This is the first (of five) chapters of a fanfiction focused on Elladora Black. For those who do not know who is she here's a little bio: Elladora Black (1850 – 1931) was a pure-blood witch, member of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black. Elladora instituted the policy of cutting off the heads of the family house-elves and mounting them on the wall once they became too old to carry a tea tray, as well trying to legalise a Muggle-hunting policy through the Ministry.

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The Ups and Downs of Elladora Black's Life

Part One: Early Years

Elladora Alhena Black was born on the thirteenth of September 1850. Perhaps her life was what it as because of the date, Friday 13, or maybe not but that is unimportant in the end.

Her parents were Cygnus and Ella Black. Their marriage, like most at that time, was an arrange one. The two had met on Ella's fifteenth birthday (Cygnus was nineteen) and wed three years later, a month after she had graduated from Hogwarts. It was a beautiful and grand ceremony, befitting the Most Noble and Ancient Houses of Black and Max. Two years later their first child was born – Sirius Cygnus Black. He was named after the brightest star on the sky with hopes that he would burn brighter and lead the House of Black to greatness.

It was a sad day for the family, when the young heir fell ill and all healers concluded that he would not live to see his Hogwarts letter. The boy was barely a year old.

Thankfully, about a month later, the future Lady Black found out that she was with a child again. She gave birth to Phineas Nigellus Black six weeks earlier, on a cold winter day. The boy, while premature, was healthy and his parents swore to do everything to keep him that way.

As years went by, the new heir grew into an adorable child, sheltered from all harm that could befall him. But, as healthy and happy he was, his older brother grew sicker and sicker. Sirius was a cheerful and curios child and wanted to learn everything that was there to know. However, he tired quickly, coughed all the time and rarely left the house. Cygnus and Ella watched him with worry, hoping beyond hope that one day he would wake up healthy.

It was early April and the year 1850, when the Black family realized that soon it would grow once more. The usual celebrations happened and the couple hoped that the new child would be healthy. Later, Ella would remember wishing for a baby girl, a little witch she could dress up and teach. While she loved her boys, very much so, there was something missing, something that a daughter might fix.

Elladora was born six days later than expected. She had a mop of black hair and her eyes, unlike her brothers', were in a very dark shade of blue. And thus, our story begins…

The first thing Elladora (or Dora as the boys had always called her) remembered was the birth of her sister (and the last child of Cygnus and Ella Black). Isla Black entered the world on the day of the summer solstice 1854. This was not a happy memory for the older girl. Until that day, she had been the only girl in the house and Mammon's favorite. It was true that Papa paid more attention to Phineas, who was six and a half, but she was Maman's little witch and that was it.

The girl knew the once she had had another brother and if she tried she could picture a tired (because Sirius was always tired) face, that would smile at her and if Dora really tried, she could hear his quiet laughter and an almost whispered 'Hello, little Dora,' but that was all. One day, even that would be forgotten.

The day of Isla's birth, however, she would remember for years to come. Well, not the day per say, but what came after it. Maman stopped paying attention to her, she would be with Isla and even Papa would go and visit the baby more often than he would visit her. Papa was a busy man, he didn't spend much time home, and the little he had was always with her new sister. The house elves were instructed to help the baby first and Dora latter, which made her feel angry and abandoned.

The three-year-old couldn't understand what was so special about Isla, anyway. She was a baby, a pink, squishy thing that couldn't walk or talk, or even feed itself. Never mind that Dora still couldn't hold the fork and the spoon right, at least she didn't cry every time something didn't go her way, thank you very much.

The only person in the house who was kind of on her side was Phineas. He too, didn't find anything interesting in the new addition to the family and preferred to ignore her existence. But he ignored almost everything, anyway. Unlike his sister, the boy remembered his older brother well enough to miss him. After Sirius' death, he had cried for days and refused to leave his room for nearly a month. And even half a year later he would still spent his free time thinking about the older boy.

Phineas didn't much care for the baby, Elladora had been the same, or for the girl's mopping around. He didn't care for many things, actually, only for his studies and the album with old photos. At the age of six, the boy had decided that he would one day be great and remembered for the generations to come. He would do that to honor Sirius, who had been, in his opinion, destined for greatness.

The first of March was a date Dora would never forget. She was six and according to many, a proper young lady. Ever since her birthday, she had started attending dancing lessons with other girls and new the alphabet, the numbers, could read simple stories and even had memorized her family tree for five generations back. Her black hair was naturally curled and run down to her mid-back; she had pale skin and dark eyes. Some called her a porcelain doll and ever since she understood the meaning, she swore secretly to be anything but.

It had been a cold winter and even with warming charms and always-burning fireplaces, Black Manor was a cold place for several months. The only consolation those living in it had, was that many had it worst. The winter of 1855 and 1856 was one of the coldest and longest the British Islands had seen in years. The thick stone walls did little to keep the warmth it and going outside was not even an option. The house elves did their best to clean the mansion and banish the cold but they had little success.

