With external matters temporarily stable, Rowan Mercer returned fully to his routine of study.
Tony Stark had Logan watching his back, and Stark himself wasn't foolish enough to be taken out easily by Obadiah. Even if the worst happened, the loss would only be financial. Money could be earned again once Rowan's strength grew. Stark was a useful connection, not a lifeline.
Right now, magic mattered more than anything else.
Stark Industries stock, no matter how badly it crashed, was still worth enough to sustain them for years. By then, Rowan would have mastered concealment charms like the Muggle-Repelling Charm and Fidelius. Security would no longer be a concern.
Everything else was secondary.
At Hogwarts Castle, Charms class was in session.
Professor Flitwick stood atop his stack of books, lecturing enthusiastically. "Remember the wrist motion we've been practicing. A swish and a flick. Swish and flick. And pronunciation is vital. Baruffio once mispronounced the incantation and ended up flat on his back with a buffalo standing on his chest."
Rowan listened, suppressing a private thought.At least you'd never run out of beef.
He understood well enough that magic didn't conjure animals from nothing. Either something nearby was transported, or it was a transfiguration effect. Magic followed rules. It wasn't limitless.
Food and water couldn't be created from nothing. Summoning spells were extensions of relocation or transformation. No cows nearby meant no cow arriving. Transfigured animals reverted once the spell ended.
Trying to exploit magic without understanding its limits was a good way to get yourself killed. Luna Lovegood's mother was proof enough.
"Now," Flitwick said cheerfully, "let's practice."
Feathers were placed on desks.
Rowan didn't bother with one.
He raised his wand and pointed at the desk beside him. "Wingardium Leviosa."
The desk lifted cleanly into the air.
Around him, first-years struggling to wobble feathers froze.
"Excellent, Rowan. Five points to Slytherin."
After class, Flitwick gathered his books and attempted a quick exit.
He failed.
Rowan was already blocking the doorway.
Flitwick sighed. "I suppose lunch will have to wait again."
"Professor," Rowan said with a polite smile, "I've been studying the Muggle-Repelling Charm and ran into a few points I don't quite understand. I was hoping you wouldn't mind sparing a little time."
Flitwick gave him a long look, equal parts pride and resignation.
An hour later, Rowan finally released him.
Satisfied, Rowan headed toward the Great Hall. Rain continued to pound the castle. It had been raining for nearly a week, with Halloween only days away.
His mood, however, was light.
Inside the hall, he spotted Harry, Ron, and Hermione sitting alone at the Gryffindor table.
"Still haven't eaten?" Rowan asked as he approached.
Harry grimaced. "We were talking about the Deathday Party."
He explained how he'd been caught by Filch after tracking mud through the corridors, and how Nearly Headless Nick had intervened. In return, Harry had agreed to attend Nick's five-hundredth Deathday Party on Halloween night.
Hermione looked intrigued. "I think it sounds fascinating. Ghosts don't have parties often. I'll go with you."
Ron pulled a face. "Why would anyone celebrate the day they died? That's just creepy."
"Harry already promised," Hermione said firmly, standing up to glare at him. "He's going."
Ron wilted instantly. "Right. Of course. I'll go too."
Harry looked relieved, then turned to Rowan. "Do you want to come with us?"
Rowan smiled and shook his head. "I'll pass. It's my first Halloween at Hogwarts. I don't want to miss the feast."
He also remembered that Halloween was when the basilisk first struck. He had no intention of being anywhere near that mess.
Before leaving, he added, "Just so you know, ghosts can't eat normal food. According to The Ghost Book, they can only get sensations from extremely strong smells. So the food at the Deathday Party is probably… well. Rotten."
Harry's face fell. "I should never have agreed."
Hermione, meanwhile, leaned forward eagerly. "The Ghost Book? Where is it?"
"Library," Rowan said. "Back section. Third shelf from the end, top row. There's only one copy."
As house-elves delivered lunch, Rowan ate and chatted with Hermione. His interest in ghosts wasn't academic curiosity alone. If his lifespan ever ran out… or if he died unexpectedly… knowing whether a ghost state could buy time might matter.
Planning ahead never hurt.