Chapter 438 - Third Task Ⅳ (1/2)
The diversion had worked to absolute perfection. While everyone went in the direction of the wounded Death Eater, Rowan teleported to the old home hidden deep in the swamp. She'd only done so because the place read as, Death Eater Hide Out on her mind mapscape. Naturally, she was going to go and take a closer look.
Rowan teleported into the empty, worn mansion and closed her eyes again. Quickly she searched for any item that read as a diary. She found several, but all of which belonged to other Death Eater's. Finally, it occurred to her to start in the most obvious place, Riddle's personal chambers. Resisting the urge to slap her forehead she closed her eyes again. She had to spend less time with wizards, she felt as through her common sense was being eroded away. But of course, that wasn't possible at all, when she was a witch herself.
Quickly in her mind, Rowan spots the chamber that reads as Lord Voldemort's Personal Chambers. Quickly scanning through the items in the room, her mind comes to rest upon a certain item that reads as Tom Marvolo Riddle's diary. Jackpot!
Another teleport later, and Rowan appears in a dark room with green and silver serpents on the bedding. ”What is he still acting like your typical stereotype of a Slytherin teenage male?” Rowan muttered to herself as she made her way to the locked trunk. ”How the hell is he not embarrassed? He's a grown a*s wizard for heaven's sake!”
Falling silent, Rowan pointedly stares at the trunk sitting at the foot of the bed in front of her. Now the question was how to get the thing open without killing herself. The locking charm would surely be too obvious to use, and the trunk is densely protected with magic, she could tell by the thick power surrounding the trunk.
If she casted such a spell, it would have surely caused the protections spells set in place to be released and attack her. And she wasn't foolish enough to believe that she could teleport faster than the spell matrix being flung at her. She'd knew that without a doubt she would catch the full brunt of the attack. The better question is whether she could survive such an attack?
Pointing her wand at the trunk, Rowan is about to cast a revealing spell, when her common sense kicked in. Almost in pure disbelief she mutters under her breath, ”It surely can't be that easy, can it?” But then again, there's no other parselmouth in existence in Great Britain at least other than Riddle himself. And she wasn't foolish enough to assume that there aren't any other parselmouth's in existence anywhere elsewhere in the magical known world.
Slowly lowering her wand, Rowan leans cautiously forward and whispers in parseltongue, ”Open for Salazar's heir.” The trunk springs open with a soft click as the trunk revealed the hidden contents found within. There at the bottom of the trunk is an innocent looking black leather diary.
Rowan reflexively reached for her pouch to find it wasn't there. Glancing at the horcrux, she knew she couldn't just leave it here. But neither could she take it away with her. The darkness of the horcrux would slowly begin to chip away at her mind and body. And she knew that she wasn't impervious to the influence of a Horcrux, the Ravenclaw Diadem had proven that point almost too well for her comfort of mind.
Quickly Rowan automatically runs down the list of things capable of destroying a Horcrux. Basilisk Poison? Back at Hogwarts inside her mokeskin pouch safely inside her school trunk. Great good Godric Gryffindor's sword? Also located back at Hogwarts, and is still at present inside a most unsanitary, ancient magical hat. Plus, she'd need to pour a drop of Basilisk venom or two on the blade in order for the silver goblin forged blade to work.
That left one other option, Fiendfyre. But the more pertinent question, could she even control the magical flames? The flames tended to have a will of their own and if the caster was weak in any form, the flames would consume the caster, and the yet unborn, Vincent Crabbe had proven that point rather all too well.
Still Rowan lips pressed into a thin line as she made her choice. Raising her wand firmly into the air, she pointed her wand at the black diary and mutters the incantation. Strangely, the fearful fiery creatures don't emerge from the tip of her wand, but rather a mare Thestral. The flaming Thestral lets out a loud whicker, before stomping directly on the black diary.