Despite having every single intent of going to bed on time, Rowan did not as she impatiently waited up until everyone was sound asleep. Unable to teleport with her unexpected charge, Rowan snuck out of the Slytherin Common Rooms. With teeth clattering and her every breath visible, she hurried through the frozen dungeons to an empty classroom up on the first floor.
Carefully setting the glass jar on the floor first, Rowan carefully began to trace rune marks on the floor with her wand to create a temporary holding space. It took her some time and by the time she straightened up her joints were stiff from having knelt on the cold stone floor. Satisfied, she began to remove the spells on the glass jar, before opening the glass jar.
The glittering beetle angrily zooms out, but forcibly is brought down to the floor. The beetle buzzes angrily but cannot fly off. The animagus thwarted in her attempt to escape, Rita Skeeter returns to her human form. The young blond reporter's elaborate, rigid curls were in disarray falling over her face and shoulders. Her heavy jawed face is tight in irritation.
The jeweled spectacles studded with rhinestones hang rather offside of Rita Skeeter's nose. Her thick fingers that end in two-inch claw-like painted nails are chipped as if she had attempted to scratch out an escape. Here penciled-one eyebrows are slightly smeared rather than sharp. Her emerald robes are in disarray, but she quickly smoothed them down.
Rita Skeeter's nose flares once or twice before a professional smile appears on her face. At her side is her ever-trusty crocodile-skin handbag that is filled with a trusty acid green feathered Quick-Quotes quill. Clutching her handbag in her hand, her crimson nails tap patiently against the golden handbag clasp.
"Miss Prince, it is a pleasure to see you again on such short notice," Rita Skeeter convincingly said as if it had all been a part of her plan. "Why just imagine my surprise, when an unexcepted late-night visit is paid to the handsome, rugged caretaker of Hogwarts by the Slytherin maiden that is betrothed to the Potter heir. Goodness gracious, tongues will absolutely wag."
"Is that a threat, Miss Skeeter?" Rowan calmly asked with a frigid gleam.
"It is a reporter's solemn duty to present the truth to her faithful readers," Rita Skeeter confidently answered.
"I believe that you are terribly mistaken about something, Miss Skeeter," Rowan coldly said as she took a step closer to the trapped witch. "This is not an extortion attempt, Miss Skeeter, but rather a verdict to determine if you are worthy of being kept alive."
The blood completely vanishes from Miss Skeeter's face. Her chipped crimson nails dig into her crocodile handbag leaving dents. "This is Hogwarts! Everyone will know if a murder is committed!"
"Who will know, Miss Skeeter?" Rowan asked as she toyed with her wand in her wand. "Need I remind you that Tom Marvolo Riddle committed a murder right under the nose of Albus Dumbledore? Or the fact that no one knows that you are animagus and much less that you are here. Who is to say that you did not mysteriously disappear into unknown whereabouts?"
For the first time, genuine fear and horror begin to appear in Rita Skeeter's eyes. "You wouldn't," she gasped. "No, you can't!"
"Oh? Give me one good reason why I should not Miss Skeeter?" Rowan frigidly asked. "I have nothing to lose, but the same cannot be said about you. Still, I will be gracious about it and permit you a minute to come up with a suitable response to change my mind."
Rita's eyes behind her rhinestone-studded spectacles frantically move about in thought. As if to increase the pressure, Rowan pulls out a silver pocket watch from her pocket and says, "Tick tock."
Rita abruptly finds that her mouth and lips are dry. Her heart loudly beats in her ears and her breathing sounds far too loudly. Her face feels frozen, yet her body feels flushed. It is a strange contradiction. Her eyes scurry like trapped rats back and forth and widen in horror at seeing Rowan Prince snap the pocket watch shut.
"Wait, I will swear an allegiance to the Prince household!" Rita Skeeter shrieked in distress.
"Go on, I am listening," Rowan motioned to the reporter to continue.
"I will swear an unbreakable vow," Rita Skeeter hastily said.
"An Unbreakable Vow can be gotten around," Rowan chillingly said. "However, I suppose in lieu of anything else, I will consider it as a temporary stop measure for now."
Much to the visible relief of Rita Skeeter. However, the following words filled her soul with dread. "No, Miss Skeeter, we will create a goblin contract. I don't trust anything that is not in writing and does not have a measure of a witness for both parties' sake."
"Tadbey!" Rowan loudly summoned and waited for the paid house elf to appear.
Seeing nothing occur, Rita Skeeter begins to relax until a loud pop is heard. She blinks in surprise at seeing a male house elf appear wearing crisp blue overalls and a white starched, ironed shirt. The house elf's large ears have tufts of hair, bare hairy toes, and a pair of spectacles that hang on a long nose.
"Miss Prince, why I have been summoned at this ungodly hour?" Tadbey asked with great disapproval.
Rita Skeeter almost chokes at hearing a house elf address their master in that rude manner. And she truly begins to choke when she hears Rowan's following words. "I apologize Tadbey for the lateness, but there was an unexpected complication."
Tadbey narrows his eyes and gazes at the witch trapped in the circle of runes. "Is that not the nosey reporter from the Daily Prophet?"
"That is correct," Rowan deadpanned. "I found her earlier this evening in her animagus form spying at Hagrid's place. I had already clearly warned her during the Triwizard Tournament, but she did not take my warning to heart."
Tadbey's eyes narrowed dangerously into slits. "What is the wretched reporter's animagus form?"
"A beetle," Rowan drily conveyed. "The reporter vowed to swear an unbreakable vow, but I trust not her word. There are always ways to get around such oaths. No, take her to grandfather to have her sign a goblin contract of confidence."
"I see," Tadbey said and loudly snapped his fingers. House elf was always viewed as weak, but a house elf's magic is as strong as their master's desires or in this case his employer.
To her shock and horror, Rita Skeeter was forcibly forced back into her animagus form by the house elf magic. She angrily tried to fly away, but the house elf easily captured in the glass jar and magically sealed the jar.
Tucking the glass jar away, Tadbey asked, "Are there any restrictions to convey to Master?"
"Ensure that Rita Skeeter is not permitted to speak nor write about Hagrid or his family nor anything else Hogwarts that she might have illegally overheard," Rowan sternly instructed. "I am certain that grandfather will be far cleverer in entrapping her into a lifetime of servitude."
"I will convey your wishes, Miss Prince," Tadbey solemnly declared before vanishing with a pop.
Rowan sighed, before vanishing the rune marks from the stone floor that she had worked so hard to create. Still, she could not hide the satisfied smile on her lips. Rita Skeeter although an annoying reporter with questionable ethics was incredibly useful in certain settings. It was an excellent move and one that she was certain her grandfather would greatly appreciate.
With a soft hum, Rowan teleported back to her dorm room to sleep. Tomorrow would an especially long day as it was the eve of the Lunar New Year. She had the inkling that all students including younger years would be permitted to stay up until midnight to bring about the Lunar New Year. It would be the Year of the Dragon.