Rowan heard the approaching footsteps as well. After a brief pause, he walked to the rooftop entrance, swung the iron door shut, and placed his palm against the handle.
"Flavido."
The metal warped under the spell. A fist-sized lock formed seamlessly out of the door itself, sealing the entrance tight.
He wasn't afraid of the men below. Killing too many people created noise, and noise left trails.
"Let's go."
With the rooftop temporarily secured, Rowan turned to Leon and cast another spell.
"Wingardium Leviosa."
Leon felt his body lift as lightly as a balloon. The sensation made his breath catch. He had never experienced anything like this, and his awe toward Rowan deepened into something closer to reverence.
Rowan grabbed Leon by the shoulder and stepped off the sixth-floor rooftop.
They fell.
Then Rowan's power surged, slowing their descent just enough. They landed smoothly in a shadowed alley below.
The Levitation Charm was one of the first spells Rowan had drilled relentlessly. He couldn't fly on his own, but combined with his other abilities, it let him move people and objects with frightening flexibility. In combat, it was control. Against someone like X-24, it would be devastating. Reduce the weight, then let magnetism do the rest.
"Do you need any more help?" Rowan asked.
Leon clenched his teeth. "No. You've already done more than enough. I can handle the rest."
Chebel was dead. With Leon's reputation and influence, taking control of the family would be a matter of timing, not difficulty. Chebel's son was irrelevant. And Leon didn't want to owe more than he already did. Debts like this were never free.
"Then finish it quickly," Rowan said. "Don't look for me. I'll find you when I need you."
Leon nodded.
Rowan rose silently, his figure lifting into the night until he vanished into the dark sky.
If Leon still failed after this, then he was never fit to be a proxy in the first place.
Back at Hogwarts, Rowan's other life was lining up another opportunity.
The second week brought the first flying lesson, scheduled after Charms on Thursday afternoon.
It mattered.
Snape was one of the most dangerous wizards in the castle, second only to Dumbledore. His self-created cutting curse was lethal and notoriously difficult to heal. If Rowan wanted to secure his position in Slytherin, earning Snape's favor mattered. Helping the Slytherin Quidditch team mattered too.
Quidditch carried prestige. It built influence fast. The only downside was time. Time that could have been spent studying spells.
But flying itself was essential. Apparition had limits. Wards could block it. Sometimes, raw flight was the better answer.
As for confidence?
Rowan had prepared his own insurance.
First-year Slytherins shared their flying lesson with Gryffindor.
By three-thirty, students from both houses gathered on the lawn outside the castle. Those from wizarding families were already bragging loudly about past broom exploits, most of it exaggerated nonsense involving oceans, eagles, and near collisions with airplanes.
"Rowan," Ginny said, marching up with Colin at her side, chest puffed out. "You might beat me in class, but flying's mine."
Rowan smiled. "I've never ridden a broom. I doubt I'll score anything."
Ginny had been flying since she was six. She was genuinely talented.
Unfortunately for her, talent wasn't the only thing that mattered today.
"All right, everyone," Madam Hooch called, dragging a bundle of battered school brooms onto the grass. "Line up. I'll hand these out."
Rowan took his broom and raised an eyebrow. The thing looked ancient, twigs sticking out at odd angles. Probably an early Cleansweep model. Functional, but slow.
"Place your brooms on the ground," Madam Hooch instructed. "Confidence matters. Hesitation tells the broom not to listen."
After half an hour of instruction, practice began.
"Right hands out. Say the command."
Some brooms leapt obediently into their owners' hands. Others rolled uselessly. A few twitched and collapsed again.
Rowan extended his hand.
The broom snapped into his grip instantly.
Even he paused for half a second.
It wasn't raw talent. It was focus. His enhanced mental control smoothed the connection. The same advantage that helped him with spells worked here too.
"All right," Madam Hooch said. "Next step. On my whistle, kick off hard. Commit to it."
As she spoke, Rowan let a thread-thin wire slide from his sleeve, coiling discreetly around the broom handle.
Invisible. Weightless.
Ready.