Rowan folded the napkin on the table, stopped paying attention to Malfoy and his entourage, and walked straight out of the Great Hall.
For a heartbeat, the room was quiet.
Then applause broke out.
At first it ca from a few scattered corners, then it spread, growing louder and louder. So of it ca from older Slytherins. So from the other three houses. A few students were simply enjoying the chaos, happy to see Slytherin tearing at itself. Others were far more sincere, eyes bright as they watched Rowan’s retreating back.
Rowan knew the difference.
It didn’t matter.
His point had landed.
At the Gryffindor table, Ron leaned closer to Harry and muttered, "I’m not gonna lie. That was kind of cool. He’s a Slytherin, and he just declared war on the House Cup, but... I didn’t hate it."
He grinned. "Did you see Malfoy’s face? Even when we won last year, it didn’t look that bad."
Harry nodded slowly. "Rowan’s not like Malfoy. Still... we can’t lose the Cup again."
"Healthy competition," Hermione said, already back to her usual composed self. "That’s what matters. Everyone pushing each other."
Ginny and Colin both looked at Harry with expectant eyes.
Harry sighed, then smiled. "Yeah. We’ll do our best."
Ron snorted. "At this rate, those two are about to start a Harry Potter fan club."
Across the hall, Malfoy’s expression was dark enough to curdle milk.
The louder the applause had been, the harder it felt like a slap to his face.
He knew the truth. The older Slytherins were angry about last year. Angry about Quidditch. Angry about the House Cup. And because the loss happened during his year, that bla had quietly settled on him. If he’d beaten Granger academically. If he’d beaten Potter on the pitch. If he’d brought in more points, Slytherin wouldn’t have lost.
"I’ll win the Cup back," Malfoy muttered. "But not because of him. Because of ."
Pansy Parkinson folded her arms, lips tight but confident. "Don’t worry. If he can’t completely outshine everyone else, those words will bury him. He brought this on himself."
Rowan, anwhile, was already exploring the castle.
For a Slytherin without family backing, visibility mattered. Talent mattered. If he wanted influence, he couldn’t afford to stay quiet. Malfoy’s provocation had simply given him the perfect stage to draw a clear line. He had allies in other houses. He wasn’t hostile to Muggle-borns. And he wasn’t afraid to compete openly.
That distinction mattered.
The first floor held far more than just the Great Hall. There was the staff lounge, Filch’s office, the Transfiguration classroom, and several temporary classrooms used as needed. After that, Rowan climbed the marble staircase to the second floor.
Here were the History of Magic classroom, the Gryffindor Head of House’s office, and the hospital wing overseen by Madam Pomfrey. There was also a girls’ bathroom he wisely ignored.
On the third floor, Rowan paused outside the Defence Against the Dark Arts professor’s office and the abandoned bathroom haunted by Moaning Myrtle. He didn’t go in. He knew exactly what lay beyond it, and now wasn’t the ti.
The fourth floor held Charms, Defence classrooms, the Trophy Room, and the long armor-lined corridor. As Rowan passed through, two enchanted suits of armor were loudly arguing, one apparently driven to violence by the other’s singing. He watched with interest. Magic that granted awareness to objects had real potential.
The fourth floor also housed the Hogwarts library.
That was the real treasure.
Five floors above, thousands of books waited, including restricted volus unavailable anywhere else. Rowan noted the closing ti carefully.
The fifth, sixth, and seventh floors were mostly abandoned classrooms, prefect bathrooms, and unused offices. The eighth floor was far more interesting. It connected to the Ravenclaw tower, the Gryffindor tower, the Divination classroom, the Headmaster’s office... and the Room of Requirent.
Rowan didn’t enter.
He knew better than to attract attention this early. So secrets were best left untouched, at least for now.
After finishing the interior, he walked the castle grounds. The greenhouses. The herbology gardens. The flying practice area. The Quidditch pitch. By the ti he returned, it was nearly midday. He skipped Hagrid’s hut and the Forbidden Forest for now and headed back to the Great Hall for lunch.
This ti, he wasn’t invisible.
Students whispered. So admired him. So envied him. So waited eagerly for him to fail. Rowan ignored them all.
He ran into Harry and the others again. Hermione proudly showed off a beetle she’d transfigured into a delicate button. Ron looked miserable. Harry explained the Howler he’d received from Mrs. Weasley.
That afternoon, Rowan opened his History of Magic textbook and attended his first class at Hogwarts.
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