"Arrrgh, what has happened now?!" a witch in the team cursed, feeling that someone seemed to like slowing them down.
Right then Kreacher appeared. "Oh no, Kreacher also forgot Mistress Walburga warded the house against intruders!"
The lead healer tried his best to control himself. "Open the door from the inside, would you?"
Kreacher disappeared and seconds later the door opened, finally allowing them to enter the house... only to instantly get slowed down by some kind of anti-intruder measures causing the furniture to block their way. They gave Kreacher a look which clearly said that this was getting ridiculous and the house-elf understood, using his magic to get the way clear.
When they finally reached the correct room after several more delays due to the paranoid defenses, Walburga Black sat slumped and motionless in her armchair. The healers quickly tried to check if there was anything they could do, while Kreacher looked outright miserable. Minutes passed, before the healers gave up and their body language also was answer enough, though Kreacher felt he had to ask.
"Mistress...?"
The head healer shook his had. "Sorry, we were too late. The heart attack she suffered was strong enough to cut off all oxygen. She was brain-dead by the time we arrived. Had we not been delayed so much..."
Kreacher looked like a world was collapsing for him. He no longer heard the healers talking about organizing the transport of Mrs. Black's body to the morgue, where it would be kept until the funeral. In his grief he didn't notice anything, walking on autopilot through the house with no destination in mind. He honestly no longer cared.
He no longer cared, because he also knew that there was only one person left that now would inherit him. The very thought alone that he soon would be forced to follow the orders of the swine Sirius, the person he blamed for causing the family to fall apart, was causing Kreacher intense distress. Everything in him wanted to refuse that man his service, alas, the nature of house-elves would force him into servitude to him.
No, Kreacher wants to go to Mistress Narcissa! She is a proper pure-blood! he thought rebelliously in impotent rage.
Reaching the entrance hall, Kreacher made a discovery.
The life-sized portrait of his late Mistress, which she had ordered being made a little over a year ago and modified accordingly to get imprinted at the moment of her death, now had its curtains closed. That was a clear sign that the imprinting had happened and the portrait now was processing everything before it would become active.
While Kreacher felt he should be elated to still have his Mistress Walburga in some form, it instead made him uneasy.
...home of Sirius Black, July 26th...
It was a very normal Friday morning in the house of Sirius Black and Remus Lupin. Both of them were enjoying breakfast, Sirius reading the day's Guardian while Remus had his attention on the Times. Sirius would walk to the police station in an hour to start his shift while Remus would prepare all his materials for his tutoring sessions for school children unfortunate enough they had to learn during the summer - mostly to make up for bad marks.
However, their usual morning routine was about to get interrupted.
-rriiiiinng-
The sound of the doorbell pulled both men out of their routine. It still was a bit too early for the postman, so they wondered who it could be. Remus left for the door, while Sirius continued to read his newspaper. However, not for long when he heard a quick exchange of words and then a hastily closed front door.
Sirius understood when seeing the elderly man that got escorted in by Remus. That man screamed 'wizard' - he had not even tried to adapt the way he dressed. Sirius already got a bad feeling about this. After all, he had worked hard so that he could not be found.
"You are a difficult man to find, Mr. Black," the man said.
Correction, arrogant pure-blood wizard, Sirius thought, remembering the way this man spoke all too well. After all, he'd heard it often enough from his parents and many pure-blood students from rich families.
"Well, that's because I didn't want to be found by any wizards, as I'm done with that world. How did you manage to do so anyway?" Sirius didn't bother with keeping his irritation at bay. After all, this situation was exactly what he had been trying to avoid.
"Well, the rules of inheritance always allow us to locate the heirs. I am Mr. Howe, the executor of the Black estate and generally responsible for all legal matters of the Black family," the man introduced himself.
Now, this caused Sirius' interest, and it explained a lot. Of course the Blacks would want a person with a compatible mindset to handle their legal matters. "The Black estate? I'm a bit out of touch; I thought Cygnus Black is running that?"
"Sadly, Cygnus Black died some days ago. Before that matter was fully processed, even more sadly, Walburga Black died yesterday as well due to heart failure. We had to hasten things due to this double loss." Mr. Howe looked genuinely sad about this.
My mother didn't have a heart, but I guess she ran out of spite to keep herself alive. Some years ago I would have thrown a party that she finally kicked the bucket, but now I'm just glad she's gone. He didn't say that aloud however.
Instead, he appeared mostly emotionless and little moved by these news. "So my mother and uncle are both dead? I guess that's it for the Black family, right? No more male Blacks left, the remaining female Blacks married out of the family with one being disinherited and one even being in prison, and I'm disinherited as well."
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