Chapter 777 - Slug Club Banquet Ⅲ (1/2)
The music in the background had changed to a fasted paced jig. Several guests in the background bob their heads to the beat or sway slightly to the music. Professor Mortimer had not been moved by the entrancing tune as she observed the guests. Noting the stillness of Prefect Prince, she glances at the 5th year girl only to see Rowan Prince's ghastly pallor and a hint of sincere apprehension on the girl's face.
Professor Mortimer frowns and glances around to see what may have caused the change in Prefect Prince's demeanor, but she spots nothing to indicate otherwise. Her eyes narrowed and a golden hawk-like gleam shone from the depth as she observed the group again. Institutively, a perturbing sense seemed to carry over from the corner from where Nott and Gamp were standing. An unnatural presence is emitted from them causing the tiny hairs on the back of her neck to stand up like ruffled bird feathers.
Professor Mortimer pensively tears her gaze to eye from the pair of wizards towards Rowan Prince. The Prince lineage did not possess any creature blood in them as far as she knew, but they did possess the blood of Salazar Slytherin, Ambrosius Merlin, and that of the Percussor's. Despite the thousands of years since the destruction of the last of the wizard assassin clans, the instincts of Percussor's had not wholly faded away over the course of a thousand years and instead was still passed down even until this day. It would be interesting to observe just what would come of it.
”Come, we have tarried long enough,” Professor Mortimer firmly instructed, before leading Rowan away to introduce and mingle with various guests.
Rowan forced herself not to flinch and to relax her rigid spine. She could not show her nerves even though every instinct within her warned her to not turn her back on those two. Taking a deep breath, she reminded herself of one very important thing. If the Snape's did indeed possess the blood of Helga Hufflepuff, then no matter how diluted the blood was, they still carried the blood of goblins via Helga's father. And a single drop of blood was all it took to ensure that possession from Hydra was impossible. That did not exclude other external nor manipulative factors, but merely that she nor Severus could ever be possessed by the entity.
Feeling somewhat calmer, Rowan eased her expression into a polite poker face. She greeted a few guests as she passed with a small tilt of her head or a faint smile. Yet from within her, the death magic surged as if intrigued and hungry for a meal. A poisonous idea crept into her mind whispering for her to unleash the spell on her left eye and take a closer look at the suspected Hydra vessels.
Rowan pressed her lips tightly together and breathed deeply through her nose. It was the residual taint from the death magic within her. It was something that hungered for more and more death, a bottomless pit. She had failed to notice with Kain Shafiq until now, but she had vastly underestimated the effects and power of the death magic contained within her.
It was easy to see how Voldemort eventually lost himself even if one excluded the Horcruxes. There is an awful taint left behind by any of those that are touched by death. Even young Potter's rash behavior could be seen and explained in such a manner.
Excluding the fact that Rowan would be left helpless if she removed the spell on her left eye, there was no guarantee that she would be able to reapply it again. As of late, the headaches and pain in her left side had increased and worsened. Nor the fact that she might actually lose her vision in her left eye considering how s.e.n.s.i.t.i.v.e her left eye was.
Lastly, once the spell was off her left eye, many would notice and surely bring forth a tidal wave of questions that she could not answer nor explain away. Far more powerful foes had fallen prey to the whims of Hydra including her ancestors. No, if she wished to survive, she must outmaneuver her opponent from the shadows. It was Hydra underestimating her that would ensure her survival.
Rowan relaxed again causing Professor Mortimer to send Rowan another assessing gaze. Professor Mortimer picked up the pace when greeting that in a relatively short period they had almost traversed the entire course of the room, and were winding back around when Professor Slughorn emerged with a figure near his elbow. It was a rather elegant gentleman with a regal air about him. His bronze-colored hair was silver-streaked and well-cut. There was a neat gentleman's beard trimmed in the partisan style of fashion. Overall, a rather sophisticated, crisp appearance.
”Just a moment, Professor Mortimer,” Professor Slughorn hesitantly called out. ”I would like to introduce to you, a brilliant alchemist and one of my former students, a Ravenclaw, Murtagh Burke.”
Rowan carefully keeps her face blank to not reveal any of her internal shook. Once was a coincidence, but twice was not nor much less thrice. There was no such thing as coincidences especially in the wizarding realm for three was the Ancient Runes symbol represented by the three-headed Runespoor. A rare magical serpent associated with all that is dark, but most importantly each Runespoor head functioned apart from each other and in its own manner. The first head, the Planner, the second head the Dreamer, and the third head the Critic. Or worse yet, the three Hallows, but all represented power and the dark arts.