Of Shrewdness and Wit
Cliche
Chapter 7
"I have to get the horcruxes before he can save them." Her hands wrung nervously, searching her counterpart's eyes with a desperate fervor. She wanted to hold him close, his achingly familiar face looked too tired for a boy of sixteen. Oh Harry, she thought.
"Harry," she paused and her twin looked away, biting his lip. "I have to do this Etta,, it's my destiny."
He turned from her, "I'm not going to take you with me."
There was a pause, and then her hands flew out to grab him and turn him around forcefully. She felt him flinch under the rough treatment and in the back of her mind she felt bad, but she was angry.
"Why not!? Harry, I can help! You know my magic is strong and I can hold myself in a duel—"
"—This isn't just a duel, Henrietta!" She stilled in shock from the use of her full name. Harry glared at her, hands clenched to his sides. "You can't try to shield me forever. I'm growing up Etta."
"I'm saying goodbye now, I don't know when I'll be back." Harry's face was blank, but she could see the stiffly held anger behind his mask.
"I just want to protect you." His eyes softened, and he made to reach her.
"I see." She jerked away from him, and didn't turn back as she walked away. The hurt she saw on her younger brother's face as she turned away made her heart clench.
I'm sorry Harry.
Etta jerked awake.
The room was quiet and cold, Greengrass's lamp next to her bedside glowed a very dim green that made the shadows in the room seem larger. Yellow eyes glared at her from Greengrass's bed, her beast of a cat growling.
She carefully made her way out of the room, slowing down cautiously as she passed the glowing yellow eyes, and a lightly snoring Nott who had a book clenched in her hand, probably reading before she fell asleep. Etta made her way down the hall, trying to stay quiet as she padded down the stone hall. The floors didn't have a warming charm on them despite the cold of the dungeons.
There was a fire going in the Common Room, and it was a warm orange instead of its usual green. Seating herself across the flames, she curled up on the lightly padded couch. It wasn't meant for relaxation like the Ravenclaw couches that everyone in Ravenclaw had surely fell asleep on from staying up too late to study.
"You're not supposed to be in the Common Room at this hour." She jumped, startled at the interruption of a new person.
"Then why are you here?" Etta turns her head to the person, and a smirk stretches across their lips and they cock their head to the side curiously.
"Because I want to." She huffs, "That's not an answer."
Black chuckles, seating himself in a chair near the couch. The light from the fire enhances his features and Etta wants to cry at how he looks like Sirius in this light. Sirius definitely inherited his looks more from his father, she thought.
"I apologize for Walburga, she usually is as nasty as they come." She raises a brow but doesn't retort, turning back to the fire.
It's quiet, the fire crackles and they sit silently together for a moment.
"What was Beauxbatons like? I cannot imagine any place better than Hogwarts, especially since they let in such rabble." Black raises a brow, a subtle smirk on his lips. He expects a blood-tratior retort, Etta thinks, he wants to rile her up and then name all the reasons why Muggleborns are unacceptable and wrong.
"Beauxbatons was beautiful," she replies "I enjoyed the exposure to many cultures and languages since Beauxbatons takes in many from the other countries." Orion narrows his eyes at her and prods once more, "What about the Mudbloods accepted?"
"My, my, are you interested in them? I can send in a word to the ones in Gryffindor or Hufflepuff." Black blinks at her, and Etta's hands are clenched as she tries to seem relaxed.
You are not Lily Potter's daughter here. You are not a Halfblood. You are not Lily Potter's daughter, you are not a Halfb—
"Well played Potter." Black kicks a leg out, crossing one long leg over another as he stretches in his seat. The position is similar to how Sirius would relax, and she wonders if he picked up on it from his father in some way.
They are silent once more, and Etta feels the urge to talk even though she is uncomfortable in Black's company. She wanted to be alone, but couldn't just ask Black to leave her alone. An image of Philomena popped up in her mind, scolding her like she would constantly scold Charlus when he was not being an 'acceptable Pureblood.'
