Quick Learners

Six years later, Phineas Black stood on Platform Nine-and-Three-Quarters, feeling rather lost and lonely despite his self-important air. He'd been Apparated into the station by one of the house-elves, but Topsy had had to hurry back to tend to Mistress, and Phineas was left alone.

All around him were laughing, chattering students who towered over him. Phineas hadn't known people could even get so big. He was taller than his little sisters, and already nearly as tall as his mother – or so she said. Phineas hadn't seen her standing up for a long time, so he couldn't be sure.

He thrust his chin out proudly. He wasn't going to just stand here looking foolish. He was well on his way to being a full-grown wizard – he even had a wand, elm and phoenix feather, eleven-and-a-half inches, rigid. He wasn't a baby any more.

Little Sirius, he reminded himself, had never had a wand.

He was four years older than his brother ever would be, the first in his family to set off to Hogwarts, away from his frail mother and silly little Iola. And away from Elladora, which was a shame: his sister was his best friend, but she'd be along to Hogwarts in a few years too. It was all going to be better now.

Setting his jaw, he seized his trunk and marched onto the train.

-B-

"Who are you?" asked the boy, looking Phineas up and down. His tone wasn't rude, just mildly curious, but Phineas still bristled.

"I am Phineas Nigellus Black," he said stiffly, already regretting entering the compartment. The boys looked around his own age, which was what had drawn him to them, but they all seemed to know each other already. He was preparing to stalk out of the compartment again, but then the same boy spoke.

"Your name's Black? Really?"

"My father told me about your family," said another. "He said he went to school with your father."

"And you're really rich, and you can trace your ancestors back eight centuries."

"I can," said Phineas, flushed with pride. "We've got a tapestry with our family tree embroidered on."

"And my father said no Black has ever married a Muggle or Mudblood," said another boy.

"I – I don't think so," Phineas stammered. "Why? Is that – good?"

The boys all laughed. "You don't know much, do you?" said the boy who'd last spoken. He was tall for an eleven-year-old, with fine wool robes and whitish-blond hair. "Muggles and Mudbloods are scum. They pollute wizarding lines. My father says they should all be exterminated."

"My uncle wants to make Muggle-hunting legal," piped up another boy. "He says the Ministry's too soft-hearted."

"It is," agreed the blond boy, who seemed to be the ringleader of the little group. "But we've got to be careful not to break the International Statute of Secrecy, after all." He looked up and noticed Phineas still standing awkwardly in the doorway, and grinned. "We're being rude, boys. Sit down, Phineas Nigellus Black. I'm Julius Malfoy."

"Pleasure," said Phineas, shaking the other's hand. Names started coming thick and fast. It seemed everyone wanted to get to know him.

"Drusus Rosier."

"William Avery."

"Henry Parkinson."

It turned out he slotted easily enough into their group, after all, though as the train ride wore on he realised that the other boys all had a proper set of parents, instead of a dead father and a sick mother who never showed any interest in them. Rosier mentioned how everyone had supposed the Blacks had vanished or moved abroad when Little Sirius didn't show up at Hogwarts, and Phineas said, lifting his chin a little, "My brother's dead. I'm the family's heir now."

And, to his relief, they all looked at him with awe rather than pity.

-B-

Phineas was a quick learner. He always had been, back with his tutors at home, in lessons with Little Sirius and later with Elladora. The Sorting Hat noted this with approval: A fine mind, my boy, a very fine mind, but a thirst to prove yourself as well... you'll do quite nicely in SLYTHERIN!

All the boys Phineas had met on the train were Sorted into Slytherin as well, and despite his lack of any social graces whatsoever and his bumbling awkwardness and his unfamiliarity with half the things they talked about, they still wanted to be his friends. It was an odd and exciting feeling. For so long, his only friend had been Elladora.

He wrote to her, often, but school was too exciting to spend much time missing his sister. He was a very quick learner, one of the best in his class in practically every subject, and he discovered that his brand of quiet observation came in useful for more than just studying.

He was good at learning how to fit in with the other boys, good at acting like the proud pure-blood they all expected him to be. He learned quickly to turn up his nose like they did when they saw a Mudblood, and he began to drop hints about his unblemished ancestry, the way they did.

