Rowan didn't return to Hogwarts after leaving the rooftop.
Instead, he swung onto his motorcycle and headed straight for Manhattan, a decision already crystallizing in his mind. The Tony Stark thread was too important to abandon.
Plans had shifted.
Originally, he'd avoided getting directly involved in Stark's disappearance. Bringing Logan along risked drawing S.H.I.E.L.D.'s attention, and relying on others was never ideal. His solution had been indirect: seize underworld money through a proxy, invest heavily in Stark Industries, and let the future take care of itself.
But one question refused to go away.
What if Tony Stark didn't escape?
In the films, Stark always made it out of that cave. This wasn't a film. This world already contained mutants like Logan and Charles Xavier. Who knew which timeline this was? If Stark died in that desert, every plan built around Stark Industries would collapse overnight.
Rowan didn't gamble on uncertainty.
The only way to guarantee profit was simple. Save Stark personally. The moment Stark was free, Leon would funnel every available dollar into Stark Industries stock. Safe. Clean. Certain.
As for S.H.I.E.L.D., Rowan no longer feared them the way he once had.
He wasn't the boy who only knew an Unlocking Charm anymore. His magnetic control had advanced far enough to deflect sniper rounds. He'd mastered every first-year spell and more besides. And with Leon's help, a legitimate identity could be fabricated easily.
One person. One quiet rescue.
If he could also secure Stark as a private partner afterward, all the better. White world and black world, both covered.
At the same time, across the city, Obadiah Stane stood beneath crystal chandeliers, addressing a room full of investors.
"Tony Stark is not easily killed," Stane declared confidently. "The military has not stopped searching. And even if the worst happens, Stark Industries retains the greatest engineering minds on Earth. Our weapons remain unmatched. Please, have faith."
The applause was polite. The doubt was not.
Later that night, riding in the back of his armored sedan toward his Long Island estate, Stane finally let the mask slip.
"Idiots," he snarled. "Do they really think Stark Industries collapses without Tony?"
The stock drop was worse than he'd anticipated. If it continued, even total control of the company wouldn't be worth nearly as much.
"And those Ten Rings bastards…" he muttered darkly.
Tony Stark's kidnapping had been his doing. The Ten Rings were supposed to eliminate Stark cleanly. Instead, they'd recognized him and demanded an obscene payoff.
A mistake they wouldn't live to enjoy.
"Any progress locating them?" Stane asked.
"Afghanistan," the driver replied. "Near the Bagram desert. We'll need another two weeks for a precise fix."
"When you have it," Stane said coldly, "wipe them out. Tony included."
"Looks like my timing's perfect," Rowan murmured.
High above the road, he lowered himself silently and landed near the asphalt. As Stane's car approached at speed, Rowan raised his wand.
"Softening Charm."
Blue light struck the pavement.
The road collapsed like wet clay.
Stane's car hit the depression and launched sideways, rolling violently before slamming to a stop against the shoulder. Metal screamed. Glass shattered.
Rowan approached calmly.
Inside the wreck, Stane and his bodyguard were injured but alive, struggling with their seatbelts.
"Good evening, Mr. Stane," Rowan said cheerfully, crouching beside the wreck.
The bodyguard reacted instantly, abandoning the seatbelt and reaching for his gun.
"Stupefy."
The red spell struck first. The bodyguard slumped unconscious.
Stane's pupils contracted.
"Whoever hired you," he blurted out, "I'll pay ten times more!"
"Tempting," Rowan replied lightly. "But I'm not here to kill you."
His gaze sharpened. His mind opened.
"Legilimency."
Magic and psychic force surged together.
A month earlier, Snape had refused to teach him the spell, insisting it was far beyond his level. Rowan had lied. Calmly. Convincingly. He claimed he could already sense thoughts when others were unguarded and needed control.
Snape tested him.
Snape relented.
Rowan's mastery was still crude, but paired with his psychic ability, it became brutal, especially against fear.
Two razor-thin blades slid from Rowan's sleeve, hovering inches from Stane's eyes.
"Tell me," Rowan said softly, "where is Tony Stark?"
The blades edged closer.
"Or we start removing things you'll miss."