"You are betrothed, yes?" Black speaks up, his hands folded in his lap as he turns his head to the fire. She can only see the slope of his cheekbone and the shell of his ear.
Blinking, Etta ponders the question for a moment. She doesn't exactly know if she is in this timeline, and while the thought makes her bristle to be married off like a good Pureblood girl, she knows it's one of the bigger cons of this timeline besides the Second World War.
"I do not know yet," she says hesitantly, "Mother would prefer it before my Seventh year."
He snorts, turning his head to her; his grey eyes catch the firelight and they burn silver instead. "You are luckier than most then. My younger cousin is in his third year and is having his first child. Most Potters marry later, if I remember correctly." Etta startles at his first sentence, at thirteen some child was having a child? They were most likely already married, per pureblood custom, but a third year?
Back home, there was betrothals between the richer halfbloods and of course the purebloods, but it was always after they finished schooling. Sue Li would've cried if her parents ever betrothed her before she finished her studies, she thought.
"I might be betrothed to Walburga as summer comes. The girl is ghastly enough when she visits, and I dread the notion of wedding her." He sighs dramatically and leans over the armrest of the chair, backwards, black hair hanging in his face while he grins teasingly, "Though I can't imagine why my parents want me to marry a creature instead of a nice, proper witch."
She stares for a moment before she's laughing hard enough that it feels like she did a hundred sit-ups, and her face is flushed red. Orion joins in with her, still hanging upside down from the armrest, his legs curled in as he shoves his hand over his face to stop his chortling that only makes Etta laugh harder.
The image of an angry Walburga Black doesn't sober her up, but only conjures a ridiculous image of her mixed with several magical species.
As their laughter stops, Etta shifts on the uncomfortable couch so she is laying on her back. The ceiling of the Common Room is the plain grey of stone, and she can feel Black staring at her.
"Potter."
She can hear Black move around to sit up, and a hiss as his bare feet touch the cold floor.
"Help me." He says, and Etta furrows her dark brows as she turns to the Black scion.
"I didn't think that Blacks asked for help with anything." Etta stated as she crossed her ankles.
Orion brushes off her comment and leans forward in his chair. He isn't close, but it makes the two meters they separate them seem even closer than they should be.
"I don't want to marry Walburga, and I know you don't want to be the next Lady Macnair or such." She whips her head to him, and she can feel her hair tangling up as she does, her head pressed to the couch as she lays.
"What makes you think I'd rather be the next Lady Black? We hardly know each other besides our family reputations." She narrows her eyes at Black, and he puts up his hands in a calming motion.
"I can pretend to court you, and we can get married afterwards. I don't want to marry Walburga, and while your family is considered to be bloodtraitors—" he winces as Etta's lips press into a firmer line of disapproval, "—you're in Slytherin, so my family will overlook it. We can stay married for a year or two then null the marriage."
Etta huffs, pushing herself up from the couch she shakes her head, "You're crazy. You can't ask this of me, we barely even know each other!"
Orion quickly gets up, taking a few steps closer to her, but backing off when she pins him with her green eyes. "That's why I said I would court you, we can get to know each other that way and it would make us seem more serious than a dalliance."
The fire crackles loudly as a log splits. Etta sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose as she begins to pace. The floor is cold, but she pays it no mind as she feels Orion's eyes watching her closely.
"With preference?"
A quizzical look is thrown her way, "Pardon?"
Etta sighs and does some gestures with her hands as she paces, "I have choices to what I will allow and not allow to happen in this... courtship."
He nods, "To a degree where it can still be a proper courtship." Etta feels like a freight train has settled into her stomach while a hammer makes use of her head.
"I—" she sighs, "—agree."
They clasp hands to seal the deal, a ribbon of purple embracing their hands together before fading away.
When Etta wakes up, Harry is curiously staring at her from his perch on her feet. He meows, and it sounds disappointed as she recalls the night before.
"Yeah, me too." She replies as Harry meows again.
