As the last weekend of March approached so did the Hogsmeade trip. The weather had become drier and warmer except when it wasn't. It was cold and wet with rumbling thundering storms and rain. It'd be bright and sunny in the morning only to be pouring in the afternoon or vice-versa.
With a firm intent in mind, Rowan arose early and snuck down into the kitchens for a very early breakfast. She carefully tickled the pair within the painting of a gigantic silver fruit bowl. The green pear began to wiggle and squirm loudly chuckling before a large green door handle appears. With ease, she turns the handle and pulls the door open to step inside.
The door closes as Rowan reflexively glances up at the enormous, high-ceiling room that is as large as the Great Hall above it only instead of reflecting the sky, it reflects the house tables above. There are mounds of glittering brass pots and pans heaped against the stone walls. There are countless new kitchen instruments including proper tea-making tea sets. There were even bookshelves filled with new recipe books! But the one thing that had not changed was the great brick fireplace that was always roaring.
Rowan is unable to suppress a smile as the house elves swarm toward her. The Hogwarts male house elves wore spotless tea-towels with neat little black buttoned-up jackets with a dark gray vest underneath. Their white cuffs are spotless with shinty button cufflinks with a gleaming golden embroider H on them. The female house elves wear adorable little French maid uniforms including a little cap on their heads. The spotless white aprons have an identical engraved H on a corner of their aprons. There are matching black stockings with tiny, delicate black slippers.
"You have not come to visit us," chided Habbey, an outspoken male with pointed ears.
"My apologies I have been rather busy," Rowan sincerely apologized.
A watery, blue-eyed female, Toppy happily fluttered her skirt. "All is forgiven," she squeaked. "How can we serve?" The house elves happily crowd closer eagerly awaiting orders.
"Just a bit of tea and a light meal, please, I have a long day ahead and I don't want to feel overly full," Rowan instructed.
"We will gladly serve," the house elves said in unison, before scurrying off to prepare a meal. The rest of the house elves returned to their task of preparing breakfast of the students.
Rowan chats for a few minutes before her tea arrives accompanied by a scone. She begins to eat and eat a bit more until she is nearly too full to eat. Finally, after many goodbyes, she escapes the kitchen. Rather full, she slowly lumbers through the dungeons and up the winding staircase to the main floor.
Emerging near the Great Hall, Rowan only stopped by to stick her head inside to learn the weather. The Great Hall is devoid of any human presence as the heavy clouds hang overhead with the threat of another downpour. Satisfied with her selection choice of clothes, she hurries to the front entrance. There was only one carriage ready having made a special request to Hagrid for a very early ride to Hogsmeade.
Pausing just short of the carriage, Rowan pointed her wand at her scarf and clothing. "Colovaria," she wordlessly cast the color-changing charm to temporarily turn her cloak and scarf black. Pulling her hood up, she reaches for the carriage door handle and climbs inside firmly closing the carriage door shut after.
The pair of reptilian-like skeleton horses, Thestral's snort at the weight, before pulling the carriage forward. Rowan feels slightly affronted at the reaction. "I'm not that heavy," she grumbled under her breath.
In the dark gray morning sky, a few birds flitter about riding the early morning breezes. There are large signs stating that the lake is not to skate on. The outer ice layers had already melted away leaving muddy banks behind. The inner portions of the lake were still frozen, but as thin layers of ice. They would finish melting soon enough with a warm spring day. Still, that didn't deter students from trying…
There was a reason Hagrid had gotten so good at swimming. As it turns out, many students couldn't swim to save their life! If the embarrassment didn't kill them, the loss of points and weeks of detentions at least deterred them from trying again. Of course, there was also the other side…. students led by lustful hormones liked to see the muscular wet body of Hagrid. Needless to say, it wasn't just foolhardy students who lacked any sense of self-preservation who were jumping into the icy lake. Teen hormones are a very powerful motivator…
Reaching into her pocket, Rowan pulled out her silver pocket watch. She nods her head approvingly, before teleporting out of the carriage to the Hogs Head Inn. Soft hay is felt under her feet as she opens her eyes and wrinkles her nose at the overpowering scent of goats. A spotted goat named Butter loudly bleated at Rowan wanting a scratch behind the ears.
Seeing the spotted goat being so loud, Rowan sighs and walks over to Butter. She scratches the goat behind the ears and under his chin. Butter happily closes his eyes and enjoys the moment.
Seeing Butter's content and satisfied, Rowan pulls away to knock on the back door only to find Aberforth glaring at her from the doorway. The long wiry, gray-haired wizard narrowed his deep blue eyes from behind mostly clean spectacles. His gray hair and beard were still neatly trimmed, and his clothes were clean including his apron. His appearance truly had come a long way since Rowan had met him.
"You should have ignored the goat," Aberforth growled. "Otherwise, you're only spoiling Butter!"
Rowan arched her brow at Aberforth as if to say, "You're the one that gave the goat the name in the first place."
"Hurry inside," Aberforth grumbled stepping aside for Rowan to hurry in. Before closing the door, he gives the spotted goat the stink eye, but Butters smugly bleated back before turning back to eat the hay and plan his next escape.
"Hurry up," Aberforth shooed Rowan up the staircase before him. Rowan nimbly darts up the creaking staircase before arriving at Alphard's personal alcove. A warm fire burns in the fireplace shedding a gentle light upon the polished furniture and old bookshelf. The immaculate frame of Ariana Dumbledore hangs on the mantelpiece. Ariana's chest-length golden hair is neatly pulled back and her bright blue eyes stare through them as she cradles a book in her arms.
Rowan blinks in surprise at spotting the addition of added portraits to the hearth. There were several pictures of the entire Dumbledore family. She stepped closer in fascination at seeing a young proud Albus Dumbledore straightened up proudly, while Aberforth happily laughs. Merely a toddler, Ariana cuddles on her mother's lap, Kendra Dumbledore, who proudly sits next to their father, Percival Dumbledore.
Having never seen the two, she was naturally surprised since not much was said about the parents of the Dumbledore family. Rowan leans in for a closer look. Kendra Dumbledore was a lovely witch with jet-black hair pulled back in a high bun. She had dark eyes, high cheekbones, and a straight nose. Her face had a carved quality to it almost as if she had been carved from marble.
Rowan knew that Kendra Dumbledore was a muggleborn, but she looked almost foreign. She easily could have Native American ancestry or Roman based on her high cheekbones. And there truly was never even the slightest mention of where exactly Kendra came from. A strange mystery in retrospect.
Pensive Rowan turns to study Percival Dumbledore. A rather good-looking wizard with the same twinkling blue eyes that Albus possessed. The magical portrait of the long-ago deceased wizard gaily winked at Rowan. In some ways, he greatly reminded Rowan of Albus Dumbledore, or then again that should be said in reverse.
Percival Dumbledore had been a pureblood wizard, who had the audacity to marry a muggleborn witch. There must have been quite the burning fire within him. Something that most people forget is that Fire is both good and bad. And those flames had been stoked by hatred to become a raging inferno that could not be put out.
Percival Dumbledore had avenged his daughter, Ariana only to be sentenced to Azkaban and perish there. A kind and loving father, but at the same time cruel and vengeful enough to avenge his daughter. The attack of three muggle boys in Mould-on-the-Wold should not have condemned Percival to Azkaban. No, it must have been more than just a simple petty hex or jink only dark curse warrants that type of incarceration likely the Cruciatus Curse.
And Albus Dumbledore in Potter's time was the grayest wizard of them all. The thing about gray is that can be nearly as dark as black to nearly pearly white. However, that's just it. Gray comes in all shapes and sizes. There is no limit to the in-between.