Selcouth
Selcouth (Sell-Coo-Th);
Unfamiliar, rare, strange, and yet marvelous.
Harry hung with Lucretia in the shadows of the common room. Every few minutes she would make a snide remark about some students. It was horrible of her, but Harry had a hard time stifling his laughter. Harry couldn’t deny some of them not being true. He felt relaxed, spread out on the couches together.
Eventually, at a time he was dreading, Lucretia announced they should go to dinner.
She grabbed his arm and hauled him up, an action that showed Harry she was comfortable around him. For a Black, she wasn’t as horrible as Sirius described his family to be.
She wasn’t kind, the opposite. She was a part of one of the oldest families, so alas, why did no one seem to like her?
The walk to the great hall was a quiet affair. Lucretia had her arm linked with his the whole way, directing him. When they got inside, there was no food on the table. Some students were scattered but there were barely any Slytherins sitting around.
They took their spot near the end of the table, slightly shadowed.
“Where is the food?” Harry asked. In his time food would usually always appear.
“It’ll be here soon but I think Dippet is going to wait until they announce your arrival.” She replied.
Harry had a hard time suppressing a groan. Half the school may hate him just because he held up their dinner. Eventually, students started littering in.
“Oh, and that’s Orion, my brother,” Lucretia spoke. Harry almost snapped his neck looking up, “He’s a fourth year.”
Orion Black was tall. He was handsome. He was posh-looking.
He was disgusting.
He was a boy here, but eventually, he would grow into a cruel and vile man. Harry’s hand tightened around his wrist to restrain himself. From doing what? he didnt know. What he was sure of was if Orion Black ever breathed in his direction, Harry wouldn’t hold back.
Harry also hated how much he looked like Sirius, how they bore the same face, the same porcelain skin, the same eyes. Same posture, same stature, same facial structure. Harry was struck with a wave of self-loathing.
Sirius had told him all the blacks played a part in making his life miserable.
How his home was more a prison than Azkaban ever was.
Yet, here he was, sitting close to a Black. Laughing with her. Like he did with Sirius.
His mood took a bitter turn. He became withdrawn, moving himself as far from Lucretia as he could without being noticeable. Harry was in complete and utter turmoil. So far Lucretia hadn’t been blatantly cruel. Rude, yes. But not cruel. Sirius had never mentioned Lucretia before. Harry knew some of the blacks weren’t all pureblood obsessed, could Lucretia be one of them?
No. The first thing she wondered was if he was a pureblood.
Harry bit his tongue, eyes drawing holes in the table.
“Yuck, there’s Walburga,” Lucretia sneered.
Harry looked up, almost dazedly.
Walburga was Sirius’s mother originally.
“I hate her.” Lucretia sighed, “But she’s my cousin so I have to play nice. She and Orion are meant to be married when they leave Hogwarts.”
“But. . .They’re cousins.” It was more a question than a statement.
“Hmm. There aren’t many purebloods our age that Orion was willing to marry. He was very prissy and dramatic, threatening Father about it. His parents got his revenge when betrothing them together.” Lucretia said slowly, a smirk twisting and twining her lips.
Harry frowned, ‘his’ parents? She spoke as though they weren’t siblings.
“Walburga didn’t seem bothered when she found out. ‘As long as he is pureblood.’” Lucretia mocked Walburga and then made a gagging noise.
“She’s vile. Willing to marry her blood to keep the line pure. Then again, everyone who is a pureblood is related.”
“And you?” Harry finally spoke.
“I mean, who are you marrying?” Harry said after seeing her arched eyebrow. He wanted to disappear after the question left his mouth.
“Excuse me?” Her voice was disgusted but there was another emotion swimming in her eyes.
“I just mean if Orion is younger and already has a future marriage, who are you going to marry? If you are going to.” Harry asked quickly and politely, hoping to not seem rude.
She scanned his face and it made Harry uncomfortable. Stop it.
“Well, Orion is younger but he’s a boy so he will take the Black name. He is a priority in finding a match. I suppose I’ll be married to whoever they want.”
“But…they can’t!”
“They can, Potter. I suppose I’ll probably end up with Avery or Rosier. Beg Merlin to not be Lestrange. If it is I may just Avada myself.” Lucreita rolled her eyes.
Harry felt a stabbing of pity. It dug deep into his chest the longer he stared at Lucretia. She somehow thought this was okay. Which, it most certainly isn’t. Lucretia should be able to be with who she wanted, who she truly loved.
It showed how embedded blood purity was in their minds. How stitched it was in their brains.
Instead of feeling disgusted, Harry felt determined. He may not be able to sway the whole Slytherin house, but not all were helpless.