The dorm room isn't bright, but the soft glowing ball of light floating near the ceiling shows that none of her dorm mates have yet awoken.
Picking to skip a shower in favor of an early breakfast, she quickly dresses before anyone else can awaken. She grabs her bag for her textbooks, neatly placing a Transfiguration essay between the books so they wouldn't crinkle. Harry meows again, the cat following her out of the girl's dormitories before finding a place to perch in the Common Room.
There's a few early risers seated on the couches and chairs, rubbing away the sleep from their eyes and some were scribbling down last minute homework furiously.
The scraping stone made way for the exit as they opened up, and she quickly makes her way out of the dungeon to escape the chill. Most portraits are waking up, announcing their morning greetings to each other before greeting Etta.
The Great Hall has a few early risers, majority of which are Ravenclaws. A few Gryffindors amble about, mingling with the sleepy Hufflepuffs. She sees Charlus with a red haired witch, a possible ancestor of the Weasleys with how bright of a red her hair is. Charlus spotted Etta, excusing himself from the possible Weasley.
"Good morning, my dear sister," Charlus held his arms open for a hug, and for a moment Etta hesitated before accepting the embrace. Charlus didn't seem at all concerned that she was in Slytherin, and she hoped that Philomena and Henry would feel the same.
"Good morning Charlus. How's Gryffindor?" Etta asked, leaning back to look up at Charlus's smiling face.
"It's a juicy riot." Etta gives him a puzzled look, and Charlus laughs, "I picked some slang from others."
Etta quirks a brow at Charlus and he gives her a grin, "How's Slytherin, Ettie?" He asks, releasing her from their familial embrace. Etta didn't realize how much she missed the familiarity of another Potter with her.
"A bit cold, but I'm getting along fine with one of my dorm-mates. She actually has a brain." Targeting the last sentence in a drawl towards Charlus, he gives her a fake pout and chuckles, "I honestly expected you to get into Ravenclaw."
The table was polite as she sat down, an older student summoning a plate and several people inquiring if she needed anything that was out of her reach. It was an overwhelming experience from half-starving in Privet Drive, bitter against her relatives.
"Welcome to Ravenclaw." An older, dirty blond boy smiles, a badge pinned to his robes that read 'Prefect.'
Etta blinks, and he chuckles as he passes her some split peas, small debates and conversations starting back up after all the firsties have been welcomed.
Etta gives him a half-hearted chuckle, straightening his red and gold necktie. "She'd have fit if she saw that."
Charlus rolls his eyes, "What mum doesn't know won't kill her." He then promptly undoes Etta's work and sticks his tongue out at her. She laughs at him as more people begin to sleepily file into the Great Hall.
They separate, promising each other to meet up during lunch or a class that they might share. Etta isn't dumb enough to ask Charlus if he could sit with her, or vice versa. The Gryffindors would call her names until she left, and the Slytherins would frown upon Etta for allowing her brother to sit with them. She would go straight down the Slytherin social hierarchy, and that wasn't a pretty place to go.
Etta seats herself as soon as she sees Orion enter the hall. Walburga is gossiping with some Black cousin, if the other girl's dark hair and tall, thin frame were anything to go by.
Orion scanned the table, his eyes landed on Etta, and she felt her hands become clammy. She wanted to back out, tell him to forget to deal, Obliviate him of the memory. With every step, she could feel her nerves set on fire and the tingling of regret heavy in her stomach.
He's closer. A shadow falls over her back, and she clenches the fork in her hand as she takes a bite of her eggs.
But he passes. Orion doesn't look at her as her seats himself a proper distance of three feet away, Walburga sits as close as she can to him, and the Black cousin takes up the last space that is closest to Etta.
The most of the student body begin to file in, a grand total of about two hundred students, coming and going. The yellow-clad Hufflepuffs stayed together as a group, older years elongating the table to make space for the incoming. Studious Ravenclaws either studied at the table or shoved their breakfast down their mouth as fast as they could to make it to the library right when it opened. Most Gryffindors were slumped over the table, and a huge portion were missing. Most likely asleep. The Slytherins steadily came and went about their business in and out of the Great Hall, refusing to look anything near tired, despite the dark circles under a few.