All the while, he tried to suppress the bubbling anger in his stomach.

Before he knew it his first term was over and he was headed back home to London on the train. All his friends were looking forward to magnificent Christmas parties and a week of balls every night during which everyone who was anyone would be present, eager to court the finest old families and their scions. Phineas was sensible enough to know that Avery and Parkinson and even haughty, poised Malfoy would be tucked up safe in bed during these revelries. All the same, it stung to think that he was going home to a tired old household where he was the one in charge.

And that wasn't nearly as much fun as the others thought.

On Christmas night, while other people's mothers were acting as gracious, beautiful hostesses in shining robes, Phineas' mother left the dinner table early, apparently unable to stomach any more of the rich food. On New Year's Eve, when his friends were watching the festivities from the railings of their staircases, or at least having one of the much-resented "children's parties" in a sitting room, Phineas and his sisters were sent early to bed.

Phineas crept into the girls' room, though, to find that Iola was playing with her stuffed toys and Elladora was sitting on her bed, brushing out her long black curls. She was only nine, Elladora, but there was an elegance to her, a touch of aristocracy in even the commonest things she did. There should have been a maid doing her hair for her, and Phineas felt a stab of irritation at Mother for neglecting it, as she did everything in the house. But Elladora attended to the task with such disdainful dignity that Phineas thought, No one could be ashamed of her.

He could well be embarrassed by his lonely family life, and his mother who was too sick to care about anything, but he could show his sister to his friends and hold his head high. She was a credit to them all.

"Here," he said, "let me," and as he sat and drew the brush through Elladora's hair, he told his sisters about how their lives would change when he was older, how he'd hold fabulous coming-of-age balls for them when they turned seventeen, how their house would ring with music and laughter, how everyone would stare in awe when they walked through school.

"That's what the Blacks used to be like," he explained. "But then Father died and Mother got sick and it all went wrong. But I'll make our name great again. I swear it."

-B-

"Elladora! Come on!"

Elladora jumped. "I'm coming!" she called, turning back to Iola, who was watching her with tears sparkling in her eyes. Iola was the only one of them with Mother's green eyes, and while on Mother they were gentle and unremarkable, on Iola they were always sharp, always noticing too much.

"Come on, Iola," she said. "Don't be a baby. Two more years and then you can come, too."

Iola sniffled. "I'll miss you, Dora."

"I—" Elladora hesitated. She'd never been a great liar. The truth was that she'd been aching to leave for school ever since Phineas had come back from his first term at Hogwarts, to see this wonderful place where adults were in charge and you could have actual friends who respected you. She wasn't going to miss her annoying baby sister. So she just said, "I'll see you soon, Iola."

They were none of them very demonstrative, but she reached out to squeeze her sister's shoulder quickly.

"Elladora!" Phineas shouted again, and she hurried downstairs.

-B-

"I'm so very proud of how well you're both doing at school," Mama was saying, smiling at her two older children. Neither of them smiled back, and Iola hid a frown. Couldn't they see how hard she was trying?

"What are your favourite subjects?" Mama tried again. "Phineas, your O.W.L.s are coming up soon—"

"Not for more than a year," Phineas muttered, and Iola sighed. She hardly ever got to spend time with Mama, and she'd made a special effort to come downstairs just because Phineas and Elladora were home for the holidays, and now they were going to ruin the whole lovely meal that Iola had planned so carefully and Mama was going to have to rest for weeks before she could come downstairs again.

Of course, if it weren't for Iola, Mama wouldn't be sick in the first place.

She took a breath. No. She wouldn't think like that, she wouldn't. It had never been said to her in so many words, but her siblings were always implying it. But it wasn't her fault her birth had been so difficult.

"Come on, dear," Mama coaxed. "I'd just like to know a little more about you—"

Iola knew instantly that she'd chosen the wrong words. Elladora went very still, and Phineas' mouth twisted horribly. "Oh, you do, do you?" he said. His voice was very low and quiet, but somehow that only made the anger more terrible. "You'd like to know a bit more about what your children are doing at school? Why do you care all of a sudden? It's not like you spent any time preparing us before we left! I knew nothing about the way I was supposed to behave when I got there!" His voice was rising now. "You never taught us about our ancestry. You never warned us about Mudbloods – do you know, all the boys could tell them apart when we got to school, except me? You never took us to any of the parties they all go to. If it weren't for me this family wouldn't have any connections at all!"

