Chapter 778 - Slug Club Banquet Ⅳ

The violin ceases to play, and a round of applause is heard from the crowd, who applaud the bowing musician. A beautiful, but fast-moving waltz begins to play as the crowd returns to their conversations. Amid it all, none had noticed the trio of wizards scattered through the chamber, who possessed nearly identical self-satisfied expressions on their faces.

Murtagh Burke remains smiling at the fierce glaring of Professor Mortimer, who put a protective arm around Rowan Prince and helped the unsteady figure away. Not bothering to see the two witches out of Slughorn's office, he strides to the nearby corner, where Devante Nott and Linus Gamp have stealthily gathered at. However, had he paused to glance back over his shoulders, he would have seen the hint of a smile on Rowan Prince's sickly-looking face as she was supported and led away by Professor Mortimer. It was the smirk of a gambler, who had bet against the house and won.

With the murmur of the crowd and music safely covering them, Devante Nott and Linus Gamp share curious gazes as they gaze at Murtagh Burke, who looks like a kneazle that ate a bowl of cream. The wild, arrogant figure of Linus Gamp impatiently says, "Well? Is the girl of any worth?"

"Hardly except for a surprisingly high level of intellect," Murtagh Burke replied with a rather amused expression. "Though I suppose, we can't completely ignore her powers, but they are far weaker in comparison to that of her brother or that of Reginald Prince. In fact, they are much more volatile than is common for one of the Prince's bloodlines. A possible abnormality due to the combined lineages of our enemies or simply an anomaly based on her gender. Either way, the girl is not a viable threat. Though the twin brother has the potential to be a threat capable of even matching Reginald Prince. Still, the girl cannot be completely discounted, should she master the volatile power found within her body, she will be just as deadly as her twin brother."

There is a solemn expression on Devante Nott's face and that of Linus Gamp as they take the information seriously. "Then we will just have to use other methods to remove the male twin first as he is the most troubling twin out of the two of them," Devante Nott pensively murmured.

"Mm, we have an idea," Linus Gamp arrogantly suggested with a sharp grin. "Our youngest vessel has said on multiple occasions in the past that Prince male twin has an obvious weak spot beyond that of his twin sister. It is a muggleborn witch by the name of Lily Evans. And as previously suggested, it would not be difficult to take and possess her."

"Yes, but we cannot at this time," Devante Nott steadfastly answered before a pensive sly expression appears on his face. "We need further concern ourselves as we can afford to bide our time. Lily Evans will be the poisonous dagger that we plunge into the heart of the Prince grandchildren and especially that of Reginald Prince."

"Yes, though it is a shame that the wards of Hogwarts have sealed only all too well," Murtagh Burke murmured out loud. "We cannot take another vessel within these halls except for those that have already been accepted prior to the sealing of the wards."

"For now," Linus Gamp mutinously said with a terrible, hungry grin, before frowning as he glanced down at his hand. "We best begin to depart; the wards have begun to take a toll on our bodies." He hissed holding up his right palm that was bright red as if newly burned by a hot stove.

"It is rather uncomfortable," Devante Nott muttered showing his left swollen hand that looked badly bruised as though he had broken his hand.

"Yes, very much so," Murtagh Burke adamantly agreed and pulled back the collar of his shirt to reveal thin bleeding wounds around his neck. "Hogwarts has always been an irritable beast," he added with an uncomfortable expression on his face.

The three of them nod in unison in agreement, before separating each to bid farewell to their acquaintances or Slughorn in Murtagh Burke's case. Their wounds only worsened with each passing second that they remained but were well worth the sacrifice in their opinions. By the time the three wizards departed from the Hogwarts grounds, Devante's entire right arm was badly swollen, while the fingernails on Linus's had had all fallen off, and Murtagh Burke's white shirt was badly stained with blood from countless papercut sized wounds around his neck. In fact, they ran the last length of the grounds, before finally reaching the edge of the Hogwarts wards and hastily apparating away.

Back inside the castle, Professor Mortimer and Rowan had yet to arrive at the infirmary as they had to stop twice at two of the girl's restrooms for Rowan to spew the contents of her stomach. Panting, Rowan leans back for a moment to rest her head against the door of the cubicle and closes her eyes as not to watch the disgusting mess swirl away with the flush of the toilet. Much like the countless others, before her, she too upon occasion worshiped the god of porcelain.

