There is a lapse of silence until Reginald breaks the silence. "And Fate is a vile trickster, Rowan," Reginald knowingly said with a distant look in his eye as he recalled a brilliant, and most charismatic wizard of the past. "Gellert Grindelwald too foresaw a different world and readily ran towards the promised glory of fate. And yet by doing all that he could to achieve the future which he readily foresaw, he sowed the seeds of his own destruction. In the end, Fate won because the house always wins, and Fate can never be cheated."
"Even so, grandfather," Rowan quietly replied, "I cannot give up even if the final result only ends in tragedy. I simply cannot and nor is it in me to do so."
"No, but that is what makes us humans," Reginald tiredly murmured with semi-closed eyes. "Because much like Icarus, who flew too close to the sun, and fell, we all still yearn to fly."
Opening his eyes, Reginald turns towards his granddaughter and says, "Let us return to the subject at hand. It is my understanding that the communications with your knights is few and far in-between and is solely limited to carefully worded messages. And if so, there must be a keeper that keeps secrets, and most importantly a spy."
Seeing his granddaughter's cool gaze, Reginald continues with his conjectures. "However, that is not what worries you, there is something else troubling you. I doubt it is politics' as you have not mentioned anything to me, and both you and your brother are acutely aware of the power of the Prince's within the sphere of politics among the wizarding world. And nor is it any other sphere as you have yet to say a word on the subject. No, it is something that is far more worrisome, a hidden enemy?"
Rowan presses her finger to her lips as if to motion silence and a great secret, before grabbing a sheet of parchment with ink and a quill. She carefully only writes one word, before turning the sheet to her grandfather. Reginald leans forward to only read a single word on the parchment, "HYDRA."
Reginald reads the simple word, before glancing sharply at his granddaughter. "An organization?" He coldly asked only to see Rowan shake her head and hold up a single finger.
Narrowing his eyes, Reginald stares at the name and back at his granddaughter with a cool gaze. "A dangerous mystery then," Reginald commented out loud with as the wheels in his mind slowly turned. "However, if what you are indeed suggesting is true, then it would seem that it is necessary and in both of our best interest that we both keep out of each other's way and limit the scope of impact of each other's spheres as best as we can."
"I wish I could tell you more, grandfather," Rowan truthfully murmured. "But I fear that there is no one that can be fully trusted including myself. And I am gravely concerned that the more aid I receive the more that fate will turn against me. The less details that we know about each other's business, the better."
Reginald lips twitch into the semblance of a smile, before he says, "As it should be. However, that being said, the Prince's move both in the light and dark circles of the wizarding world, and your brother will inherit those circles one day. It is tradition, and nor do I have any intentions of introducing the darker circles to you, Rowan."
"It is better that way," Rowan retorted. "I cannot be allowed to have access to some of those circles for a variety of reasons, but most importantly, I trust those contacts even less as they will be out of control." And she did not know, who or whom Hydra was. The only thing she had on her side was that knowledge, and once she lost that security, she would inevitably lose.
"Good, then you do understand," Reginald said, before changing the subject. "And what of your Aunt Georgine, how is she doing with you and Severus? I believe she has been teaching you the in's and outs of wizarding society in preparation of your presentation into society."
Rowan grimaces, before unenthusiastically answering in a monotone voice, "Despite Aunt Georgine's enthusiasm on the subject, it would seem that a great deal of preparation for that day involves the memorization of countless genealogies of those to be invited to the event."
"Your grandmother would have taught you and Severus earlier-," Reginald started to say, before his voice trailed off. A heavy silence falls over the room upon recalling the deceased Sirsa Prince.
Not wanting to discuss the still sensitive subject, Rowan rises to her feet and says, "Then I shall be going now," and turns to leave, before coming to an abrupt halt at the door. Without turning back, she asks over her shoulder, "Grandfather, you never asked me about how I came to acquire said mysterious knowledge?"
"We are Prince's," Reginald snorted. "We always know that which we shouldn't."
"True enough, I suppose," Rowan said with a bit of a chuckle, before opening the door and closing it shut behind her.
The faint smile on Reginald's lips fades away as he turns his gaze to the single word on the piece of parchment on his desk, "HYDRA." It reminded him of a story that he had once heard during his stay with his cousins in the ancestral land. It was said that there once was a wizard, who wished for immortality, but could not achieve it. And so, he sought to kill another, when he discovered that he could break his soul into pieces. And he did, but he was betrayed by one of his own, and they, who destroyed his vile work, the infamous parselmouth known as Herpo, the Foul.
However, unlike the rest of the wizarding world, there was a small detail to this ancient historical tale clouded in myth and legend that had not been lost. It was said that an apprentice had survived and carried away the work of his beloved master. It was whispered to the Hassan children as a warning and a lullaby, "Hush, little child, be good. Hush, little child, the beast comes. Hush, little child, he will eat you. Hush, my child, hush." And even legends are based on long forgotten facts.
Rising to his feet, Reginald tosses the parchment into the fireplace and watches the parchment curl up into smithereens. Turning away, he departs from his study and makes his way up to the attic to find the handsome, ghostly figure of Sir Knight Prince playing chess with his body. Without even glancing up from his match, Sir Knight Prince says, "Well, what is it, Reginald? It certainly must be interesting if you have come to visit me, all the way up here."
"I have a question for the keeper of the Prince household," Reginald formally said causing Sir Knight Prince to frown.
"Are you certain that you wish to invoke that vow, Reginald?" Sir Knight Prince coldly asked, no longer seeming like the peaceful, friendly ghost that he was, but something far more frightening and inhuman. The temperature in the attic begins to plummet as an icy breeze is felt and the lit candles begin to flicker and burn with blue flames.
"Yes," Reginald steadfastly replied with a determined glint in his eyes.
"So, mote be," Sir Knight Prince as the ghostly body grabbed the ghostly head and placed it on the ghostly body. Strangely, and against impossible odds, the head and body almost seemed to reconnect to form a terrible gaping wound around the entirety of the neck.