The golden doorknob leading to Professor Slughorn is turned and opened by Professor Mortimer. There is a hawk-like gaze as she motions for Rowan to step inside first, but Rowan pointedly shakes her head against the suggestion. "After you, Professor," Rowan politely replied with a gesture of her hand. "It is only fitting that the eldest enters first."
Professor Mortimer's lips curl with a hint of approval. "Indeed, I shall," she paused, "That being said, Prefect Prince, I shall stick close to you for the duration of Slughorn's banquet. And do not think for a moment that I do this out of the goodness out of my heart, but rather my precious baby cousin requested this of me. Apparently, my baby cousin in years past used to guard thine maiden virtue, but with his ongoing courtship, he cannot act in the same manner as in the past. He has his courting partner to consider."
"Then you have my belated gratitude, Professor Mortimer," Rowan sincerely said bending her neck in a slight bow towards the elder cousin of Terry.
"Step lively, Prefect Prince," Professor Mortimer crisply said before whirling away and plunging into the quarters of Professor Slughorn.
Not wanting to be left behind, Rowan hurriedly follows Professor Mortimer only slowing down enough shut the door behind her. The sound of music and many conversations fills the expanded office of Slughorn's office. The ceiling and walls this evening were draped in emerald and blue hangings to look as they were inside an elegant vast tent. Golden ornate lamps pour off golden light to warm the room and create an outdoor sensation. Although smack dab in the center of the ceiling real fairies flutter about, each a speck of floating light.
Rowan shivers and firmly pulls her gaze away from the fairies on the ceiling. She had a perpetual dislike for the sharp-teethed buggers. And despite all these years, they still gave her the willies. Maybe, it was the way, they looked or moved, but she would never be fond of fairies.
The room was a bit crowded as most of the guests had already arrived. Yet the crowd seemed to unconsciously part ways to allow Professor Mortimer to easily pass through. Rowan picked up her pace to stick close to the fast-moving form of Professor Mortimer through the crowd.
In the corner of the Slughorn's office musicians played a tranquil melody, while a cloudy haze of pipe smoke hung over a group of elderly warlocks in deep conversation. Several house elves in neat little black uniforms make their way through the throng as they elegantly serve and carry silver platters of food. And though Rowan was starving, she had the feeling that the food would only taste like ash in her mouth. Any food for that matter.
"Ah, there you are, Prefect Prince," Professor Slughorn exclaimed as he trotted over to them. Wearing a tasseled velvet hat with a matching smoke jacket, Professor Slughorn looked a bit like a round teddy bear plushie.
Professor Slughorn unexpectedly wilts at catching the angelic, but predatory figure standing just behind Prefect Prince. Professor Slughorn's pale-colored eyes tremble with shock and anxiously reaches up to pull on his walrus mustache. A tiny bead of sweat can be seen sprouting on top of his balding head. "Er, Professor Mortimer, I did not see you there," he apprehensively said reaching up to lightly dab at his forehead with a silk handkerchief. "I thought you said that you had zero interest in attending," his voice cracked and trailed off.
"Plans change, Professor Slughorn," Professor Mortimer replied with an innocent smile on her face. "And how could I possibly miss such a valuable opportunity to socialize?"
Professor Slughorn loudly gulps and fretfully shifts on his feet. "Of course, there is no sense in missing such a valuable opportunity. If Prefect Prince would follow me, I would like to introduce you to several guests of mine-."
"There is no need," Professor Mortimer mercilessly interrupted. "Prefect Prince was explicitly placed in my care for the duration of these social events."
Professor Slughorn faces blanches with fear misunderstanding Professor Mortimer's words and associating them to one, Reginald Prince. Well, Rowan had been placed into Professor Mortimer's care by Terry Greengrass, Professor Mortimer's younger cousin. But Professor Slughorn had no way of knowing that.
"Naturally, naturally," Professor Slughorn blustered as he hastily wiped even more nervous sweat from his brow. "I shall not disturb either of you or permit those interested to seek you out on your own terms. Now, if you would excuse me, I have just spotted a dear old friend!" Before waddling away at full pace to flee to another corner of the room lest he somehow attracts Reginald Prince's attention!
Rowan watches Professor Slughorn flee with a mildly impressed expression on her face. Turning towards Professor Mortimer, she arches her brow at her. "I have to wonder how exactly you persuaded Professor Slughorn to step down from Head of House considering that he was not whatsoever terrified nor wary at that time, Professor Mortimer."
Professor Mortimer's lips twitch into a smug smile. "Flattery is a useful tool of the trade, Prefect Prince. It is a tool that is most often undervalued but with enough pressure. A crack will appear in the strongest of shields creating a visible weakness to exploit."
Rowan slowly nodded her head thoughtfully at the reply. The use of Flattery was explained so logically indeed it did seem to be a valuable skill to have. On occasions she could flatter others, but not well enough nor did she possess the patience needed to exploit the skill to its full potential. She possessed far too much pride if she was perfectly honest about her own personal character.
"We should stroll around the room at least once," Professor Mortimer said with an insincere expression, before motioning for Rowan to stick close.
Slowing down her pace, Professor Mortimer idly chatters to Rowan. Pointing slightly and rather subtly with two figures in the distance, she says, "The pureblood wizard standing there with the pointed chin and angry brows is Devante Nott."
Professor Mortimer's lips curled in dislike. "Nott is to be avoided; he has a taste for the younger flesh." Her lips curl in a thinly veiled sneer. "You should be safe considering your age but keep a close eye out on the younger girls present lest they are approached by him."
Rowan's eyes abruptly widen in recognition of the name that she knew from Charlus Potter's list of potential candidates of Hydra. The tall wizard with a pointy chin and angry-looking brows was speaking to a proud wild-looking wizard with an arrogant gaze, Linus Gamp. It was one of the top candidates on Charlus Potter's list!
Rowan's eyes tremble in shock at seeing the two candidates on the list speaking to each other. For Devante Nott was a Death Eater, and Linus Gamp was the owner of the Chudley Cannons. Still, one was a proud Gryffindor and the other a Slytherin with a heinous reputation. There should be no reason for the two wizards to be able to chat so comfortably considering their differences in personality and character.
Rowan's eyes shake at the implications, before forcefully pulling her gaze away from the two wizards. Her mind races, before pushing the train of thought of a way. She unconsciously glances down to see goosebumps on the back of her hand. A sickly feeling begins to swirl in the pit of her stomach.
It would seem that Rowan had vastly underestimated the depth of deceit and treachery that her opponent was capable of. She had been under the impression the entire time that Hydra would only dare to take one such vessel of her list. She and Charlus had been so very wrong, there had been at least two Hydra vessels on that list. In retrospect, it made perfect sense, a Gryffindor vessel to subtly attack from the flank as a distraction and a Slytherin vessel to directly manipulate Tom Riddle.
However, Devante Nott was only one of two Slytherin candidates. There was still Oswaldo Burstrode to consider. Could all the candidates possibly be vessels of Hydra? No, Kain Shafiq was not, or least when Rowan had met him, but that would explain how Charlus Potter had died. For if more than one of the names on the candidate list is a vessel for Hydra then Charlus Potter's investigation would have been eventually been noticed by the vessels. They would have and did effectively silence him.
Rowan's eyes narrow even further and let out a soft quivering breath. She would have to immediately desist in further investigating any of the candidates on the list nor exclude anyone except for possibly Kain Shafiq. She would have to review the list of potential candidates again. For it was possible that some of those candidates were not vessels at that time and since had been turned. For with Hydra nothing ever could be certain. Because like the ancient magical creature of old, when one head was removed from the Hydra two more sprouted in its place.