"That Bludger's been tampered with," one of the Weasley twins snapped as the Gryffindor team clustered protectively around Harry on the ground. "It's been locked onto him the entire match. It's not even pretending to target anyone else. Malfoy must've messed with it so he could grab the Snitch!"
Angelina Johnson turned to Oliver Wood, urgency in her eyes. "Oliver, we can't let Harry face that thing alone. Call for a stoppage. Ask for an investigation."
Wood hesitated.
Harry, however, shouted back immediately. "If we stop now, we're disqualified! We're already down by a hundred. The only way we win is if I catch the Snitch. Oliver, get everyone away from me. I can't chase it if you're all hovering around!"
"You won't be disqualified if both teams request a review."
The calm voice drifted down from above.
Rowan Mercer descended and hovered nearby, broom steady.
After noticing the situation, the Slytherin team had been more than happy to watch from a distance. It was Rowan who convinced Flint to agree to a joint investigation. His reasoning was simple. At this point, Slytherin was almost guaranteed to win. If they won because Harry was injured by a rogue Bludger, the victory would be tainted. People would assume foul play.
"Rowan," Wood said, genuinely moved, "you're a good bloke."
Madam Hooch arrived moments later.
With both teams requesting a review, the match was halted. Snape and McGonagall examined the Bludger together. The conclusion was obvious. It had been subjected to a powerful controlling enchantment.
More importantly, it wasn't the kind of magic a student could cast.
That ruled out Slytherin.
Incidents like this were rare in Hogwarts history. To allow the match to continue, the professors announced that the Bludger itself had malfunctioned and replaced it. Dumbledore was asked to personally oversee the remainder of the game.
With the headmaster watching, the hidden culprit wisely backed off.
The match resumed in full force.
By four in the afternoon, after nearly three hours in the air, Harry finally outflew Malfoy and seized the Golden Snitch, earning Gryffindor one hundred and fifty points and ending the match.
Harry grinned, then glanced at the scoreboard.
And froze.
Slytherin: 400Gryffindor: 200
"Harry Potter has caught the Snitch and earned Gryffindor one hundred and fifty points," Lee Jordan announced reluctantly, "but the winners are Slytherin. Thanks to Rowan Mercer, who scored thirty goals all by himself."
As a Gryffindor, Lee would've loved a different outcome. Unfortunately, Rowan had been unstoppable.
The match ended with Rowan surrounded by cheering Slytherins as they made their way back to the castle. Everyone knew the truth. Without Rowan, Slytherin would've lost the moment Harry caught the Snitch.
After the celebrations, Rowan quietly slipped away, book in hand, and headed toward the Black Lake.
Winning Quidditch matches was useful. It built reputation. It made moving through the school easier. It laid groundwork for the future.
But it didn't make him strong.
Fame without power was just noise. Men like Lockhart chased applause and died the moment real danger appeared. True strength belonged to people like Dumbledore, Grindelwald, and Voldemort.
That was the level Rowan aimed for.
He had barely settled into his reading when he was interrupted by a tall, broad-shouldered wizard with short blond hair and bright, eager eyes.
"Hello there, Rowan!"
"Hello, Mr. Ba—" Rowan caught himself and corrected smoothly. "Sir, you are?"
"Ludo Bagman," the man said cheerfully. "Head of the Department of Magical Games and Sports."
Rowan recognized the name instantly. The gambler. The one who'd ruined himself with debts and dragged the Weasley twins down with him.
"What can I do for you, Director?" Rowan asked politely.
"Madam Hooch recommended you," Bagman said, eyes shining. "And after watching that match, I want to invite you to join the England national Quidditch team."
Bagman was certain no young wizard could refuse an offer like that.
Rowan answered immediately. "No, thank you. I'm not interested."
Bagman stared, stunned.
Joining the national team would skyrocket Rowan's fame, but it would devour his time. Training every weekend. Traveling constantly. Endless matches.
A terrible trade.
Quidditch was a talent. Magic was his purpose.
"But you were holding back!" Bagman blurted. "I could see it. You eased off to spare Gryffindor's pride. Are you worried Dumbledore won't approve? I'll speak to him personally. He'll make time for you."
Rowan shook his head. "It's not that. I enjoy Quidditch, but magic is what I care about. I'm only in my first year. This is the most important stage of learning."
Seeing Bagman's growing desperation, Rowan paused, then added, "That said, I am willing to help our national team. I'll agree to join in principle. But I won't train or compete until after my fourth year."
Bagman blinked.
Then slowly smiled.