As time passed by classwork picked up as November settled in. The surrounding mountain peaks become frosty including the lake which now has a layer of black-like ice. A few brave souls had already attempted to skate on the frozen lake including the Marauders. After earning an earful from Professor McGonagall, they had been let go with a stern warning to stay clear of the lake until the lake thoroughly froze through. Admittedly only points had been demerited.
The grounds of Hogwarts are covered in frost each morning as the gray skies become heavily laden with the promise of the first snowfall. Even worse the chill of the dungeons has become even icier. Students during Potions wear thick layers including a coat and gloves to keep the bitter chill at bay. The Slytherins and Hufflepuffs by nature tend to dress more warmly since their quarters are located in the recesses of the dungeons.
Then again, Astronomy is the first-year student's most hated class now. Every Wednesday night at Midnight, they have no choice but to climb to the top of the Astronomy Tower. At the top of the tower, they are all exposed to the bitter, harshness of the elements.
The icy, bone-chilling winds raked through their cloaks despite the many layers of clothing they wear. Their faces after a few minutes become nearly blue from the cold as the student's teeth loudly clatter. Their fingers despite wearing fur-lined gloves are numb.
Their handwriting is awful as they try to chart the stars. Sometimes even the inkwell froze making it so they can't write. They had to use the sharpened end of their quill, the nib to break the frozen ink. Afterward, their ink would be rather splotchy causing their in-class assignments to frequently be docked points.
They are not the only ones as even the Professors can be seen wearing cloaks in class. The large figure of Hagrid can be seen tromping about the half-frozen grounds wearing a moleskin overcoat with rabbit-sized thick wool gloves, and beaver-skin boots. Yet the cold is not enough to stop a certain population of students in their tracks.
Despite the bitter chill, the school is in a flurry as the start of the Quidditch season is just around the corner. Naturally, most of the boys are jabbering about Quidditch. Even Severus prattled on about Quidditch with Terry and Silvia, every chance they got.
The competition is fierce, but among those that try out for the team, only a lucky few are successfully accepted onto the team to compete in the Quidditch School Cup. The triumphant few celebrate with friends the news of their success. Even those that do not make it onto the team are still cheered by the hope that their house team will win the Quidditch Cup.
With exams approaching, Rowan tactfully limited her research to only an hour or two each day. The days pass quietly with no sign or hint of trouble nor does Auror Moody reach out to her. With the Death Eaters' failure, all Aurors will likely be under surveillance including Moody.
The Dark Lord's fervent followers would be investigating any hint of strangeness. Moody and Rowan could ill afford to call attention to themselves at this time especially since Moody had no business ending a letter to Hogwarts. Moody had no children or relatives of that age attending Hogwarts. It would only serve to raise suspicions.
With her research on hold, Rowan occasionally in her spare time ponders the concept of a Horcrux itself. The little that is written about Horcrux is only mentioned briefly in a passage in Magick Moste Evile, which was once kept in the forbidden section of the library. The only other book that could mention a Horcrux more in detail is Secrets of the Darkest Art, which at present is locked and firmly kept under lock and key in the headmaster's office. Even knowing the location wouldn't be enough as the real problem was how to get into the office without being seen or caught by anyone including Dumbledore and his phoenix, Fawkes.
It wasn't as though Rowan didn't know how to create a Horcrux, it was quite simple really, murder. After killing the victim, the magical practitioner in question used the death of the victim, which inadvertently damaged the practitioner's soul. During that time frame, the magical practitioner must cast a forbidden spell, which would rip the damaged soul portion away from the soul and allow a portion of the soul to be encased in a nearby object.
But what Rowan wanted to know more about is information about the damaged soul portion. Because if she could understand the soul a bit more, it may be possible to create a spell to search for damaged soul portions such as a Horcrux! However, even if her research failed that did not mean it would open other avenues of research.
A sharp voice interrupted Rowan's thought. "Pray do tell us, Miss Prince, what is preventing you from paying attention in class?" Professor McGonagall sternly gazed at the first-year Slytherin.
Rowan blinked with a tad of embarrassment at being caught as her mind kicked into high gear. "Well, I was wondering about you, Professor McGonagall."
Professor McGonagall blinks in surprise as Severus stares at Rowan with accusatory eyes that scream, "Liar! You were asleep again, I bet!"
"And pray tell, what is that, Miss Prince?" Professor McGonagall pointedly inquired.
"Well, I heard rumors from the older boys that you were quite the talented Quidditch player in your time as a Gryffindor student but was taken out by a foul during a Slytherin and Gryffindor final match. And considering that the first match of the season is Slytherin versus Gryffindor, I was just hoping that there wouldn't be any hard feelings if we cheered for our house," Rowan purposefully answered in an attempt to distract the astute professor.
Professor McGonagall is silent as the entire class openly gapes unable to believe that Professor McGonagall was once a Quidditch player in her youth. It can be difficult for children to imagine the adults known to them (or in this case Professors) once also were children. A common thought by all children since the dawn of time itself.
"No, Miss Prince, I shall not mind. For just as all of you will be cheering for your house, I shall surely be cheering for Gryffindor to crush Slytherin under their feet," Professor McGonagall said with a faint teasing smile.
The class chokes at witnessing an unbelievable miracle before them, Professor McGonagall smiling. "Well, I look forward to a good match as well," Rowan answered with a rueful grin of her own.
Professor McGonagall briskly resumes proper class decorum. "Alright everyone, now let us return to where we left off," and continues her lecture.
After class, Severus mutters in accusatory disbelief. "I don't how you do it, but that wasn't what you were thinking about at all! Because I'm fairly certain that you were half-asleep!"
"How do you now? Can you read minds yet?" Rowan playfully answered innocently batting her eyelashes at Severus. "Besides I wasn't snoring, so I couldn't have possibly been asleep."
Severus snorts at the response. "Whatever it was, it's not like you're going to tell me. And secondly, I am certain that you can sleep with your eyes half-open!"
"Ah, Sev, are you jealous?" Rowan teased wrapping an arm around Severus and pulling him close enough until they are cheek to cheek.
Severus roughly pulls himself away with an aloof glare. "I will ignore you, peasant woman," he loftily said, before stomping off. Rowan recklessly grinned and chases after him. Because after all, sometimes it is quite a bit of fun to tweak a sibling's tail. And most especially that of Severus's.