Cordelia Potter-Clermont, born a Potter but raised as a Clermont, is a girl caught between two legacies. When she arrives at Hogwarts in her sixth year, she is a whispered enigma-brilliant, alluring and veiled in shadows. Unlike her brother James, C...
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Sirius lounged comfortably in a rocking chair, flipping through the pages of a comic book, when James's voice cut through his reverie.
"Sirius?"
Looking up, Sirius saw James perched on his bed, hand resting thoughtfully on his chin. "Don't you find it suspicious that Cordelia is suddenly coming back to live with us?"
Sirius sighed, "We've been over this, mate. Her grandaunt, her guardian, passed away. There's no reason for her to stay in France. I thought you'd be over the moon about having your little sister back."
"I am," James insisted, though his tone was more puzzled than elated. "It's just odd she's transferring to Hogwarts now. She doesn't have to switch schools, does she? She could attend Beauxbatons and visit during holidays, like before." James flopped back onto the bed, his brow furrowed. "I'm telling you, something must have happened."
Sirius knew James had a point. The Potters had always wanted both their children to attend Hogwarts, hoping it would strengthen their bond. However, Cressida Clermont had vehemently opposed the idea, and as Cordelia grew older, she too became attached to her French school. Despite her parents' wishes, she stood firm, and they eventually relented. Changing schools now did seem unnecessary.
"She'll be here any minute," Sirius suggested with a shrug. "Why don't you just ask her?"
James scowled. "She'd rather spill her secrets to a Niffler than to me."
Just then, the unmistakable sound of the fireplace activating filled the room. "They're here," James said, springing up and rushing toward the door.
Sirius took his time getting up. Their last encounter had ended in a spectacular row, and he wasn't eager to relive it. He owed her an apology-or perhaps she owed him one. Ideally, they would both apologize and move on. But he knew Cordelia; she was more likely to hold a grudge than extend an olive branch. He wasn't going to grovel if it wasn't reciprocated. He set his comic book aside and started down the stairs.
As he descended, a familiar scent wafted through the air-the scent of roses, stronger than usual. He paused for a moment, noting the fragrance. Cordelia's rose scent had always been noticeable, but tonight it was particularly strong, almost as if it was making an announcement of her presence. The aroma was not just pleasant; it was distinctive and unmistakable, something that lingered long after she had left the room.
As Sirius approached the living room, he saw the entire Potter family gathered around a pile of luggage. But it was Cordelia Potter-Clermont who commanded the room. She had always been a pretty child, but the 16-year-old before him was a vision. Even the models in Muggle magazines would pale in comparison. She seemed to have grown taller, her presence more striking. A white rose adorned her hair, styled in a half-knot, which explained the potent floral scent.
Standing beside her mother, Cordelia's snow-white skin, long black straight hair with slight curls at the ends, and icy blue eyes made her look every inch an Clermont, more so than her own mother. She was the epitome of the famed Clermont beauty-elegant, poised, and slightly aloof.
