New Year’s Eve Announcement Ⅱ

Seeing James fall into silence, Rowan takes a seat next to him in the open chair. She waits patiently until James's hazel eyes grow clear and focused. "On a side note, I do have one thing to mention," she idly remarked.

"And what might that be?" James curiously inquired.

"Aunt Georgine," Rowan paused to carefully phrase her wording, "has tenured her resignation as the professor of Defense Against the Dark Arts. I would recommend that upon your return to Hogwarts that you and Severus request that her emergency replacement take the primary advisor role for the D.A. club. Professor Flitwick already has several clubs under his belt and won't be able to be the primary advisor in full capacity even if he wishes to."

"Professor Prince resigned?" James said alarmed. "Why?"

"Personal reasons, really," Rowan drily replied. "And well, should you stay long enough, well, you will soon enough learn the exact reason why."

Furrowing his brow, James opens his mouth to speak, a loud popping sound interrupts them. They both turn towards the source only to see Tadbey in his crisp usual clothing. "Master has summoned the young mistress and guest to the study. Mr. Potter and the Master both await your presence." Without waiting for a reply, the house elf vanishes swiftly.

Rowan frowns slightly betraying her thoughts. She could not help but wonder why both she and James were being summoned to her grandfather's study. She was clearly missing something, but what?

Rising to his feet, James automatically extends his arm to Rowan. "We should depart now," he said, before a slight flush across his face. He had become rather accustomed to escorting Rowan due to the Presentation Ball. It would appear his escort tendencies would not be vanishing any time soon.

Seeing James' embarrassment, Rowan accepts the offered arm. There was no sense in embarrassing James even further. It had been an automatic response and she wasn't about to mock him for it.

Tucking her hand into the fold of his arm, Rowan says, "Shall we?" James stiffly nods his head in reply before Rowan leads the way to her grandfather's study.

Trying to cover for his embarrassment, James studies the halls of Prince Manor. The manor carpets are elegant and lavish perfectly maintained even if hundreds of years old. The manor is tastefully decorated, but every decoration seemed to have been deliberately selected far more valuable than any mere family heirloom. Many of the decorations were of the finest gold and silver ornaments and more importantly many could be recognized as having been goblin forged. The impeccable detailing could not have been forged by the likes of any other master craftsman.

They arrive at the glistening varnished oak wood door. The door to the study is slightly ajar and they enter the study. James quickly studies the elegant room but is astonished by what he finds there. The walls are covered in enchanted bookcases enchanted to house thousands of books without breaking under their weight. There are neat worktables on one side of the room that seems to not have seen recent use but have not a trace of dust on them.

James deeply bows to the slender stern wizard sitting at the study, Reginald Prince. "Have a seat," Reginald firmly said.

The two of them quickly sit down but James and Rowan exchange glances. Rowan eyes the solemn expression of her grandfather that betrays nothing. Instead, she turns her attention to the aged wizard with wispy unruly hair and tired-looking hazel eyes, Fleamont Potter. Since the last time she had seen James' father, Fleamont appeared to have aged considerably. It was understandable considering the loss of his wife, Euphemia Potter.

Yet why was Fleamont Potter sitting next to her grandfather? The two of them could pretend to be civil, but they openly disliked each other. They would never deem to sit down in each other's presence, but why was that the impossible case now?

"I shall allow Fleamont to speak," Reginald interrupted Rowan's thoughts. "It is the duty of the Head of the Potter family to explain."

"Dad?" James blurted out in bewilderment looking at his father in confusion.

Fleamont betrays nothing which only arises Rowan and James's apprehension. "In ages past, an outstanding debt was forged and owed," he explained causing Rowan to let out a trembling breath.

Noting Rowan's instant pallor, James's eyes flash warily towards Reginald Prince. Yet Reginald Prince does not react merely patiently listening to Fleamont speaks. "In ages past, Ignotus Peverell owed a marriage debt to the Prince household and which debt was passed down to his granddaughter, Iolanthe Potter. She was the last of that Peverell line and in turn, the debt was passed down to her descendants upon her marriage to Hardwin Potter."

James lets out a choking sound, while Rowan grimaces in understanding. She knew exactly what had been, but that was not the most important question. Rather by whom for that would make all the difference to her.

"Under these duress of times, the Potter household seeks to align themselves with the Prince household to forge a marital alliance between our two houses," Fleamont said causing James's face to sink and Rowan's lips to thin into a line of slight relief at the knowledge of the enactor of the betrothal.

"Dad, is this some kind of twisted joke?" James exclaimed unable to understand what his father was trying to achieve with such an untasteful witticism.

"James Fleamont Potter," Fleamont calmly said, "and Rowan Prince's presence has been requested to be duly informed of the announcement of the martial alliance between our two houses that will be formally announced in the Daily Prophet with the New Year. Upon your return to Hogwarts, you will be expected to comport yourselves formally as betrothed."

Seeing his father's solemnity, James' eyes shake with intense turmoil. "Why are you doing this dad?" His voice broke off unable to continue to speak at the sudden betrayal from his father.

"It's fairly obvious," Rowan coldly said lifting her indigo midnight black colored eyes to meet those of Fleamont Potter. "With the abrupt death of your mother, James, your father Flemaont fears that he will not live to see you become an adult. Considering his age and the fact that he is the last of the Potter line and that he nor your belated mother did not have any close kin, you would be left as an orphan at the mercy of society including that of the Ministry of Magic. And so, he decided to kill two birds with one stone by repaying the owed marriage debt and in turn earning the aid of the Prince household in his quest for vengeance and permanent protection for his only son."

Fleamont Potter gaze does not quell at Rowan's words but rather remains firm and unwavering. "An astute observation, Miss Prince, and one that I will not deny," he carefully answered. "I only have one suggestion, a minor correction if you will, but I expect to be appropriately addressed by title as godfather."

Rowan clenches her jaws for a second, before frigidly saying, "That changes nothing, godfather."

James slowly lifts his head as a measure of coolness and numbness fills his gaze. That did not excuse his father's actions nor the feelings of betrayal, but he could understand better than anyone just what a father was capable of. He would have done the same and more if that had meant his son could have been safe.