"Incoming mail!" Calls out a Prefect, the first owl swoops down and drops a package on top of a sleeping Gryffindor to much amusement when they wake up with an undignified squawk.
A barn owl swiftly lands in front of Etta, leg holding out an enveloped letter. She offers the animal a piece of her toast, and takes the letter from its leg. The Potter crest sits on the red wax seal, a potion bottle with two wands behind it sat in the middle of the shield. Ivy grew out to border the shield gracefully, and a two pillars stood strong with a winding ribbon of the family motto on them in Old English.
She wants to set aside the letter. Philomena could care less about the house she was put in, she went to Beauxbatons in her youth. Henry's disappointment would hurt her. The man was always busy with the Ministry work he did, but he was a warm and welcome sight in Potter manor.
Etta breaks the seal, and almost puts it away again when she sees the gracefully looping script of Philomena.
Dearest Henrietta, is at the start of the parchment.
Charlus has written home that you've been sorted into Slytherin. Gryffindor wasn't a surprise for your brother, he's too much like Henry when he was younger. I am disappointed that you didn't write home as you promised me, but I can assume that you are ashamed of the house you were sorted in. Do not fret, my dear, being cunning or ambitious is not to earn a broken or contrite heart over.
Houses don't define a person dear. If they did, then Fleamont wouldn't be exceptionally smart, nor Charlus being understanding. I do hope that do you think this over.
In a week or two, I believe that clubs will be starting in Hogwarts, or so your father tells me. As a lady I would like for you to join the Needlepoint and Charms Club. I know you will take the former with the enthusiasm of a salted snail, but needlepoint is a good source of creating charms or wards over the household or room. I will send a book for you to read more on it.
Some of your friends from Beauxbatons have sent letters. I have shrunken them and placed them near the bottom of the envelope.
Lastly, my dear Henrietta, Slytherin isn't a house to be ashamed in. I am glad that my daughter has the potential to outwit others. I am proud of you.
My love,
Philomena Leopoldine Rouergue Potter
"Who can tell me the uses of Counter-jinxes? Yes, Mister Mulligan was it?" Professor Merrythought asks, squinting at the student roster. Mulligan, a dark-skinned Gryffindor stutters his answer out, the Slytheirns snickered as his swarthy skin tints the faintest of pinks.
Etta sighs. She hoped the curriculum would be different from the '90s but she was sorely disappointed. Taking her quill, she scribbles down the few notes on the blackboard, and tries to ignore Black. He sits directly behind her, and his feet are crossed over one leg of her chair, tugging her backwards every couple minutes. It's annoying.
After breakfast, Black had approached her. His arm was offered, and a small, yet fake smile was given to her—it was more for show towards the student body that immediately broke out in frantic whispers.
She could see Nott's calculating look, and Charlus's slack jawed shock and anger. Not to mention, Walburga Black sent her the most hateful glare. Etta could feel her skin prickle at the thought.
"This is so stupid." She mutters, pressing a bit more forcefully on the tiddle. The dot above the eye becomes a large blob of ink instead of an actual tiddle. Behind her, Black pulls her chair with his feet.
Merrythought is gifting some blond Gryffindor five points as she contemplates breaking whatever vow she and Black made the night before.
"Miss Potter! Five points from Slytherin! I asked you a question and expected an answer. If you think that you can space out in this class, then you can leave." Merrythought slapped down a ruler in front of Etta, and she jolts.
"My apologies, Professor Merrythought." She replies, despite the annoyed glances from her housemates.
"Good. Now can you tell me the counter-jinx to the Meliflors Jinx?" Black yanks on her chair leg. "The Pepenonrebum incantation," She says as Merrythought swiftly nods, her short red hair bobbing. "Ten points to Slytherin, yes."