It was during this winter when Ella Black got ill. Through the months, she kept getting worst and worst. Her once beautiful pale skin became a sickly yellow color; her lips turned almost grey. The dark curled locks that so any witches had envied, were no more.

As the days became weeks and the weeks – months, it became clear that she would not get better. By the end of January Ella started coughing and a week later her temperature was permanently high. She could not keep any food and had no appetite. Her energy left her and Cygnus heart broke a little bit more every day. His beloved wife was dying, just like their little Sirius and all Healers and Med-wizards could do nothing but ease her pain.

Two minutes after midnight, Ella Georgiana Black, nee Max took her last breath after months of suffering. By the end of her life, the poor woman could not recognize even her closest people.

Dora, of course, knew that Maman was ill but, in her six-year-old brain, she believed that Maman would get better and they would play and dance, and draw pictures together again. It was not meant to be. The middle Black child remember being woken up by Phineas, whose eyes were red and puffy and told, with a shaky voice that Maman was with Sirius in the Magicaenow and would not come back. The nine-year-old boy left her room with scratch marks on his face and neck.

She could not believe it. How could Maman be gone? Did she not love them anymore? Did she love brother Sirius more, was that way she left them, left her? Why? Why? Why?

Dora wanted Maman back. Wanted to be hugged by her, to play with her, to be with her. Will she forget Maman like she forgot brother Sirius? At least he deserved to be forgotten, tough Dora snidely, if he took Maman away from her.

She was crying. Why was she crying? Crying was for the weak, for the non-Blacks. The girl told herself to stop but then why did the tears just kept rolling down her cheeks? Where was Maman to kiss her and make everything better? Why did she have to leave? Why? Why? Why?

Sometime during the day, Dora had to have cried herself to sleep because it was dark when Phineas was shaking her. He no longer had scratches but it was not difficult for someone to heal them.

"Grandmother and Grandfather Max are here and want to see you," he said with no emotion. "Make yourself presentable," and with that he left the room. A house elf popped in a second later. It was one of the new once, Missy or something like that. She, or was it a he, the all looked like each other, was relatively small (smaller than the others of her kind) and wore the dark tunic-like uniform that all house elves that belonged to the House of Black had.

"I is to assist young Mistress with dressing up," Missy-or-something said in the typical squeaky voice that all elves had after bowing deeply. Dora liked it when the creatures bowed to her and submit to her every wish. It made her fill strong.

This is the last thing Dora remembered from that trice cursed day and week, actually. If pressed, she could recall her black dress robe and Papa's tear-stained face, and Phineas' red eyes, and a bunch of tall figures dresses in Black, and Maman lying in the big white box (a marble coffin she would learn later), frozen and cold. Maman looked like she had before the winter and the illness. Her skin was pale, but not in a sick way, her hair was shiny and curled, her lips – red. She did not look alive, but rather like a statue.

For years that image would haunt Dora's dreams – her mother lying still, unearthly beautiful and cold. Every time she would open her eyes and the beautiful crystal blue that no artist had ever managed to capture on a canvas, would be glassy and dull. Dream-Maman's voice would not be the gentle one Dora remembered but it would be raspy as if coming from a place far, far away. The she would stand up from her coffin and lay her hand on Dora's cheek. It would be cold, like ice, hard and smooth, like the marble she had been laying. After that, Maman's beauty would disappear. The palm would be warm, almost hot, and sweaty. The voice that had been whispering 'My little witch' would become softer and quieter, and tired. For the first time she would take a breath and then another, and another. Many, many short and raspy breaths. Her skin would turn yellow and her hair would lose its shine. Only the eyes would stay the same – glassy, dull and distant. Then she would start rotting, pieces of her flesh would fall on the ground, hairs would follow and soon Maman would look like a monster. Only those glassy eyes would stay on her skull, staring at Dora, the bony palm on her cheek and the raspy unearthly voice whispering. Then Maman, like she had looked like on her funeral, would be back in the coffin, beautiful and cold. Then Dora would wake up, sometimes screaming, sometimes not.

Years would pass uninterrupted after that tragedy. Two years latter Phineas would go to Hogwarts and return with stories about it and a happy smile Dora could not remember seeing on his face before.

Isla would grow up a little and, while still a baby, would become kind of (but not really) a companion. Dora hated her sometimes because Isla had Maman's eyes, the only sibling and for that, Papa would like her more and pay attention to her and not to Dora. But just like her sister, she would grow up and know not to voice her complains because it was unbecoming for a Black to be jealous even from one's sister.

It would take years for Papa to get over Maman's death, to get back to what he used to be. Even then, there would be times when he would stare at something and nothing and do not move an inch for hours.