul temperedness and Mrs. Black's only delight was egging him further down the road. With luck he'd snap and make her proud, but she didn't hold any true hope for that end.

Then it happened. What exactly it was, she wasn't sure, but Sirius came tripping down the stairs, in an uncommonly good mood. He headed for the kitchen, informing his mother rather cheerfully that summer was almost here. After a brief argument on why that was a joyous occasion and her horror to discover her home would be invaded by blood traitors yet again, her wastrel son skipped off to the kitchen, undoubtedly to get drunk. A half an hour later there was a great commotion from the kitchen and Sirius thundering, "KREACHER! I'll KILL you!" More murmuring could be heard from the kitchen again, but all Mrs. Black could discern that it wasn't Sirius alone in there.

Sirius came tearing out of the kitchen, a deranged look on his face. Mrs. Black was hopeful. "Have you finally gone off the deep end?" she asked hopefully.

"Where's that elf?" he snarled at her.

She sniffed. "As if I keep track of him. He belongs to you now." Sirius snarled something at her that caused her to gasp in outrage and Lupin called from the kitchen. "That werewolf back, is he? How'd I miss him coming through the front door? Usually you can smell the stench of-" Her curtain was jerked back over her.

The curtain muffled sounds but she distinctly heard the front door open and then close. Moments later she heard sobbing and shrieking coming from the kitchen again. Puzzled, Mrs. Black strained to hear. It was Kreacher and he was begging.

"Master told Kreacher out, so I...no no! Kreacher would never....hateful to Kreacher...ungrateful...disgrace to family..." There was one last shriek and the silence gave Mrs. Black the chills, even as a portrait.

Her curtain was gently moved aside and she faced the glittering eyes of Albus Dumbledore. He stared at her one long moment and then stated simply, "I hope you realize that your house-elf may have sent the last scion of the house of Black to his death? You can't keep the family alive if there's no family left alive." The curtain snapped closed on her open-mouthed astonishment. She had no idea what the old lunatic was talking about and behind her curtain she let him know so, but she had the distinct impression that Dumbledore was no longer there to listen.

Kreacher never came to her muffled calls.

The house was empty. For the first time since she'd stepped foot in the house as a new bride a half century before, the house made her afraid.

How long she waited Mrs. Black did not know. Eventually she heard the shocked mutterings of the other portraits in the house and the voice of Phineas Nigellus, the old reprobate, shouting throughout the house. It sounded as if he were portrait jumping.

"You old biddy, has your son been by?" Nigellus' voice echoed to her from the portrait of Argent Black just up the stairs and the closest portrait to her.

"No, that waste of wizard hasn't been back since he left some hours ago," she snorted, trying to cover up her sense of foreboding.

"It can't be true. Dumbledore was having a bit of a joke, that's all." She could hear Nigellus' mutterings.

"Dumbledore doesn't have a sense of humor, you idiot," she snapped from behind her curtain. "What are you blathering about, Phineas Nigellus? What's going on?"

There was a hitch in Nigellus' throat as continued talking. "Always did like the boy. Had fire, something this family'd lost. Such conviction, could think for himself, no sheep that Sirius. Not a sheep at all. Can't be gone, he just can't be. Had such hopes for him, now that he was out of prison." Nigellus' voice drifted away but Mrs. Black no longer cared.

'Sirius was gone? Gone where?' she thought to herself. Then she recalled Dumbledore's words "to his death". It all flashed before her. Sirius had left to go to a battle against He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named and had died in the battle. She should be overjoyed but she wasn't.

In her two dimensional mind, the memories of a living person still existed, twisted though those memories may have been. She had been a mother, after all, and once so proud of the two sons that she had given birth too. Each had been precocious in his own way. One so rambunctious and lively, the other more bookish and quiet, but each her son and she'd loved them both.

Sirius, born with his big grey eyes and a shock of black baby fine hair, had been the star in her sky until he turned nine and shouted that she was a prejudiced old bat and that he hated her. Always into mischief, her Sirius, sneaking around after bedtime to play some more or nick food in the kitchens. Sometimes she let him get away with it and sometimes she didn't. He was her eldest, after all, and that got some privileges.

She also recalled how his face had shone when he learned the simplest of things: tying his shoes, riding his broom, writing his name, reading an entire book and leaving for Hogwarts. She'd have died before admitting to anyone but herself, but she had been proud that he'd gone to Hogwarts. Disappointed later when he announced by owl he was in Gryffindor, but proud all the same. There had always been something about Sirius.

She quietly cried behind her curtain.