The thin wire was Rowan's real advantage.
A broom's performance depended on control. Magic alone was fine, but wrapping a nearly invisible strand of metal around the handle gave him something extra. While most students relied purely on spellwork, Rowan layered precise magnetic control on top of it. Two systems. One response.
In truth, his weight was light enough that magnetism alone could lift him. It just wasn't fast enough to race a broom. Together, though, the balance was perfect.
He used the same trick on his wand. A subtle metal ring near the base ensured that if it ever left his hand, it could return instantly.
"Grip tight," Madam Hooch called. "Rise a few feet, lean forward slightly, then descend straight down. On my whistle. Three. Two. One!"
The whistle shrilled.
Students kicked off together, brooms lifting into the air. Most hovered stiffly, afraid to move. A few with experience flew smoothly, Ginny among them.
"Excellent form, Ginny," Madam Hooch called, already preparing to award points.
Then the shouting started.
Madam Hooch snapped her head toward the Slytherin side, her expression freezing in disbelief.
Rowan was flying.
Not cautiously. Not tentatively.
He inverted himself beneath the broom in a perfect star hang, snapped upright into a sharp zigzag dash, rolled around the handle as a bludger would glance off, then dove toward the ground before pulling up at the last second in a flawless feint.
Madam Hooch's voice cracked. "Merlin's beard… that's a reverse hang, a Wronski zig, a defensive roll, and a full feint. That's impossible."
Those weren't tricks taught in class. Each was a professional maneuver. Master one, and a player could walk onto a national team. Rowan executed all of them. Cleanly. On ancient school brooms notorious for instability at speed.
"Twenty points to Slytherin," Madam Hooch shouted. "Free practice for everyone else. Rowan, come with me. Now."
He landed smoothly, expression modest.
"That was your first time on a broom?" she demanded as they hurried toward the castle.
Rowan nodded, looking faintly embarrassed. "I couldn't ride where I grew up. I've only read about Quidditch."
Madam Hooch stared at him like she'd just witnessed history being rewritten.
Snape's office door flew open moments later.
"Professor Snape," Madam Hooch said breathlessly, shoving Rowan forward. "Slytherin has produced a Quidditch prodigy you will not believe. First flight. Professional-level control."
Snape stiffened. "Everything you said just now… is it true?"
"I'm not blind," Madam Hooch snapped. "Half the class saw it."
Snape turned slowly toward Rowan, his usual scowl cracking into something almost like a smile.
"You continue to exceed expectations," he said softly. "I'll arrange your placement on the Slytherin team this Saturday. If Gryffindor can bend rules, so can we."
Rowan hesitated. "Professor… I'd rather not join the team."
Both adults stared.
"Why?"
Rowan cleared his throat. "I want to focus on magic. Especially defensive magic. Professor Lockhart's lessons require… additional self-study. Quidditch training would take too much time."
Snape scoffed. "Lockhart is an idiot. But your priorities are sound."
He considered for a long moment.
"Very well," Snape said at last. "You'll join the team in name. Training will be minimal. In return, I'll personally tutor you in advanced defensive spells every weekend."
Rowan bowed his head. "Thank you, Professor."
Inside, he knew the plan had worked perfectly.