The Last of the Noble House of Black

Author's Note: This is a “missing” scene from “Something She Had Never Done Before”. Both of my beta readers really liked the scene but in the rewrite process it ended up having to be cut. The back story in brief is: the summer after fifth year, Harry is driven to the brink of despair by a continuous assault on his mind by Voldemort and attempts suicide. After several weeks of therapy in St. Mungo’s, he is released and returns to Grimmauld Place. This is what happens when he first arrives.

Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, Scholastic, yadda yadda, all hail the Queen of Hogwarts. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. I own nothing here. Really; nothing at all.

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A week after the horrible night that Harry tried to kill himself, Hermione was summoned to Grimmauld Place where she and the Weasley’s continued to try to both clean and to rid the house of dark magics. It was still an arduous task. Every day they found something else that reeked of the Dark Arts and had to be dealt with by an adult wizard. And no matter what they tried, the portrait of Mrs. Black and the family tree tapestry remained securely attached to the walls.

They had never been sure when Harry would be released from St. Mungo’s. It was a day-to-day thing as to when the wizard therapists would think he would be ready to return to the outside world. Every morning Remus Lupin, now acting in Sirius’ stead as Harry’s godfather, would go to the wizarding hospital and one of the friends would remain by the door, both to be able to answer the door so as to not disturb the portrait and to make sure Harry would be greeted by one of his friends when he returned. But after several weeks of Lupin returning without him, this chore was abandoned as more pressing tasks came up.

So by the time Harry had arrived at Grimmauld Place the week after his birthday, the first to greet him at the door was Kreacher.

Ron and Hermione were in a parlor just off the entrance hall sweeping the carpets when they heard the front door open. Rushing as quietly as they could, they were met by the sight of Harry standing in the entrance hall holding one end of his trunk, staring at the house-elf, a blank expression on his face. Lupin came in right behind him and closed the door and turned, placing a sympathetic hand on Harry’s shoulder.

Kreacher took advantage of the moment to speak. “Ah, the dog’s pet has returned to our noble home,” he mumbled almost to himself. Harry’s eyes hardened as the old house-elf continued to ramble. “The master wished us to be deferential to the half-blooded pup, but Kreacher knows how one is to treat intruders in his family’s house.”

Harry inhaled sharply through his nose and narrowed his eyes. He took a step forward, releasing the trunk from his grasp. It fell to the floor with a loud, banging THUNK.

The noise of Harry’s trunk falling was enough to awaken Mrs. Black. The curtains over the portrait parted and she began her usual tirade. "Mudbloods!" she screamed. "Half-breeds and werewolves! Why do you darken my house, blood traitors?!"

Kreacher rushed to the portrait, trying to appease his mistress as Hermione looked at Harry. She could see him begin shaking, the colour in his face darkening with rage. Before she could say anything to him, he swung towards the painting.

"SHUT UP YOU SHRIVELED OLD HAG!" he screamed at her. Instantly, a look of shock crossed Mrs. Black’s face. As she opened her mouth to speak again, Harry cut her off. "He’s gone, you cold-hearted bitch! Sirius is dead!"

Confusion screwed up her expression. "What?" she screeched. "When? How?"

Waving at Kreacher, Harry yelled, "This foul waste of flesh convinced me that he was not here when I thought he was in danger, being tortured at the Ministry of Magic. I went to try and rescue him. And when the Death Eaters trapped us, Sirius ended up having to rescue me. Your wonderful,” he drawled, his voice dripping with sarcasm, “pure-blooded niece hexed him and he fell through the veil."

Mrs. Black’s jaw dropped, a look of dread in her eyes. "No," she whispered. "Not that."

"Yes, that," Harry snarled. "And if I had any other choice, I would set match to this place with both you and Kreacher locked in here so that I would never, ever have to listen to or see either of you again. If we didn’t need it so much, I would destroy this house, the home that Sirius hated so much." He paused to take a breath.

"So how does it feel, you loathsome excuse for a mother,” he said, his voice sounding like death. “The last of the noble House of Black ... is dead."

The moment Harry spoke those words, the Mrs. Black appeared to faint. As she collapsed in the painting, it suddenly came loose and crashed to the floor, the spell holding it stuck to the wall apparently broken. Kreacher, who had been cowering from Harry’s rage underneath it, attempted to catch it and only succeeded in having his head crushed under the weight of the heavy wooden frame, dying almost instantly.

Harry then spun on his heel, picked up his trunk and began to climb the stairs. He cast a hard glance at Ron and Hermione before turning to Lupin. "Sirius’s room is now mine." And he disappeared from view.

Lupin had a surprised look on his face at the confrontation in the hallway. He looked at the portrait, now lying face down across the hallway, Kreacher’s dead body trapped beneath it. He said, with a stunned sound to his voice, "I wish I had thought of that."