Owl from Melantha Rosier Black to Merope Black, dated 12 September 1942...
Appropriately warded and sealed and bearing the Black family crest:
My dear Merope,
I have been hearing the most appalling things about what has been going on at Hogwarts. Your father and your uncle Acrux say that there will be a meeting of the Governors soon; although the Malfoys are fighting amongst themselves as to who will be leading it, I do think Gabrielle Lestrange will have to defer to Dracaena, for even though Dracaena is a shocking person and has always been, the land has chosen her-and Fortune and Kyteler, who are equally scandalous themselves, quite naturally support her in all that she does.
Of course we are not in the best of humour at all with the Malfoys at the moment, as your cousin Yvon has finally chosen to return to his own good name, and it turns out that Dracaena has been keeping him for all these years. Gabrielle swears she longed to tell us, but because of the Fidelius, she could not. Elladora and Gloriana are fighting like cats about whether or not he should be removed from the tapestry, since he still has not called upon us and apparently chooses to remove himself from the family. Not that there is any point in it since he was born a Malfoy.
I’ve always said that nothing good has ever come out of any alliance between the Blacks and the Malfoys, who think they are purebloods as long as they don’t have children with actual Muggles or Mudbloods, even though they lie down with faeries of all kinds-and of course, Dracaena does have a daughter by a Mudblood, whom she not only acknowledges but has adopted.
Of course I suppose she is desperate for heirs, since she cannot have her own; she stole your cousin from his mother’s arms and look how he turned out-there’s certainly no shame in being a healer, my sister is married to Jameson Wilkes, for all Elladora’s wailing that he works!!! for money!!! but apparently he’s taken up with a Mudblood of his very own, because Servilia Bolingbroke-Warrington’s seen them out and about together, and Helena Baddock made quite a cake of herself over it. (I suppose even for new blood like the Baddocks, it must be something to be thrown over for a Mudblood. Maybe he’ll redeem himself and marry Arianwen though; that’s what your aunt Julissa thinks he may do. I expect after what she has done with this Gresham person, nobody else of distinction would have her.)
But enough gossip. I am dreadfully worried about this plague of dead girls, especially given that Giselle de Rais was of quite a good lineage and engaged to be married; she can hardly have been unhappy enough to commit suicide, no matter what Servilia and Gabrielle and that awful Mrs Parkinson say. I know nothing about the Jeannots, of course. But you must be careful and not go wandering about by yourself late at night as you so love to do. I cannot bear the thought that whatever it is that’s about might think you an appropriate target, and even though it has a taste for Ravenclaws, the good lord knows that you wander around in a haze of your own thoughts so often I’d thought you might Sort there yourself.
Promise me that you are not going out alone at night to the Astronomy Tower, and that you go only in the company of persons who are trustworthy.
I know you will not be able to do very much for Mira, but tell me, does she at least have a decent prefect? McGonagall’s daughter is Head Girl, and while those people are very plain-spoken they are well-bred. I do hope her prefect is not a Mudblood or a Weasley. She hasn’t once set quill to parchment, and Mrs Walsingham told me that the first-years are playing cricket these days. I hope you’ll make it clear to Mira that she is expected to go to Sunday tea, as you should yourself, and that she is not to ruin her complexion running around out of doors playing Muggle games, no matter what sort of foolishness her roommates are allowed to get up to.
Do take care my dear. I hope the Inquisition will be able to sort things out. The Goyles are terribly odd, they always have been, but they get things done, which is why the Malfoys employ them. I shall certainly tell Dracaena Malfoy I expect an improvement, though of course it will be your uncle Acrux who speaks at the actual meeting.
All my love,
your Mother
PS: You are not wearing those old robes of yours, are you? And I hope you are not wearing your uniform on Sundays? You must be seen in pleasant colours, and be sure to show up for tea every day, and listen when the boys talk, even if you are not interested. I know that they seem very silly, and perhaps they always will. But you do want more from life than the observatory, even if you think you don’t, and you have a duty to your blood, otherwise we shall end up as the Malfoys have done, with only four of them who bear the name and one of them half-Mudblood.