"Phineas..." Iola moaned quietly. Mama had gone very white.

"You know," Phineas said, and his tone was conversational again, "other people's mothers care about them. They teach them about their place in the world. Other mothers wouldn't stand for any of this." An expansive gesture took in the dining room and was probably meant to encapsulate their lonely, isolated childhoods. "But we all know where your concerns lie. Little Sirius has been dead for ten years, Mother dearest. Mightn't it be about time you paid some attention to those of us who are still here?"

Iola was used to silence; she'd grown up in a quiet house, mostly left to her own devices, and she was by nature a softly-spoken child. But she'd never before known how loud a silence could be.

Phineas had pressed his lips tightly together, as if the barbs he had let fly had surprised even him. Elladora stared at the table. And Mama was crying. Iola had seen her cry before, on her long-dead father's birthday or whenever she saw Little Sirius' picture (which was often, because it occupied pride of place on her bedside table). But it had never been one of their faults before. Iola knew it was wrong to be angry with her brother, because he was fifteen years old and head of the family and Knew Best, but just at that moment she thought she might hate Phineas.

It was strange, she thought later, how much they still seemed to be in thrall to a brother who'd been dead longer than he'd ever lived.

-B-

For Iola, school wasn't the escape it had been for her siblings. That wasn't to say that she didn't like Hogwarts: she was fond of her professors, and of the girls in her beautiful green-and-silver dormitory, and of her lessons. It was nice, too, to be greeted with a awed look whenever she answered in the affirmative to the question, "Are you Phineas Black's sister?" It seemed Phineas had done what he'd promised and brought honour back to the name of Black. Iola still remembered his early years at school, when he'd come home bitter and sullen and full of envious tales about other boys' home lives.

Phineas wasn't of age yet, so he couldn't take full control of the inheritance their father had left for them in Gringotts, but he made sure that Elladora and Iola were always dressed finely, that they always had the best owls and the most expensive quills and the daintiest jewellery. Elladora loved it. She was two years ahead of Iola in school, and her little sister often saw her at the centre of her gaggle of friends, elegant and self-assured and a credit to our family, as Phineas always said.

And Iola... well, she didn't object as such to all the lovely gifts. She knew Phineas had worked very hard to claim the social standing that was their birthright. It was just that she wasn't as clever as Phineas, nor as beautiful as Elladora, and sometimes she wasn't sure she wanted all the attention she received.

Most of all, though, she worried about their mother. Ella Black was growing frailer, and though Phineas and Elladora apparently paid this no attention, Iola was concerned. Her mother had been distant and sad for as long as she could remember, but still, she was their mother. They owed it to her to take good care of her.

"Of course we will," Phineas scoffed when she mentioned this, uneasily. "D'you think I'd be seen to let my own mother die of neglect?"

Elladora was kinder. That was the story of her life, Iola felt sometimes: Phineas was curt with her, but Elladora was kind when she remembered to be. "We aren't forgetting her, Iola. I'm sure she'll live for many years yet. She's been sick—"

"Since I was born, I know," Iola said dully.

Elladora smiled gently at her. She was in a good mood today. "It's just the way these things turn out, darling," she said. Iola noticed she didn't say the whole affair wasn't Iola's fault. "Things go wrong in childbearing sometimes. It's a risk all women have to take. You'll have to, someday."

"Dora!" Iola protested. "I'm only twelve! But surely Mama should have recovered by now, anyway."

"If she wanted to," Elladora said, and then changed the subject.

-B-

When Elladora was fifteen, Phineas took her to a ball.

"It's a coming-of-age ball," he told her sternly. "For Julius Malfoy's sister. She's supposed to be very pretty and elegant, but I'm sure you can do her one better, can't you?"

He'd come of age himself a few months before, and now that he had full control of their inheritance, he'd taken her to Diagon Alley to buy some proper dress robes, pastel blue as befitted a young girl. Elladora wasn't sure where he'd learned all this. She'd been hoping to get something really bold, perhaps maroon or deep violet with a low-cut neckline, but he'd just raised his eyebrows and pointed her towards the girls' section of the shop. Perhaps he secretly read some of her fashion magazines.

