A Different Witch
The members of the Order of the Phoenix were sitting around the kitchen table in 12 Grimmauld place. No one actually said 'Sirius's house' anymore; it was 12 Grimmauld place. The whole Order was more subdued than usual, and it wasn't surprising, as they had lost one of their own. Still, no one said it. Even Snape was looking melancholy.
They weren't talking at all, actually. They were waiting, silently. In fact, the house had a silent feel to it even when people were talking. It was like the house knew that there were no more Blacks and that Kreacher was responsible. Old Kreacher had died horribly when whatever was living in the wardrobe in the attic did something to him. No one really knew what happened. Dumbledore, looking older than he ever had in the past, stared up into the ceiling. Everyone was doing the same thing too‹not looking at anyone else.
"BLOODY TRAITORS! SCUM OF WIZARDING KIND!" Everyone jumped when Siri- no, Mrs. Black's picture, started to yell.
"Be getting that," Mundungus Fletcher said, practically running from the table. He came back a minute later with what seemed to be a young woman in a long dark green cloak.
Dumbledore stood up. "Ms. Madison, it's very good to see again."
The young women pushed back her hood and smiled. "As always, professor."