Injured at Hogwarts Ⅳ

Incredulity and sorrow filled Rowan's forcing herself to shut her eyes for a brief moment. Letting out a shuddering breath, she opens her eyes and meets the worried gaze of James Potter. Yes, this is the James, she knows now after the fall. At the same time, this is not the James, she met on the Hogwarts Express as an eleven-year-old.

Rowan mentally compared the two James in her mind. Yes, the person is undoubtedly James Potter. But it isn't, the same James. The James in front of her is a lot more patient, cynical, intelligent, calm, and cold. The James she knew certainly is intelligent, but far from having the rest of those attributes. Those attributes are only earned from the passing of time or suffering.

Rowan's eyes automatically flicker over James's body. James's posture even now is guarded ready to move at the slightest hint of danger. His feet are spread out like a trained Auror. His wand is in the sleeve of his wand to be flicked out, easily sliding into his waiting palm. Everything about his posture read as a veteran reminding her of Moody and the rest of them.

"James Fleamont Potter," Rowan quietly said as she rose to her feet causing James to stiffen at being called by his full name. "You certainly are, who you claim to be," causing James to visibly relax at Rowan's words.

Rowan deliberately paused, before saying a name, she had never uttered verbally out loud nor had ever been able to until now, "Harry Potter."

The body of James stiffened as sorrow streaked across his face, but at the same time, immeasurable disbelief can be seen across his face. "How-? How do you know that name?" He asked with a quiver n his voice.

Rowan's lips press into a thin line as her fingers turn nearly white from the fierce grips of her wand. A strange feeling of betrayal and anger wells up inside of her. With a wave of her wand, she cancels the spell turning to leave without another word.

"Rowan, how you know that name!?" James loudly asked reaching to grab Rowan by the elbow.

Rowan wrenches her elbow out of the way before James has a firm grasp. She knew what this James had done to Severus in another life. She also knew she was in no position to judge him as James had not done all of those things in this life. And frankly, right now she couldn't think straight. She needed to clear her head.

"Just don't," Rowan warned through pale lips, before storming away leaving a pain-stricken, shocked James behind.

Darting down the halls, Rowan numbly lost herself into she came to an abandoned corridor. She slumped down onto an alcove and leaned against the cool window. The grounds are dark as stars emerge and the moon begins to shine overhead.

Rowan has the urge to throw up, but at the same time, she can't breathe. As all the air in her body is forcibly trapped inside. She clenches her eyes and breathes through her nose letting the wave pass by. She doesn't know how much time, she sat like this. However, by the time she pulled her cheek from the coolness of the window, her cheek is frigid.

It felt as though Rowan had lost a close friend all over again, James. She wouldn't lie, she felt betrayed in more ways than one. Yet, she knew it is the present James Potter's fault, but the foolish Gryffindor, who had been her friend.

Flickers of moisture can be seen in Rowan's eyes upon opening them. The vivid words of James's words in her dream echo in her mind. Things are getting far too messy, and you're going to need the help, Rowan, -but I won't be me anymore."

"Oh, James," Rowan forlornly sighed. So stupid, really. Yet so in character.

Rowan leaned her head back against the stone wall trying to recollect her thoughts and emotions until she can think clearly again. Troubled midnight-indigo-colored eyes gaze down at the 13 inches, Elder wand in her hand that holds a tail of Thestral Hair. Her wand had never betrayed her. Yet in Hogsmeade, she felt not a speck of hesitation at killing the Death Eater. And then in the infirmary, her wand had acted in a way contrary to her intent.

One could argue that Rowan's wand read her inner intent. Yet Rowan had no intention of using that much power. It had almost seemingly acted on its own.

Despite being tempted to unseal her left eye, Rowan refrains from doing so. Rather she concentrates and tries to feel the flow of magic through her body and in her wand. Unlike the times before, the magic channels within her body had rapidly digested the death magic surge. There is no pain or soreness felt like the countless times before.

Even deeper Rowan delves towards her magical core. The power within had darkened. Specks of green and blue had been utterly devoured by the darkness. Her eyes snap wide open and she pulls up her sleeve to glance at the leaf birthmark on her wrist. The leaf birthmark on her wrist had once been bright against her skin. Yet now it looked faded and dull like an old scar.

A shaky, bitter laugh escapes from Rowan. There is always a price for everything. There are no exceptions.

At that moment, Rowan understood and proved her hypothesis. With each exchange, Rowan gained power or unlocked an ability, (a magical inheritance), but in exchange, she lost something as well. Such in this instance, her ability to commune with nature had been greatly weakened.

However, the loss not only applied to her magic but her mental well-being. Without any hesitation, Rowan had killed the Death Eater in Hogsmeade. Even now, she felt no guilt or regret for doing so. That had not been the case before and she feared that if this continued on, her sense of self would slowly be eroded away much like the first brother, Antioch Peverell had been, her ancestor. Unfortunately, history has a nasty habit of repeating itself.

Pulling herself together, Rowan ponders on her encounter with James Potter, the father of Potter of another time and place. A part of Rowan was angry at being lied to, but she wasn't actually lied to. James is still James, just not quite the James, she knew since her first-year at Hogwarts. And James couldn't be here without her friend, James, the foolish Gryffindor, who senselessly died.

Subconsciously Rowan's eyes are pulled down to the glittering golden band on her hand. The simple golden ring is embellished with the potter crest, a knight with tassels, and a small sear horse hanging overhead in the representation of an apothecary or potions lab.

In good conscience, Rowan could not ignore James Potter. They are bound together, whether they like it or not. There were things she could not speak out loud nor trust others with. Yet James is like her and knew things. She could not do this alone. She needed a partner. And James Potter is far too useful to go to waste.

Rowan's hand clenches together with determination. She would not ignore nor permit the sacrifice of her foolish friend; James be in vain. Having come to a resolution, she rises and departs from the hidden alcove back to the Great Hall.

There would be plenty of time to speak to James Potter but did not trust herself to speak at the moment. She felt far too raw at the moment to have a genuine conservation with James Potter. She might lash out at him not just verbally but physically as well. And well, one shouldn't alienate a potential ally. It is simply bad policy.