The Head of Ravenclaw then moved on, unbiased as she took points and gave points to both rival houses during the class. Once class ends, she hurriedly packs up her stuff, then whips around to Black.
"What, may I ask, is your problem?" Etta hisses, slinging her bag over her shoulder. Black tries to take her bag from her, and she takes a large step to separate them. "You distracted me the whole lesson! It is most unbecoming—"
"Henrietta, my dear, why would you need to worry about studies when you have me?" Black gives her a look, and a few students lingering outside of the classroom begin whispering furiously. The Hogwarts grapevine surely will be singing with rumors and speculation by lunch.
She picks up her pace, wanting to get away from the annoying Black heir. A hand grabs her wrist and drags her into one of many unused classrooms, much to her mounting irritation she wants to snap at the owner of said hand.
"Potter, be still!" Black hisses, wrenching her around to face him. Her bag slides down her arm and heavily rests on inside of her arm. "You made a vow. We both did. I know you want this as much as a rat wants a kneazle." He says lowly.
"I made the vow while half-awake, Black." He raises a brow and sighs, "Potter, we both know that you can't break whatever vow we made last night." Etta glares, "I can try."
He laughs dryly, "Don't you sound like a bloody Gryffindor?" Black crosses his arms over his chest, and appraises her. "Pity. I thought you were smart enough to take on this opportunity."
She breathes heavily through her nose, and narrows her eyes in question. "Come on Potter, you're a pureblood yes, but you're from a blood-traitor family. Your reputation in our House leaves much to be desired; I can help."
Etta ran his proposition through her head. She could feel the vows straining under her skin for her sudden disagreement—they prickled painfully when she thought of saying no.
Flicking her hair over her shoulder, and smoothing down her robes she sighs, "Let's go over some guidelines." Black groans, and she quickly puts up a finger. "I barely know you, Black."
He lifted a brow and sneered, "Very well."
"First. You will not pick on my family." He opens his mouth to protest, "That was Walburga—" Etta interrupts without caring, "—You will keep your darling cousins mouths to themselves. I will not tolerate disrespect."
Black is glaring at her, his grey eyes a flinty steel as he clenches his jaw. "Fine." He mutters, as though forced.
For the rest of the day, Etta complies to Black's machinations. The whole idea of a fake relationship seems terribly cliché, and she doesn't like the attention that is suddenly amounted onto her when Black escorts her through the halls.
It's not the brightest idea she's had, and Etta swears to never go out into the Common Room past curfew ever again. She doesn't talk to Nott all day, and by the carefully hidden inquisitiveness that shines in her blue eyes; there will be questions later.
Charlus seems to follow her around, because she swears she sees the signature Potter hair more than once in her route to her knows Charlus's schedule from the brief glance she had gotten of it. It's only when he follows her and Black to Ancient Runes, she's skeptical of his tailing because she knows he's supposed to be in his Apparation classes that was being taught by some Ministry worker.
Black is not amused by this whatsoever, and Etta finds herself hearing too many frustrated sighs when Charlus peers at them behind a suit of armor.
Ancient Runes is being taught by a middle-aged wizard with a goatee. He introduces himself as Professor Altoy Aanepada. The Professor is a fair and stern man, little sway towards favoring Houses because of his foreign nature, and little care towards the house point system.
Black of course, picks a seat next to Etta. In a petty move, she steals one of his nicer looking quills and ignores the hiss of irritation from him. Professor Aanepada begins the lesson with naming the most common runic alphabets, and by region of where they are common.
Next to her, Black sighs and settles his head on the table to sleep. Etta rolls her eyes.
"Her hand was on his arm!"
"No!" Gasps a Gryffindor girl, "How scandalous! Orion is cheating on Walburga?"
"I don't think they were dating in the first place, Victoria." A male Ravenclaw chuckles.
Etta is certainly positive that the person drilling holes into her head is Walburga Black. The gossip going through the Great Hall certainly doesn't help her case, and she almost wishes that the Killing Curse hit its mark and Dumbledore ignored her arrival in Purgatory.
