Transtemporal Travel Ⅳ
Seeing no trace of lies or change in his descendant's expression, a smug smile twitched at the end of Salazar's lips. Vain, he might be, but always within good measure. After all, he was the greatest of the Hogwarts founders. "It is good that the known magical world knows and kneels at the superiority of power and knowledge that our house possesses," he deliberately mused out loud.
Rowan felt the lingering glance, but she had no reason to react negatively at the comment of her ancestor. "Might I inquire the location of any hidden away treasure as to retrieve for my own personal gain?" Rowan carefully requested as she could always use extra money. Funding a war wasn't easy, want not, waste not! Maybe that's not how the phrase went or was intended, but it did for Rowan.
"It should more than suffice that which I have already granted you," Salazar snorted with derision. "Still, I suppose I can be merciful and allow for some leeway. I shall hideaway a tidbit of knowledge within the confines of my reading room. I would recommend searching closely next to the mantel place."
Rowan politely nodded her head in gratitude, she certainly did not trust anything that her ancestor might gift her now. There was no telling if this truly was a blessing or a curse. And knowing him, if tonight didn't end well, he was the type to get even, even if it took a thousand years. There was a very good reason by the Chamber of Secrets existed in the first place!
A smirk twitches at the edge of Salazar Slytherin's face before his face grows somber. "Tell me," he slowly inquired, "how many of my descendants still remain?" Salazar quietly inquired.
"Not all known descendants are from the marriage bed," Rowan drily replied earning a smug smile from Salazar Slytherin. "Though I will admit the years have not been completely unkind. Of known direct descendants, there remain six in the family along with a distant cousin. A total of 7 of us in all." She had tactfully included Sir Knight Prince even if he was a ghost. Because a ghost is still a living existence even if he technically is not among the living. As well as Tom Marvolo Riddle, because well, he, unfortunately, was still very much a distant relative.
"A magical number," Salazar acknowledged with no small measure of pride. His eyes glimmer pensively though in thought as if deciding to take one or two mistresses to ensure that children out of wedlock are born. Wild seedlings they might be, but he must ensure his line continues! A potion would not be required for he was still a virile man!
Shifting on her feet, the sand noisily crunches underfoot. Seeing the attention of her ancestor return, Rowan asks, "Beyond the locket, is there any other artifact that was forged by thee ancestor that I need concern myself with?"
"That is more of Helga's past time, not mine. It was on a mere whim, really, that I created the locket," Salazar frankly acknowledged, before his eyes linger avariciously upon the golden spectacles of his descendant.
"Now, you descendant, I sense great power in that artifact of yours," Salazar avidly said. "The magic the artifact emits smells and tastes of goblin forgery, whatever is it for? The goblins are fickle creatures not known for their intelligence, but rather for their savagery. Brutish creatures they very much are, but they are master craftsmen."
It would figure that Salazar Slytherin would ignore the death magic emitted from Rowan, but instead would focus and be interested in the goblin forged artifact. Apparently, Death magic was no big deal to a powerful wizard, who had killed more than once. "It contains an enchantment to preserve the sight in my left eye," which was all true minus a few details.
"The work for a lesser existence," Salazar sneered with barely veiled contempt for the goblin tribes. His opinion of his descendant had dropped several degrees at the candid reply.
Deciding to not engage in a discussion of speciesism and bigotry, Rowan instead asks, "Are there any owed blood debts to the family that I might take possession of?"
"Ambitious or even more so than I," Salazar muttered in genuine praise for it was exactly that which he would have done. "I suppose I can afford a measure of generosity and deem to leave a reply within the place that has already been spoken of."
Salazar paused as his eyes narrowed upon the dwindling sand. "I have grown weary of our talk," he said raising glittering dark eyes full of insatiable hunger. "Tell me, my descendant, share with me of a power that might bring my enemies to their knees."
Rowan doesn't flinch although her face does pale a shade or two. She had known that sooner or later Salazar Slytherin's true nature would emerge. She had done all that she could to stave off the situation with seemingly long winded questions. If she refused to answer, there was no telling what Salazar Slytherin might do considering he created the time temporal in the first place. It would not be unreasonable to conclude that he could alter the rune markings and either force her to remain in the past or worse. Nor the fact that she was bound by the magical oath that she had sworn, she could already feel the pressure of the oath forcing her to comply.
Rowan's mind races through spells that she knows of until she falls upon the worst of the unforgivable curses, the Killing Curse. This unforgivable curse would be outlawed by 1717, but not after prolonged use. The curse had certainly been long in existence long prior to that point, but she couldn't be certain exactly just how many hundreds of years before. There was a small, minuscule chance it was already in existence in the founders, but she had the inkling that if it was, the spell was known to only a select few.
Most importantly, Salazar Slytherin had never been known for being the creator of the Killing Curse, but that did not mean he had not used it either or it was just as likely as possible that the curse did not exist in his time. However, she had the feeling that was not the case. The magical oath pressed upon her magical core painfully urging her to reply and causing her to painfully grimace.
"So, you won't speak?" Salazar Slytherin icily said with no warmth, or any polite semblance left behind. "The magical oath will force you hand," he matter-of-factly stated noticing the increasing pained distress on his descendant's face.
Yet the sand continued to dwindle, but Rowan did not speak despite the painful intense feeling of being suffocated from the inside out. It was a gamble, but if she could hold off until the sands ran out, she would be fine. A pained groan escapes from her mouth as if feeling the magical channels inside of her starting to bend.
The arrogant expression upon Salazar Slytherin's face faded away replaced by vexation and just a hint of uncertainty. The sand was running out, he could not take any further chances. His long robes rustle against the slivers of sand that remained.
"There are other ways to make you speak, descendant," Salazar frostily threatened, "even with this temporal sphere in place." The sand crunches under his feet until he halts at the edge of the sphere of rune carvings. "An outer rune carving might be accidentally damaged by a slip of the hand making it impossible to return."
Rowan reflexively tightens her grip on her wand, but her hands feel, cold and clammy. She tries to breathe and winces trying to rationally think through the fog of pain. She knew that she did not have anything nothing to defend herself with. She saw what happened to the stone Salazar Slytherin tossed inside the rune marking sphere that disintegrated for the time contained within the bubble is a thousand years had passed in the future.
There was little doubt in her mind that the moment Rowan steps out of the temporary temporal sphere she will simply cease to exist. She is nowhere close to being born and the first Prince ancestor is a mere child at this point. Neither is there any guarantee that any magic that she casts within the sphere will not cease to exist the moment it exists and is outside of the temporal sphere.
"So be it," Salazar Slytherin petulantly hissed and without hesitation raised his wand up in the air to destroy his descendant.
A loud rumbling sound startles both Salazar Slytherin and Rowan pulling their attention away from each other. The hanging massive crystals overhead begin to glow a fierce sapphire-colored color. Blue and white dust began to fall from the air covering the room. Rowan covers her face as the dust covers her robes in thick dust and she is not the only as does Salazar Slytherin. The blue dust begins to whirl impossibly fast around them whipping their clothes until just as abruptly the dust ceases to blow.