A/N: This was unintentionally inspired by "Mother knows best" from Rapunzel. Enjoy!
Sources don't agree on names and dates for the Black family. These are the ones that I will be using for this fic. Therefore, the name Iola will be used instead of Isla, and Sirius' death will occur in 1851 instead of 1853.
Cygnus Black: 1829-1851
Ella Black née Max; 1833-1871
Sirius Black: 1845-1851
Phineas Nigellus Black: 1847-1925
Elladora Black: 1850-1931
Iola Black: 1852-1873
WC: 2,985
WARNINGS: Mentions death, madness
Betas: Ash Juillet (thank you!)
~~ beautiful stars burn quickly ~~
"I have love in me the likes of which you can scarcely imagine and rage the likes of which you would not believe. If I cannot satisfy the one, I will indulge the other."
- Mary Shelley, Frankenstein
Phineas watches his sister dab her eyes with a black handkerchief, but he knows she isn't crying out of sadness. He has his head bowed in front of the tomb: a gaping hole, with only a small urn at the bottom. The urn looks ridiculous in this dark mouth that demands to be fed.
Phineas chuckles at the morbid metaphor and the old lady next to him gives him a strange look, so he does his best to cover his laughter with a cough, and maybe a tear or two. This seems to be enough to mollify her, and she looks at him with pity in her eyes.
"I'm so sorry," the lady says, "losing your sister like that."
Elladora sniffs loudly, still over-playing her role. "It'll be okay," she manages through a teary voice. "We'll get through it."
"Don't hesitate to owl if you need anything," the woman, probably a relative, adds kindly.
"Thank you," Phineas replies, but turns his back to is supposed to be a moment of solitary mourning.
Thankfully, the old bat gets the message and walks over to some other relative. They talk low, probably pitying them some more. Something like: "Oh, those poor dears," or maybe "Iola was so beautiful".
He's only imagining this, but it's what he hopes they're all saying. It's what Elladora and him have been trying to achieve.
The tombstones in front of him read Cygnus Black, Sirius Black, Ella Black née Max and finally, the newest inscription: Iola Black. They have even added 'Beautiful stars burn quickly', just to make it convincing.
That's exactly what all the people who have come to the funeral expect to see on Iola's tomb; she was the most beautiful of them all, and that's all they ever saw of her.
It feels like it was always supposed to be Iola's epigraph. It makes sense. But perhaps, under different circumstances, they would have had it engraved as a sign of deep love, and terrible mourning. After all, Phineas had a strong affection for both his sisters once upon a time, so strong people couldn't quite comprehend, or even imagine it.
Instead, those words have been burnt into the stone with as much hatred as possible.
Phineas can't help but think he should have listened to Mother. Mother, who was a Black only by marriage. Mother, who didn't share the same love as he and his siblings did.
Mother was delirious. She almost always was, nowadays.
"Phineas, Phineas!" she beckoned him the moment he came into her room.
He quickly made his way to the chair she spent her days in, reading, embroidering, complaining. "Yes, Mother?"
"I've found it, I've found it!" she exclaimed. There was a mad glint in her eye, and she was sweating profusely.
"What have you found, Mother?" Phineas asked calmly as he dabbed her forehead with a cool cloth.
Mother didn't like it when the elves took care of her; she said she didn't trust them. That was why Phineas, aged only twelve, had to take care of her whenever he was home from Hogwarts, as he had done since he was eight and Mother's illness had taken a turn for the worse.
"Close the window!" she ordered.
Phineas hesitated. It was a lovely day out, and the fresh air would do her good, but he decided it would be better to obey. He made his way to the window and peered through it. Elladora and Iola were laughing outside, under the warm summer sun. He smiled at his sisters before closing it and turning back to Mother.
"What's wrong, Mother?" he asked.
"I know the reason why your Father died, why Sirius died, why I'm dying," she told him, dead serious.
Phineas raised an eyebrow. Sirius had contracted pneumonia, a Muggle illness. They'd passed it off as Dragon Pox. They were far too ashamed of the mundane way he'd died.