She can see Charlus across the large room, his face pinched into a nasty scowl as he stabbed his dinner. Black is sitting casually next to her, as if little worry in the world, while Etta twitches at the prospect of a hex being shot her way by his obsessive cousin.
He hasn't spoken to her since pulling her into the empty room, and for that she's slightly grateful. She quietly eats her chowder as Black converses with a familiar pointy faced blond and the Head Boy, Tom Riddle. Nott isn't at dinner, and she feels a bit betrayed by her intelligent dorm-mate.
There's a loud, clang! And Etta hears a few cry out in alarm, mostly ickle Firsties. Charlus mahe's his away across the hall, eyes blazing and wand held firmly to his side, out and ready.
"Black!" He spits out, and several with the surname turn around in alarm. Black, the one next to her, ignores Charlus and carries on conversing.
Etta watches with wide eyes and Charlus wordlessly throws Black off of his seat. The Slytherins freeze, and a few of Black's relatives have their hands hovering over where their wands are. The Great Hall fell silent, and Coach Cragg, the Head of House Gryffindor quickly makes his way to them, followed by Professor Slughorn.
"Mister Potter! I will not tolerate violence!" Cragg shrieks, his bushy white hair erratically floofing more than it normally was.
Charlus is breathing deeply, and his wand is trained on Black. Black smirks, his hands up and palms presented to him, "What a noble Gryffindor, to attack an unarmed man." Black drawls, lips curling upwards.
"Mister Potter! Mister Potter do not think that I will not take points from Gryffindor! Young man, sit down!" Coach Cragg shrieks again.
Charlus's hazel eyes narrow behind his glasses, and before he even speaks, a sense of dread settles in her stomach.
"I, Charlus William Potter the Fifth of the Ancient House Potter challenge you to a duel." Etta wants to groan in frustration. Coach Cragg had frozen where he was, and Slughorn had seemingly gone pale, no doubt thinking of repercussions from the Black family that he would have to deal with.
"I, Orion Black, First of my name of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black, accept your challenge." Black's smirk stretches wider as Charlus clenches his jaw.
She can see Dumbledore at the Head Table lean over to whisper in the Headmaster's ear.
Charlus drew back himself, and his wand. He gave Etta blank look, and turned back to his own table, all of his anger seemingly gone. Black seats himself again, and ignores the look Riddle shoots him as he continues his conversation as if a confrontation never happened.
Afterwards, dinner throughout the Great Hall wasn't as loud as it always was.
I've been busy with finals since April, and I still am. My apologies.
To those reading A Mother's Love, I am currently drafting and rewriting the whole story. Even the plot a bit. To those just reading Of Shrewdness and Wit, while my updates are slow and inconsistent, I will not abandon this story, so there is no need to message me in such a rush.
Anyways, some facts/trivia
-I have switched from the first day of Etta's arrival to the first month. So it has been a month of her living in Hogwarts in the 'past.'
-I have this small little headcannon that the Potters have named most of their children after U.K. nobility, namely royalty. That's why I named Charlus, Charlus William. Henry and James Potter strengthen my headcannon and I reason the practice must've started 1700s-1800s possibly.
-I know that the fake relationship is a cliche. I'm taking my own spin on it, and while albeit rocky, I've fit it into my plotline that will soon become clear in a couple chapters.
-Philomena Leopldine Rouergue Potter. This is an example I've made of a pureblood witch's full name. [First Name] [Middle Name] [Maiden Name] [Marriage Name]. If Etta and Orion truly follow through with their plan, Etta would be: Henrietta Latitia Potter Black. In her original timeline she would be Henrietta Lily Potter Black. I changed her middle name to fit something Philomena would pick.
-The Potters are an old house. I just added the title "Ancient" to them, but without the 'Noble' I would think that a background pureblood family that stayed out of spotlight most of the time (as said by JK Rowling) would not find use of the title.
Leave some reviews! Id love to if you guys genuinely enjoy this story so far.
love, zyxms.