Pastels weren't really Elladora's colour, with her black hair and eyes and ivory skin, but she thought she looked quite striking anyway. Iola brought her some of Mother's makeup, the expensive sort that magically adjusted itself to complement your clothes and skin tone, and did her hair and picked out her jewellery, and for a while it felt like they were having one of those sisters' nights her friends at school talked about.

"Come sit," she said, patting the stool beside hers at the dressing table. Iola scrambled to obey, and Elladora looked at the two faces in the mirror. Both were pale and wreathed by long dark curls, but Iola's face was still baby-round and soft while Elladora had already developed the high cheekbones common to Blacks. Still, they looked like sisters.

"It'll be you in a few years," she said, putting an arm around Iola's waist. "Getting all ready for your first proper party. You'll be the prettiest thing, darling."

"Oh no, Dora, you're much prettier than me," Iola protested, but she was dimpling a little under the compliment.

Phineas knocked at the door. "All ready, Elladora?" And when she went out to meet him, he nodded with cool satisfaction. "You look very sophisticated. Come now, we mustn't be late." That was Phineas, never wasting words. He held out his arm and when she took it, Disapparated.

Livia Malfoy was her brother Julius' twin, a classy sixth year with whom Elladora hadn't previously exchanged more than nods. Her parents were presenting her to every guest who arrived in the entrance hall, though, so Elladora had to hand over the small gift she'd brought and receive one of the poor girl's variations on "How very kind of you!"

Although Elladora was the one who'd given her the gift, Livia turned her dazzling smile on Phineas as she said this. He looked very uncomfortable for someone who'd been sharing classes with her for six years now, but he gave Livia a tight bow and led Elladora into the ballroom.

It was a good thing her brother had warned her not to gawk like a fool. Even so, Elladora had trouble stifling a gasp. She knew the Malfoys weren't any richer than the Blacks, but their manor in Wiltshire was so much more beautiful than Grimmauld Place: light, airy and spacious, with floor to ceiling windows that looked out over splendid manicured lawns.

The ballroom was lit with rich, warm candlelight, much finer than the candles that lit the Great Hall at Hogwarts. The floor was tiled with pale blues and greens that put Elladora in mind of the ocean. A great chandelier sparkled in the centre of the ceiling. Malfoy Manor looked like... like it was run by adults who knew how these things were done, instead of a pair of teenagers muddling along as best as they could. For a moment, she felt bitterness twisting in her stomach. Was this how Phineas had felt for all this time?

Perhaps he could sense her mess of emotions, for he pulled her close and whispered in her ear, "One day we'll be like this too, I promise." Then he strode across the ballroom, making for a tall blond boy talking to some other young men. As she drew closer, Elladora recognised Julius Malfoy.

"Malfoy," Phineas said. His tone was authoritative without being impolite. "May I present my sister Elladora?"

Julius turned. "Elladora," he said, and in his voice her name sounded musical. "I've waited so long for this pleasure."

He was very tall – taller than Phineas – with broad shoulders and muscled arms and clear, striking grey eyes. His hands were very gentle, though, and his lips very soft as they brushed the backs of her fingers briefly, formally, correctly (so there was absolutely no reason why Elladora should shiver at his touch).

"The pleasure's entirely mine, sir," she heard herself say, and although she was sure her face was on fire her words came out sounding cool and detached. Behind Julius' back, Phineas gave her an approving nod.

Just then, the band struck up a tune: something light and brisk, perfect for dancing. Elladora glanced over her shoulder and saw couples beginning to move out onto the dance floor, the women all in jewel-bright colours and the men in their dark formal robes. It was so beautiful, the most beautiful evening of her life so far, and she was hard-pressed not to laugh giddily when Julius asked her to dance.

He led her out into the very middle of the ballroom, the glittering chandelier casting gleaming patterns of light and dark across his handsome face. His hand at her waist seemed to burn through her layers of robes and undergarments all the way to her skin.

Phineas watched her thoughtfully for the rest of the evening.