The next few weeks fell into a new rhythm. Classes during the day, homework in the evening, Dueling Club on Tuesdays and Thursdays, and his private practice sessions late at night. He continued pushing his magical reserves to depletion each night, feeling his capacity slowly but surely expanding.
His dueling improved dramatically. Sebastian's did too. Every session, they both learned, adapted, and grew stronger.
By the fourth session, both first-years had defeated third years in their matches. By the sixth, both lasted over two minutes against upper-year opponents before being bested. By the eighth, Rowan fought a fourth-year Hufflepuff to a draw, with Hecat calling the match after five minutes of deadlock. Sebastian's match that same evening against a different fourth-year ended similarly. Another draw that had Hecat looking pleased.
They were still neck and neck, though Sebastian maintained his slight edge. In their practice duels against each other, Sebastian won more often than not. But the margin was shrinking with each session.
"You're both learning faster than anyone I've ever taught," Hecat told them after one particularly successful session where both had won multiple matches. "Natural talent combined with obsessive practice. It's a dangerous combination. In the best possible way."
Their rivalry drove them to heights neither might have reached alone.
His friendship with Iris deepened as well. They studied together most evenings, and she'd begun confiding in him more openly. One night in late October, as they worked on a particularly difficult Transfiguration essay, she looked up suddenly.
"Can I ask you something personal?"
"Of course."
"How do you do it? Stay so calm all the time, never let anything bother you. Even when those Slytherins were harassing you, you never seemed scared or angry. Is that just... who you are?"
Rowan considered how much to reveal.
"I practice mental discipline exercises. Meditation, emotional control, organizing my thoughts. It helps me stay focused and avoid letting emotions cloud my judgment."
"Could you teach me?"
He hesitated. Occlumency was supposed to be advanced magic, difficult and dangerous to learn. But the basic meditation exercises that formed its foundation were safe enough, and Iris was his friend.
"I can teach you the basics. It's called Occlumency. The art of defending your mind. The advanced techniques are beyond us right now, but the foundational exercises are just structured meditation. They'll help with focus and emotional control."
They began meeting early each morning, before breakfast, to practice together. Rowan guided her through the same exercises he'd learned from Moonstone's book. Observing thoughts without judgment, recognizing emotional patterns, building mental stillness.
Iris took to it quickly.
Within two weeks, she reported sleeping better and feeling less anxious about classes. Within a month, her grades had improved across the board as her concentration strengthened.
"This is incredible," she told him one morning after a particularly successful meditation session. "I feel like my mind is clearer and more organized. Like I can think better."
"That's the point," Rowan said. "A disciplined mind is a powerful tool."
Edmund and Celeste often joined them for meals in the Great Hall or met up in corridors between classes. Edmund was genuinely happy in Hufflepuff, excitedly describing how his housemates had welcomed him and how they all helped each other with homework.
"You and Poppy seem to be getting along well in Charms and History," Rowan observed.
"She's brilliant," Edmund said with characteristic enthusiasm. "Shy at first, but once you get her talking about magical creatures, she lights up completely. Did you know she can identify over fifty species of magical beetles just by their wing patterns? Her grandmother taught her."
"That's... impressively specific," Iris said.
"She wants to work with magical creatures after Hogwarts," Edmund continued. "Not just study them, but actually care for them and protect them. She's passionate about it in a way that's honestly inspiring."
Celeste, on the other hand, remained both amused and exasperated by Gryffindor recklessness, having prevented two major incidents by talking her housemates out of particularly dangerous pranks.
"Someone wanted to enchant the suits of armor to dance during dinner," she told them one lunch period. "I pointed out that three hundred animated metal warriors in a crowded room with students was a recipe for decapitation. They agreed it might be a bad idea."
Lawrence Goode had also become increasingly interested in Rowan's theoretical magic discussions. They spent hours debating the mechanics of spell creation, the nature of magical cores, and the possibilities of combining different magical disciplines.