“Why not Lestrange?” Harry grits out.
“‘Why not Lestrange?’ Please, Potter, look at him. He’s so… enough. Everything about him. His hair looks like Hippogriff shit, his skin looks like there is no blood running through it- just everything. He’s more polite than a 1000-year-old ghost. And that’s saying something. He would die to be with me, I’d bet. As if, though. He would be better with someone like Bulstrode.” She snickered, looking at a girl across the table.
“Are most purebloods our age betrothed?”
“Uh, not all. Most are too ugly to be with anyone themselves so their parents organize it.”
Harry was sure that wasn’t the reason, but he nodded along. Lucretia was rather childish when it came to marriage.
“Mostly parents wait until their own is in the seventh year. If they haven’t found themselves with a respectable pure-blood, then they arrange it.”
Harry nodded along.
“If you are interested in someone, look at their wrist, necklace, or fingers. Usually, if they’re betrothed they will have some sort of promise jewellery. Walburga has my grandmother’s family ring sitting on her bony fingers.”
Harry watched as Lucretia thrummed her fingers on the table, glaring blatantly at the fourth-year girl.
“Tell me about the boys we were talking to, the ones in the courtyard,” Harry asked nonchalantly.
Lucretia sighed heavily, dramatically. Harry could tell though that she was dying to spill something juicy.
“Okay, so let’s start with Avery. Met him when we started Hogwarts, unlike Malfoy and that. He was extremely quiet at first. Quite literally you could forget his existence. He’s good at Arthimancy, I saw in the third year he excelled, and became second best in the year. He was what made me quit the class he was that annoying. That was the third year, then he started getting close to Riddle. That’s when Riddle brought him out of his shell. It gets mentioned a lot.”
Harry nodded along, taking mental notes. As Dumbledore had said, most were already enchanted by Riddle in his third year. In Harry’s third year he was trying to evade a raging murderer (even though Sirius wasn’t, Harry wouldn’t forget the terror of a claimed mass murderer targeting him) yet in Riddle’s third year he was manipulating everyone around him. He shuddered.
“Next is Nott. Quiet, but more in an assessing way. He’s good at transfiguration I suppose. Nothing extra extravagant. He once cursed Yazmine Chang so badly that she didn’t return to school until the next year. But it’s okay because I didn’t like her. He didn’t get caught as well, the professors are stupid here. Then again, you wouldn’t expect Nott to be the one to do it. Everyone always thinks to point the finger at Slytherins whenever something goes wrong, but they never, ever point it at Riddle’s friends.”
She snorted at the end, picking the edges of her nails. Harry wanted to blurt out all the things Riddle had done. Would she beleive him? If he did tell her of the things Riddle has and will do, would she understand? Harry bit his tongue. No, she probably wouldn’t. She would laugh then shrug it off.
“Let’s see, there is Mulciber. He’s a seventh-year like me but is quite close to Riddle. Unlike the rest, Mulciber is as dumb as a rock. He’s the duncest man you’ll ever meet, and you’ve talked to Lestrange. If he’ll try to intimidate you, like he did with me, it’s all bite no venom. A nice crucio to the arse will do, maybe it’ll make it bigger.”
She laughed again, obviously finding delight in criticizing others. Since Mulciber was a future murderer, he chuckled with her. "There's Riddle-" Harry sat up straighter, "Not much to say. He's handsome, blah. He's a genius, blah. I think everyone is so obsessed with him, I like to act like I don't care. Because I can. Honestly, he isn't that interesting. Yeah, he saved the school, but so would I if I murdered Lestrange. We all know I'm one comment away. He likes to surround himself with influential people with influential families. Like Slughorn-" Harry wondered what Riddle's reaction would be when compared to Slughorn. "-Everyone thinks he is so inclusive, buttttt no one ever comments how no mudbloods ever sit with him. Just saying." Harry wasn't sure if he should be glad someone else was aware Riddle wasn't as golden as he shined or worried that she thought murdering Lestrange was a genuinely good idea. "Yeah, I wasn't so keen as well." Lucretia snorted, then her expression took a dark turn.
“Lestrange.” She spat, “I take it back, Mulciber is dumb but Lestrange is downright fucked.”
Harry’s eyebrows rose, shock coloring his features. He didn’t know why he didn’t expect her to swear.
“He’s bad at everything. Potions; he’ll blow every cauldron up. Flying; he’ll crash into you because he can’t control his broom. herbology; he’ll squirt pus all over himself because he can’t listen to instructions. He’s doomed in the real world. He likes cursing mudbloods because he finds it funny when they struggle. He’s a vile, disgusting piece of dragon shit.”
