Snape arrived in the Slytherin common room early the next morning and delivered the announcement without ceremony.
"From today onward, all students must return to their common rooms by six in the evening. No one is permitted to leave after that. All classes will be escorted by professors. Students may not use the lavatories without supervision. All Quidditch practices and matches are suspended, and no evening activities will be held."
As he led the Slytherins toward the Great Hall for breakfast, Rowan Mercer fell into step beside him.
"Professor, has the basilisk been found?"
"No," Snape replied. "The castle's plumbing has been searched thoroughly. We found shed scales, nothing more. The Chamber itself remains undiscovered."
He paused, then added quietly, "Dumbledore has been temporarily suspended by the Board of Governors. He went to the Ministry in London last night and hasn't been released yet. If the basilisk and its true master aren't found soon, Hogwarts may close for a time. If that happens and you need guidance, come to Spinner's End."
Rowan thanked him, outwardly calm. Inwardly, his thoughts were already racing. Dumbledore detained in London meant something else entirely: the Restricted Section was finally within reach.
After breakfast, Harry, Ron, and Hermione found him again.
"I've decided," Harry said. "I'm going to tell Dumbledore everything. The voices, the diary. Maybe that's how we stop this."
Rowan shook his head. "You can't. Dumbledore's been suspended. He's still at the Ministry."
Ron's face drained of color. "Then we're doomed. If he's not here, the attacks won't stop."
"Let's think," Rowan said calmly. "We have time. And first, I want to check on Hagrid. Now that we know the monster isn't an acromantula, what happened fifty years ago doesn't hold up anymore."
Hermione immediately agreed, to Harry and Ron's surprise, and the four of them went down to Hagrid's hut. It was Sunday, and there were no classes. The news they received there lifted some of the weight pressing on them.
The Ministry had officially rescinded Hagrid's ban. Dumbledore had provided proof that Myrtle's death had been caused by a basilisk, not a spider. Hagrid was cleared at last.
By the time they returned to the castle, it was nearing noon. Rowan excused himself, obtained a signed note from Lockhart, and went straight to the Restricted Section.
For the first time, he felt no eyes on him.
The Killing Curse. Fiendfyre. The Imperius Curse. The Cruciatus Curse.
Rowan worked methodically, copying everything. Memorizing them all in an afternoon was impossible, but transcription was enough. He would study later, in private.
He left the library just before curfew with an ordinary textbook under his arm, unremarkable as ever.
The days that followed grew heavier. Summer crept in, turning the lake pale blue and coaxing enormous blossoms from the greenhouses, but fear settled over the castle like a fog. With Dumbledore gone, laughter sounded wrong. Students hurried through corridors and fell silent at the smallest noise.
One Saturday, Rowan slipped into the Forbidden Forest and practiced in isolation.
It wasn't enough.
Fiendfyre resisted him. The Unforgivable Curses were worse. Power alone didn't bridge the gap. Without guidance, progress crawled.
He left the forest near midday, frustrated but thoughtful.
"I need a teacher," he murmured.
The thought came unbidden.
The diary.
Tom Riddle's soul, preserved at sixteen. Not Voldemort at his peak, but already deep into the Dark Arts. More than enough to guide a beginner.
Before, the risk had been unacceptable. Dumbledore's presence, the danger of mental influence, the uncertainty of control. But now Dumbledore was gone, and Rowan was stronger. His growing command of light magic gave him confidence that a fragment of a soul wouldn't bend him easily.
By the time he reached the castle, a new plan had taken shape.
Plans changed as strength changed. That was the rule Rowan lived by.
And this one, he suspected, would change everything.