"What if you could layer runic enchantments over a wand's natural properties?" Lawrence speculated one evening. "Theoretically, you could create custom wands that amplify specific types of magic."
"That's artificing," Rowan said, intrigued. "Combining wandlore, runecraft, and enchantment theory. I've read about it but never seen it practiced."
"Because it's incredibly difficult and most wizards specialize in only one discipline," Lawrence replied. "But if someone could master all three..."
He trailed off. The implications were obvious.
The idea took root in Rowan's mind. Artificing. Creating magical objects through the combination of multiple magical disciplines. It was ambitious, perhaps years beyond his current capabilities, but it aligned perfectly with his long-term goals. If he wanted to modernize the wizarding world, he'd need to create new magical devices, new ways of applying magic to solve problems.
But that was for the future. For now, he focused on the present: mastering his classes, improving his dueling, and continuing to expand his magical capacity.
As October faded into November, Hogwarts underwent its seasonal transformation. The grounds became carpeted with fallen leaves in brilliant reds and golds. The lake took on a gray, stormy quality. The castle itself seemed to hunker down against the coming winter, its stones radiating stored warmth against the increasingly cold air.
The first Hogsmeade weekend was announced for mid-November, but only third years and above were permitted to go. Rowan didn't mind. He had no interest in the village yet, and the quiet castle would give him more time to practice.
He did, however, make progress on another front.
During a particularly heavy rainstorm that kept students indoors, Rowan explored a section of the castle he'd previously overlooked. The sixth floor, west wing. Here, he discovered an entire corridor of abandoned classrooms, most of them locked and forgotten.
One door, however, was unlocked.
The room beyond was dusty and clearly unused, but spacious and well-lit by tall windows. Old desks were stacked in corners, and empty shelves lined the walls.
It was perfect.
Rowan began using this classroom for his most intensive practice sessions. The room was far enough from the dormitories that no one would hear him casting spells, and isolated enough that discovery was unlikely. He spent hours here, working through spell after spell, pushing himself to the edge of magical exhaustion and then recovering.
His magical capacity continued to grow. He could now cast perhaps thirty to forty spells before reaching depletion. Double what he'd been capable of when he first arrived at Hogwarts. His spells themselves were also becoming more powerful and precise, his control improving with each practice session.
He also began experimenting with spell modification. Slightly altering wand movements or pronunciation to see how it affected the results. It was dangerous; Waffling's book had warned extensively about the risks of improper spellcasting. But Rowan was careful, methodical, and always ready to shield if something went wrong.
One modification proved particularly useful: he discovered that adding a counterclockwise twist at the end of certain spells' standard motions could alter their trajectory. The modified Knockback Jinx, for instance, curved slightly through the air instead of traveling in a straight line. Making it harder to dodge or predict.
Small discoveries like this accumulated over weeks of practice, giving Rowan a growing repertoire of techniques that weren't in any textbook.
By late November, as winter truly set in and the first snow began to fall, Rowan felt he'd made substantial progress.
His grades were excellent. Top of his year in most subjects. His dueling skills had improved to the point where he could hold his own against fourth years and occasionally win. His magical capacity had roughly doubled. His Occlumency had progressed to the point where he could maintain perfect emotional control even under stress.
And perhaps most importantly, he'd established his reputation. Students knew him as the Muggleborn first year who'd fought off older Slytherins, who'd been invited to Dueling Club despite his age, and who earned top marks in nearly every class.
Some respected him. Some resented him. But everyone recognized that he was exceptional.
As he sat in the Ravenclaw common room one snowy December evening, working on a Charms essay while Iris practiced her Occlumency meditation beside him, Rowan allowed himself a moment of satisfaction.
He'd survived his first term at Hogwarts and established himself as a formidable student. And while Sebastian still held an edge in their dueling rivalry, that gap was closing.
The selection duel was months away. Plenty of time to even the score.