Shaking from the physical and mental exertion, Rowan raises her hand to wipe the cold beads of sweat off her face with a grim smile. The reason for her smile was that she confirmed two of three things. Firstly, that Devante Nott, Linus Gamp, and Murtagh Burke were all vessels of Hydra. Secondly is that her mindscape had successfully protected the memories that she did not wish to be found. Despite reading through all the memories found throughout Hogwarts, Murtagh Burke had not found the hidden memories within the Room of Requirements that only a parselmouth could access.

When Murtagh Burke had first broken into Rowan's mind, her every instinct had been to fight. However, she forced herself to relax as her defenses fell with ease to Burke like butter being cleaved by a hot knife. Her gamble of creating several layers of memories had paid off. It was a relief to know that at least one thing had gone her way. For she did not dare to imagine what would have occurred had she elected to follow the same route as Severus.

Still, it had been far too close for comfort. Even now, Rowan shivered with dread at how easily Murtagh Burke had pierced through her mental shields. At least, it did confirm to her on solemn fact and that is that Kain Shafiq was not a member of Hydra. At least, not upon their last encounter.

Most importantly, Rowan had found Hydra's tail, and that was the precise problem. Just because she had found Hydra's tail did not mean as much as one would think. Because the problem wasn't finding Hydra's tail, but rather it's head. The most important matter was just which vessel happened to be the head/heart of Hydra. It was not a matter of simply failing to gamble correctly, but a certain death sentence.

Rowan's thoughts are interrupted by a gentle pounding at the door. "Prefect Prince, are you feeling better?" Professor Mortimer asked with no small measure of concern.

"I am feeling better now, thank you, Professor Mortimer, for asking," Rowan rasped as she weakly climbed to her feet and opened the door to the girl's bathroom.

Pointedly studying the pale, cold, sweat-covered face of Rowan Prince, Professor Mortimer frowns. "Prefect Prince, did Murtagh Burke perform an illegal legilimency on you?"

Rowan does not answer the question and instead says, "I believe I can make it to the infirmary from her, Professor Mortimer. Your assistance will no longer be required."

Professor Mortimer's eyes narrow dangerously, before nodding curtly at the girl. "Very well, Prefect Prince, I shan't pry this once. However, only this once," she warned.

"Your acquittance is much appreciated, Professor," Rowan sincerely said, before walking past the disapproving figure of Professor Mortimer and making her way down the hall.

The entire trip down the hallway, Rowan could feel the hawk-like gaze of Professor Mortimer on her back. It was not that Rowan could not trust Professor Mortimer, but she preferred not to at this time or maybe that simply was just a lie to console herself with. Rowan's streak of distrust was not always obvious, but in situations like these, it tended to rear its ugly head.

A tired sigh of relief escaped Rowan's throat as she made her way to the infirmary. Inside there were more than a few curtains pulled around white linen bedsheets for the privacy of the currently indisposed. A kind, but stern woman in her mid-thirties rushed about as her red dress, white apron, and white matron cap flutter about as she checks on patients and strictly fills the sweet boxes in neat rows next to each bedside.

Madam Pomfrey catches sight of the pale figure of Rowan and says, "Prefect Prince sit down this instant. You look as though a breeze will cause you to topple over!"

"Certainly, Madam Pomfrey," Rowan replied to the infirmary matron's orders, and with great relief stumbled into the nearest chair.

Madam Pomfrey begins to wave her wand performing diagnostic spells, before letting out a loud tsk-tsk sound. "Prefect Prince, you've run yourself ragged that your immune system has taken quite the hit. You've got the start of a nasty cold. I want you to lie down and rest! I'll be back shortly with something to get you back onto your feet!"

"Thank you, Madam Pomfrey," Rowan sincerely thanked the infirmary matron.

"Nonsense, it is my occupation and duty," Madam Pomfrey said, before flouncing away and shouting at two boys to desist in chatting and rest peacefully in silence. She had patients, who needed their rest!

Lying down on a white linen bed, Rowan tiredly pulled the covers and closed her eyes. Her head was pounding, her mouth was dry, and she felt a bit warm. Maybe, she was ill, but because of overexerting herself. Still, she was alive, and that was what counted in the end.

By the time, Madam Pomfrey returned with the potion in hand, Rowan was sound asleep. Not wanting to wake the sleeping Slytherin Prefect, Madam Pomfrey elected to spell the potion into her patient's stomach. It was not the preferred selection for a healer as many of the properties of a potion were rendered null, but at times that was the only available choice.

Madam Pomfrey wasn't too worried as she could always keep the poor girl in bed a day or two to rest. With that cheerful thought in mind, she flounced away to quiet down several noisy miscreants. She was running an infirmary, not a canteen!