As for Father, he died of grief; Sirius was his favourite, his little gem. But that was a terribly Muggle way to die. A pureblood was above excess, of grief or anything else. They told whoever asked that he'd caught the Dragon Pox from Sirius.
And Mother. They didn't know what was wrong with Mother. A small part of Phineas believed she'd made herself sick, driving herself mad with dark thoughts, trying to blame her husband and son's death on someone.
"What is it Mother?" he asked, impassively.
Mother shot a nervous glance around the room as if to check no one was listening. There was no one apart from the paintings. She whispered something, so very quietly he couldn't hear what she said.
Mother never whispered. She always spoke as loud as she could, as if she was the centre of the universe. And yet, he couldn't hear what she was saying.
"Pardon?"
"It's Iola," Mother said a little louder, but not daring to raise her voice. It was still that secretive tone.
"Iola?" he exclaimed.
"Shush!" she cried. "She could hear you!"
Phineas frowned. Mother was being completely illogical. Iola was outside, the window was closed. Furthermore, she was a darling little eight-year-old girl, who loved sunshine and baby rabbits. As a matter of fact, despite the love he bore for her, Phineas found her a little infuriating, with her contagious good humour. But she was by no means a threat.
"Mother, don't be absurd," he told her.
"But Phineas, it all makes sense!" she continued. She started to ramble. "She's a curse, that girl, you've got to watch out for her—"
He let her talk on, not paying attention to a word she was saying. Pressing a hand to her forehead, he realised her fever had gone up once again. The madness in her eyes was burning up her soul.
"Now, now Mother. You need to rest." He got her up from her chair and started to lead her towards her bed.
"But Phineas, you have to listen to me! Iola—"
"Rest, Mother."
He left after those harsh words. Once he had closed the door, he could hear her sobbing. He sighed and made his way outside, to meet his sisters.
"Is Mother alright?" Iola asked, concerned, as soon as she saw him.
"She's okay," he lied. He didn't want to worry Iola. She smiled brightly and laughed, showing him the bouquet of violets she made for him.
How could anyone believe she could harm anyone?"
He should have listened to Mother. There used to be love, but now there is nothing but rage when he thinks about his dead sister.
Elladora brings her veil up as the people finally begin to leave the cemetery. She wonders if the wizard officiating the funeral could tell the difference, if he could tell the spells for the dead weren't working. They only work with human ashes, after all.
Thankfully, almost everyone is gone and she can stop pretending that she's devastated. Elladora was never very good at acting. It doesn't suit her well, but she'll do what is needed, what her brother asks of her. She is a Black after all, and there's a bond between them, a love so strong that you can't just do anything you please.
Iola didn't understand that.
"Phineas, may we leave?" she asks her brother.
"Not quite yet," he murmurs. "They'll expect us to stay a little while longer."
She sighs. She's got better things to do. They're holding a ball in a month and she has so many things left to do, and the funeral is complicating things. She's going to have to wear black, instead of the lovely green gown she bought especially for the ball.
Phineas warned her that she might not even be able to throw the ball. After all, they are supposed to be mourning. But she negotiated, said it would look good if she showed she was slowly getting over it, being strong a Black is supposed to be, and Phineas finally agreed. She knew he would: he can't deny her anything, the same way she obeys his every command.
Elladora looks at the tomb again. The dirt has been stacked up; there's no way to get the urn back. She hopes it's dry and barren so that no flowers grow upon it. Iola, or what is supposed to be Iola, doesn't deserve flowers anymore, not even the violets she dearly loved.
Elladora sneers at the dates: 1852-1873. Two years younger than her, Iola was her playmate, best friend, and sister. Sometimes, she resented her, because Iola was simply beautiful the way Elladora wasn't. She'd get all the compliments and the flowers, but would thankfully fade in the background once people tired of her obnoxious looks, and she would be Elladora's again.
