After Transfiguration, Rowan didn't head straight to lunch. Instead, he followed Professor McGonagall down the corridor and spent a full hour peppering her with questions about advanced applications of Transfiguration. Only when she was clearly due elsewhere did he finally excuse himself, thoroughly satisfied.
Professors taught multiple year groups. If you didn't seize the gaps between classes, those chances vanished.
That afternoon brought Defense Against the Dark Arts.
Gilderoy Lockhart swept into the classroom in lavender robes, radiant smile firmly in place, and struck a pose behind the lectern.
"I am Gilderoy Lockhart," he announced, beaming. "Order of Merlin, Third Class. Honorary Member of the Dark Force Defence League. Five-time winner of Witch Weekly's Most Charming Smile Award. But I don't like to dwell on that. I didn't banish the Bandon Banshee with my smile alone."
The boys exchanged looks. The girls applauded enthusiastically.
Rowan watched with detached amusement. Lockhart's reputation was built on theft and deception, but Rowan had to admit the man understood presentation. Good looks, confidence bordering on shamelessness, and an utter lack of embarrassment went a long way in the wizarding world.
And more importantly, Lockhart was useful.
In Rowan's mind, Lockhart had three undeniable advantages.
First, he was generous with points. Impress him, flatter him, and House points flowed freely.Second, he had authority. Only professors could authorize access to the Restricted Section of the library. Lockhart's signature was a golden key.Third, and most important, his mastery of the Memory Charm was genuine. Everything else aside, Lockhart's Obliviate was world-class. If Rowan could learn it properly, it would be invaluable beyond Hogwarts.
So Rowan had no intention of wasting this lesson.
"I see you've all purchased my complete set of works," Lockhart said, producing a stack of papers. "Excellent. Today, we'll begin with a short quiz. Nothing to worry about. Just a little test to see how carefully you've read."
Papers were handed out.
"You have thirty minutes. Begin."
Rowan glanced at the questions. They were almost entirely about Lockhart himself. Without hesitation, he coordinated with his other self to cross-check details, though he already knew most of the answers.
Since becoming professor, Lockhart had replaced all Defense Against the Dark Arts textbooks from first through seventh year with his own seven-volume autobiography. Rowan had bought them all. He'd also acquired the previous first-year text, Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Defense.
Lockhart's books were mostly self-praise, but buried within were genuine accounts of dangerous encounters. Real stories, stolen from real witches and wizards, stripped clean with Memory Charms.
Half an hour later, Lockhart collected the papers and began marking them aloud.
Most students had answered poorly. Even his most devoted admirers barely managed half the questions. Then Lockhart reached Rowan's paper.
"Oh?" Lockhart said, delighted. "Rowan Mercer. Yes, I know you. The Slytherin first-year who declared he'd reclaim the House Cup. Very impressive. You know my favorite color, my ideal birthday gift, and my… admirable life goals. You answered everything correctly."
He looked up, glowing.
"Twenty points. Slytherin gains twenty points!"
The classroom erupted.
Lockhart's grin never faltered. In his other classes, only one student, a Gryffindor girl named Hermione Granger, had ever come close to a full score. Rowan answering perfectly, and being already famous, sent his ego soaring.
"Professor," Rowan said calmly, raising his hand, "your books contain many experiences worth studying in depth. I reread them several times. They're hard to forget."
Lockhart laughed and strode over. "Excellent attitude. With talent almost on par with my own, I'm sure you'll achieve great success someday. I have high hopes for you."
"If I do," Rowan replied with a faint, knowing smile, "it will be thanks to your guidance. I never forget those who help me."
Lockhart's eyes gleamed. He liked that very much.
"Now," he said briskly, "let's begin reading Gadding with Ghouls. I'll be asking questions at random. Correct answers earn points."
By the end of class, Rowan had earned another ten points for Slytherin.
In just two days, he had personally contributed ninety points. Slytherin was already pulling ahead.
Even after the bell rang, Rowan didn't let Lockhart escape.
"Professor," he said politely, "I have a few questions about magic I'd love to ask."
"Of course," Lockhart said, winking. "For someone so much like myself, I can spare a little of my valuable time."
Lockhart had noticed it already. Rowan wanted recognition. Just like him. The difference was that Rowan's talent was real.
And real talent was an asset worth cultivating.
"I'm particularly interested in the Memory Charm," Rowan said, getting straight to the point.
Lockhart hesitated for a fraction of a second, then puffed out his chest. "Obliviate? Hardly my specialty. But I suppose I'm still slightly better than those fellows in the Ministry's Memory Modification Squad."
That department, part of the Office of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes, employed some of the finest Obliviate specialists alive.
Which made Lockhart's claim revealing in its own way.