She ranted, venom lacing her tone. Harry’s mouth dropped slightly. She spoke about him with such hostility he was startled.
“Didn’t like him either,” Harry said reassuringly.
She smiled, “Knew his idiotic energy wasn’t just noticeable to me.”
Harry chuckled.
“Then there’s Malfoy. Out of the whole group, he’s probably the most tolerable-” Seeing his unimpressed face, she grinned shakily, “I know, he does seem like a douch but I’ve known him for a while. The Black’s and Malfoy’s are quite close. To others, he’s a tad pompous, but he can be a great friend when you need him.”
Harry doubted that more than anything in his life.
Lucretia was speaking sweetly about Malfoy, it was an odd change of tone.
A few girls giggled as they walked past. Harry stretched his body to see them looking at him and Lucretia together. There were three of them, all Slytherins. Black made a wretch and he turned to look at her. Lucretia’s face was scrunched up tightly.
“Greengrass, Parkinson and Snyde.”
The three girls joined (Who Harry guessed) Bulstrode down the table. The four looked at Lucretia and Harry, saw them staring, and instantly leaned together, laughter erupting now and then.
Harry felt anger rising. Parkinson looked just as pug-like as Pansy in his time. The same nose, mousy hair, and brown eyes.
Harry had always thought Daphne Greengrass was beautiful. How could he not? Greengrass from his time was elegant and regal, pretty and blonde. Which is why it surprised him to see this Greengrass with rich red-colored hair. Greengrass here had deep blue colored eyes that met him and held his stare.
Eventually, Harry looked at Snyde and Bullstrode. In his time there was a Millicent Bulstrode, who was a half-blood. She was frequently shamed and hung out with Ravenclaws. Harry rarely saw Millicent sit with the other Slytherin.
Snyde was a tall girl with short brown hair. From here Harry could see her black and bushy eyebrows.
“Don’t waste your time Harry. We’re all Slytherins but they are the slimiest snakes out of all of us.” Lucretia sneered, rubbing her forehead with her middle finger.
“Are they your dormmates?”
“Yes. Wish they weren’t but they are. Trust me when I say it would be best to not talk to them.”
Lucretia was scanning his face again, forcing Harry to nod.
Black sighed, “They feed off gossip and sly rumors, Potter. Beleive me, if you don’t play along with their rules, they can ruin your life. Like with Malfoy, play nice, and nothing will happen. I am grateful for what you did earlier but Abraxas may not take kindly to it.”
“I don’t care what Malfoy does.”
“You will.”
His answer came quickly, but hers came automatically. They stared at each other for a few seconds before a loud laugh stole Harry’s eyes.
He looked at where Greengrass was laughing, hand over mouth. She had a band of pearls around her neck, pearl earrings, and a pearl necklace.
“Ah, Diantha Greengrass. Look out Potter, she’s already Riddle’s.”
“What!?” He asked, close to yelling. Greengrass and Riddle? The group of girls looked at him for a few seconds before talking again.
Lucretia leaned back, happy but not with his reaction.
“You heard, apparently Greengrass majorly fancies Riddle. Greengrass always gets who she wants, it is only a matter of time. Even though Riddle has accepted, he hasn’t denied them either.”
Harry opened and closed his mouth.
“Even if he did accept, everyone knows it would be no point. She’ll be dead by 30.”
“…why?”
“Why? Harry, have you not heard of the infamous Greengrass blood curse?”
A cruel look overtook her features. The way she said his name reminded him too much of Sirius.
“I haven’t… no.”
“Greengrass’ mother is dead. So is her grandfather. Who knows who it will be, at least one Greengrass sibling will die sooner or later. And… Diantha is an only child. It’s why her father spoils her so much, who knows how much longer she has left.”
Lucretia tittered, putting her chin in her palm.
“It’s why everyone does whatever she wants, also why she’s already Riddle’s. She’s a selcouth, stunning flower, but she’s also a dying one. Riddle would be shamed if he didn’t go out with her, I would bet.”
Harry felt a squish of pity in his heart. Not for Riddle, of course. He would never feel pity for someone as heartless as Tom Riddle.
Instead, for Diantha.
She shouldn’t guilt-trip people into doing whatever she wants but if Harry was dying, he would want comfort too. If he knew that every minute that went by was a wasted one, he would do whatever he could.
Lucretia saw the look in his eye and sighed.
“Don’t-”
“Lucretia O’ Lucretia!” A voice sang.
Harry’s back muscles tense unwillingly.
Someone sat to his left, another to his right, others squishing Lucretia in.
“Lucretia dear, and…Potter.”