Magic? || Years 1-5

Mrs. Black: Year 5/Summer

"Tonks!" Mrs. Weasley gasped, turning to her.

Tonk's eyes were wide as she stared up at Mrs. Weasley from the floor, "I'm sorry! It's that stupid umbrella stand, that's the second time I've tripped over -- "

And the woman in the painting started to scream. The loud, tortured kind of screaming that penetrated through Amisty's skull.

It was so loud she couldn't hear it and then it hit her all at once. It didn't help when the other paintings started to shout as well. She fell to the ground, clutching her hands over her ears and screaming silently to the floor, her head pounding.

Or... maybe she wasn't screaming silently. It was hard to tell through the pain.

Hermione had dropped down next to her, trying and failing to drag her off to the kitchen and out of the direct attack of noise as Lupin and Mrs. Weasley struggled to pull the curtains closed around her.

"Filth! Scum! By-products of dirt and vileness! Half-breeds, mutants, freaks, begone from this place! How dare you befoul the house of my fathers -- "

Mrs. Weasley ran up and down the steps and hall, Stunning the paintings as she went.

Amisty's hands were shaking. Tears were pricking her eyes. Her head was spinning and it was almost as if the screaming was turning into ringing.

Maybe she'll actually go deaf this time.

Oh, for Merlin's sake, not one adult could have cast the spell? Not one!?

"Shut up, you horrible old hag," Sirius suddenly burst out of a closed door, his eyes blazing, "shut UP!"

She turned her yellowed face toward him, eyes bulging with anger, "Yooou! Blood traitor, abomination, shame of my flesh!"

"I said -- shut -- UP!" Sirius roared, pulling with all his might -- with Lupin's assistant -- and forcing the curtains closed.

"I'm sorry, oh sweet Merlin, I'm so sorry," Tonks breathed. Amisty nodded, her ears still ringing slightly as she struggled to clear her vision.

"Hello, Harry," Sirius greeted his godson, voice surly. "I see you've met my mother."

"Your -- " Harry started, staring.

"My dear old mum, yeah. We've been trying to get her down for a month but we think she put a Permanent Sticking Charm on the back of the canvas. Let's get downstairs, quick, before they all wake up again," Sirius urged, leading the way down toward the kitchen.

Hermione held Amisty's arm, clearly itching to get to the kitchen where magic could be used.

She was struggling to hear exactly what was going on. Never a good thing when she relied on her hearing ninety percent of the time.

"But what's a portrait of your mother doing here?" Harry asked, trailing behind.

"Hasn't anyone told you? This is my parents' house. But I'm the last Black left, so it's mine now. I offered it to Dumbledore for headquarters -- " He scowled faintly. " -- about the only useful thing I've been able to do."

They pushed open the door of the kitchen, finding the table covered in heaps of parchment, goblets, a pile of rags, half-empty wine bottles, and Mr. Weasley and Bill talking at the end of the table.

Mrs. Weasley cleared her throat, and the two of them looked up suddenly.

"Harry! Good to see you!" Mr. Weasley exclaimed, rushing forward and shaking his hand.