"If that's the arrangement, then I have no objections."
Rowan agreed without hesitation.
This was exactly what he had been aiming for from the start. Lockhart was good for one thing only, Memory Charms. Everything else related to real combat magic required Severus Snape. Weekly private instruction meant access most students would never dream of. Over time, that kind of relationship carried weight far beyond grades.
Snape paused, faintly suspicious at how smoothly Rowan accepted. It felt like he'd been maneuvered, but the result was still a net gain. A genuine prodigy in Slytherin was worth a little favoritism.
With the matter settled, Madam Hooch escorted Rowan back to the lawn.
The moment he returned, students swarmed him, peppering him with questions about where he'd been taken. Rowan didn't hide much. He explained that he'd met Head of House Snape and had been accepted into the Slytherin Quidditch team, leaving out the private tutoring.
That was enough to set off an explosion of reactions.
Slytherins were openly triumphant. Gryffindors looked deflated.
"I thought flying was where I'd finally beat him," Ginny muttered, watching Rowan surrounded by admirers.
Colin, however, was already snapping photos. "It's Rowan. He works harder than anyone. He's always the last one in the common room. And he's our friend."
Ginny smiled faintly. "At least it's him."
Rowan wasn't just slightly better. He was better in every direction, and he earned it. That made envy hard to sustain.
As the students headed toward dinner, Madam Hooch gathered the brooms with her wand, staring after Rowan.
"No," she murmured. "I need to tell Bagman about this."
Ludo Bagman, head of the Department of Magical Games and Sports, had once been a Quidditch legend himself. England's national team had struggled for years. A talent like Rowan could change that.
Age wasn't an obstacle. Viktor Krum had joined Bulgaria's team while still in school. And in Madam Hooch's judgment, Rowan's potential exceeded even Krum's.
That evening, news spread through Hogwarts. Rowan's recruitment. His aerial maneuvers. His control.
His reputation climbed another step.
Even older Slytherins spoke to him with new caution and respect.
Not everyone was pleased.
Draco Malfoy, who had only secured his own team position through his father's influence, could do nothing but stew in silence.
Saturday morning arrived quickly.
Snape summoned Rowan early, honoring their agreement.
"The Knockback Jinx," Snape began, "is considered basic. That does not make it weak. Properly used, even simple spells outperform advanced ones."
He demonstrated with clinical precision.
"Against a fire dragon, a well-cast Knockback can succeed where killing curses fail."
Under Snape's harsh but meticulous guidance, Rowan's understanding of magical combat deepened dramatically. He'd once believed raw destructive spells were supreme. Snape dismantled that notion piece by piece.
Context mattered.
Fast, agile enemies rendered killing curses useless. Creatures with high magical resistance shrugged off fiendfyre. Sometimes, a targeted eye-jinx or a physical-force spell was the only correct answer.
"The strongest spell," Snape concluded, "is the one that fits the situation."
That afternoon, Snape personally escorted Rowan to the Quidditch pitch.
Something was wrong.
The Slytherin team was doubled over with laughter. Flint was barely upright, leaning on his new broom. Malfoy was on all fours, pounding the grass.
Across the field, Gryffindor clustered around Ron Weasley, with Hermione assisting and Colin photographing enthusiastically.
Ron was vomiting shimmering slugs.
"What is this?" Snape demanded coldly.
Flint snapped to attention. "Sir. We had permission for the pitch. Gryffindor refused to yield. Weasley tried to curse Malfoy and it backfired."
"Ten points from Gryffindor," Snape said immediately. "Ron Weasley, casting spells on fellow students."
Then he noticed Harry.
"Potter," Snape added with clear disdain. "You stood beside him and did nothing. Do you think his mistake makes you look better?"
"Another ten points from Gryffindor."
Harry stared, stunned.
Rowan sighed inwardly.
He did feel a bit sorry for Harry.
But rules were rules.
And Snape was Snape.