She didn't think Iola would ever betray them, but Mother knew better. She'd tried to warn her. But Elladora had never cared much for Mother, hadn't loved her the way she loved Phineas. Mother was always just the sickly woman they had to drag along.
Elladora should've listened. But it's too late now.
It was the first holiday Elladora was home without her brother and sister. Phineas had to stay at school, as it was his first year as Headmaster, and Iola had chosen to stay, something about exams, which was absurd because she was only a Third Year. Elladora was severely disappointed.
She would have chosen to stay too if Phineas hadn't begged her to go home and take care of Mother, whose condition was worsening every day.
She hated it: there were all those unnerving house-elves, who never did anything the way she wanted and refused to cry when she hit them. And of course, there was also Mother, who drove her crazy. She always wanted Elladora near her, helping her, feeding her.
Elladora pushed Mother's door open and came inside. The curtains were drawn around her bed. Mother said she couldn't bear to have anyone watching her so the paintings were all covered. It was dark in her room, despite the bright, cold sunny day outside.
"Elladora? Is that you?" Mother croaked from her bed.
"Yes, Mother. It's always me," Elladora said, trying to be as neutral as possible. In truth, she was bored out of her mind and couldn't wait for her mother to leave her alone.
"I need to tell you something."
"Of course, Mother," she replied, but continued to do her chores around the room; changing the water, checking on the fire.
"No!" Mother exclaimed. It was feeble but the anger in her voice was palpable. Elladora paused in the middle of her action. "Come here."
Elladora walked over to her. "What is it, Mother?" Her tone bordered on impertinent, as she drew open the curtains around the bed. Mother flinched, as if the tiny light from the candle Elladora had lighted was hurting her eyes.
Mother looked pale. And there was something in her eyes, a sort of burning the Healers attributed to fever, but Elladora knew was madness. Her pale hair was in a halo around her, like a ghost straight out of a novel.
"Is your sister here?" Mother demanded.
"Iola?" Elladora asked, surprised. Mother never mentioned Iola. She would often complain about Phineas' absence, but it was like Iola didn't exist for her.
"Yes." Suddenly, a great hatred, a great fear, filled her already crazed eyes and Elladora recoiled.
"She's at Hogwarts, Mother."
She glared at her as if she didn't trust what she had said. Then, her voice dropped to a whisper. "She's poison, that girl."
Elladora shuddered. Mother seldom whispered. When her throat was weary, she would croak commands from her bed. But this whisper was intentional, purposely low and quiet so that it could slither into Elladora's heart unnoticed.
"What do you mean?"
"She killed your brother," Mother continued to whisper.
Elladora frowned. Killed Sirius? Impossible, Iola wasn't even born yet.
"Your father, too, and she's now trying to kill me!" Mother continued. Her voice was almost desperate now, and Elladora knew she was having another fit. She had them from time to time.
"Mother…"
"She's going to try to bring you down, too!" She was completely out of her mind. Iola couldn't hurt a fly, let alone her darling brother and sister.
"Calm down, Mother," Elladora said, and already she was retreating from Mother's bed. She didn't want to spend another moment with this crazed woman. She would take care of her, but she wouldn't deal with any of this nonsense.
"Elladora!" Mother exclaimed, but her voice still hasn't risen above a whisper. "Listen to me!"
Elladora rushed out of the room. Mother scared her when she was like this.
Now, she knows that Iola was indeed bringing them down. Now, she knows what Mother meant, but it's too late. Her hands twist the handkerchief as if it was Iola she was strangling. She spits at the tomb. Her rage burns inside, and she desperately wants to hit a house-elf.
"Can we go now?" she demands.
"We can," Phineas says.
Elladora is more than glad to leave. Iola is gone for her, now. She hopes it'll be enough to keep her away. If the girl knows anything, she'll never come back. There is no more place in Elladora's heart for love, it's consumed by anger.
She should've listened to Mother.
"Oh, Merlin, I can't believe it." Iola laughs bitterly. "They've buried me."
"Darling," Bob starts next to her.
