When History of Magic ended, Rowan was no longer sitting alone.
A cluster of first-years followed him out, questions firing from every direction.
"Did you really memorize that many books?""I've got a good memory," Rowan replied evenly."Are you serious about winning the House Cup for Slytherin?""Completely."
He answered without dodging, confident without sounding arrogant. By the time they reached the corridors, most of the Slytherin first-years were laughing and talking with him like he'd always been part of the group. Even the three roommates he'd beaten the night before looked at him with something close to admiration.
That was how Slytherin worked.
If you belonged to the house and proved your value, people gathered around you naturally. Rowan earning fifty points in the very first class wasn't just his achievement. It felt like a shared victory for their entire year.
Of course, that alone wasn't enough to make him a leader.
But it was a strong opening move.
By evening, the story had spread across Hogwarts. Professor Binns awarding points had been shocking enough on its own, and combined with Rowan's speech that morning, it became the talk of the castle. When Rowan read quietly in the Slytherin common room that night, older students stopped by to introduce themselves. Even Malfoy's attempts to stir trouble were cut short by prefects.
The next morning brought double Transfiguration, shared with Hufflepuff.
The moment Rowan entered the classroom, he felt eyes on him. Hufflepuff students whispered, clearly having heard the story. There was curiosity, not hostility. That suited him fine.
Just before class began, a tabby cat padded through the door.
Gasps rippled through the room as the cat leapt onto the desk and transformed smoothly into Professor McGonagall, emerald robes settling into place.
An Animagus.
Rowan's interest sharpened instantly.
The ability to assume a fixed animal form was advanced Transfiguration, limited but incredibly practical. Disguise. Surveillance. Escape. In the right situations, it was invaluable.
"Transfiguration is some of the most complex and dangerous magic you will learn at Hogwarts," McGonagall said crisply. "Anyone who treats it lightly in my classroom will leave and not return. I trust I'm clear."
With a flick of her wand, the teacher's desk became a pig, then reverted just as easily. The room buzzed with excitement.
That excitement didn't survive the theory lesson.
Only after McGonagall methodically broke down the principles did most students realize how difficult such transformations truly were.
Rowan listened intently.
Transfiguration stood apart from other spells for a reason. He'd memorized the textbook, but knowledge alone hadn't bridged the gaps. Even with outside explanations, much of it hadn't fully clicked until now.
Under McGonagall's instruction, it finally did.
Before the end of the first lesson, questions were asked.
"Slytherin gains five points," McGonagall announced after Rowan answered cleanly and added his own reasoning.
She was fair. Skill mattered more than house colors.
The second lesson was practical.
Each student received a matchstick and was instructed to turn it into a needle. The classroom filled with muttered incantations and frustrated wand motions. Most matches remained stubbornly unchanged. A few bent or dulled, but little more.
"Focus," McGonagall advised as she moved between desks. "Control the rhythm. Believe in the outcome."
She stopped at Rowan's desk.
Her eyes lit up.
"Slytherin, another five points."
On his desk lay a perfect needle. Sharp tip. Clean eye. No flaws.
The room went silent, then erupted in whispers as students stared.
Rowan only smiled.
The lesson had crystallized something important. Spells and wands were tools, but magic answered to intent. Belief shaped outcome. That was the true foundation.
And in that regard, Rowan had an edge few others possessed.
As class ended, he already knew this was only the beginning.