But Iola just glares at him, so he doesn't say a word more. She's unimaginably furious, in a way she's never been angry before. But her rage isn't directed at Bob, and it isn't fair she's barking at him. Kindly, he squeezes her hand, and already she feels a little better.
But still, they've buried her.
She makes her way over to her own tomb.
Iola Black
1852-1873
Beautiful stars burn quickly.
Once again, she laughs. But it's so that she doesn't cry. She wonders what they buried instead of her. Ashes? Probably. But what did they burn instead of her body? Her clothes, her possessions? Another body? She wouldn't put it above Elladora to do such a thing.
She didn't think they would do this, that they would be so harsh. Iola knew they wouldn't exactly open Bob with open arms, but perhaps with time, they would've accepted him. But they had that terrible argument, and Phineas burned her name off the tapestry. It felt like someone had ripped her heart out of her chest.
She always thought the three of them loved each other in ways people couldn't imagine, and therefore, they would understand her love for Bob. But they were so ashamed of her, they didn't even want to admit she had eloped with a Muggle. Only erasing her from the Wizarding world altogether was enough for them.
It isn't exactly as if she can come back from the dead, now.
"Iola," Bob says, compassion in his voice.
Iola turns to him and buries her head in her shoulder, letting the tears flow freely. Not only does she no longer have a family, she can't even be a witch anymore.
She should've known. Mother warned her, but she didn't listen.
Mother was dying, they all knew it. It was going to be within the night, so the three of them had taken to sleeping by her bedside, even Iola.
Only Iola was awake, right now. Phineas and Elladora had dozed off a while ago. If Mother was still lucid enough to make out people, she probably would've ordered Iola out. For some reason, Mother hated Iola desperately, and couldn't bear the sight of her.
"Iola."
Iola almost jumped out of her seat. Had Mother just called her name? It was barely above a whisper.
"Mother?" Iola asked, her voice full of hope. Mother never spoke to her.
"You need—you need to leave now," Mother whispered. Reason told Iola that Mother was whispering so that her siblings wouldn't hear them. But some deeper part of her believed that this was actually a threat, so much more menacing when spoken low.
"Leave?" Iola echoed.
"And never come back." Her voice was suddenly so full of rage, Iola shuddered.
"Or they will kill you."
Iola blanched, but it was illogical. Phineas and Elladora would never kill her. Family was precious. That was what she had been taught. They would never hurt her.
"Mother," Iola said, bringing her hand to her mother's shoulder.
"Don't touch me, you viper!" Mother exclaimed.
Iola recoiled and Mother glared at her, but suddenly slumped back onto her pillow and moaned a little. Iola couldn't comprehend what was happening. Why was Mother telling her this? And that hatred in her eyes… Did Mother truly want her to leave?
"Iola?" Phineas said from the chair next to her, rubbing his eyes. "Is everything okay?"
"All is fine," she replied, but her hands were shaking.
Phineas gave her a small smile, and Iola was reassured. Her brother and sister would never kill her, that was absurd. They loved her far too much.
But now, she knows better. She threatened the Black name, by marrying a Muggle, so they have killed her. She should have left when Mother told her. Disappeared the way Mother wished her to do.
Now, it's too late. It's far too late, and now what used to be love has turned into a rage Bob couldn't possibly understand.
Bob kisses her gently on the forehead. "Everything alright, my darling?"
"I'm fine," Iola whispers. "We should probably leave."
Iola turns her back on her tomb. She hates her family, she hates them. She should've listened to Mother. They all should've listened to Mother.
For the Quidditch League Fanfiction Competition
Team: Puddlemere United
Position: CHASER 3 - The Castle of Otranto by Horace Walpole: Write about someone who ignores an important warning
Optional prompts: (quote) "I have love in me the likes of which you can scarcely imagine and rage the likes of which you would not believe. If I cannot satisfy the one, I will indulge the other." - Mary Shelley, Frankenstein, (plot point) a funeral, (word) whisper