Most of them accepted Rowan's explanation without question. In their minds, dark wizards were unhinged by nature. If someone from Knockturn Alley behaved irrationally, that was practically expected.
Only Hermione looked at him differently.
She had seen him in Paris. Seen what he could really do.
"Rowan," Ginny asked as they walked away from Knockturn Alley, eyes shining, "is it true you received a bravery medal from the French Ministry?"
The others immediately leaned in. They had all read the article in the Daily Prophet, and Hermione had mentioned pieces of it that morning. An internationally wanted dark wizard, defeated. It sounded unreal.
"Mostly luck," Rowan said lightly. "The Aurors did the real work. I just helped where I could."
Harry frowned. "Hermione said you took down several dark wizards by yourself. And you saved her."
That earned him a look from Hermione, but she didn't deny it.
Pressed for details, Rowan gave a simplified version. Timing. Spell choice. Positioning. When to dodge, when to counter. Nothing flashy, just fundamentals.
It left them stunned.
Up until now, their idea of dueling was trading spells until someone fell over. Rowan spoke about combat like a craft.
By the time they reached Diagon Alley, the darkness of Knockturn Alley felt unreal, like a bad dream washed away by sunlight and noise.
"Books first," Hermione declared.
They headed straight to Flourish and Blotts.
Inside, several shelves were missing. In their place stood a massive iron cage packed with violently thrashing books that snapped and clawed at one another like living things.
Ron checked the list. "That's The Monster Book of Monsters. Care of Magical Creatures."
Rowan didn't technically need it this year, but he picked one up anyway. Magical creatures fascinated him. Their innate abilities often held clues to deeper magical principles. Much of wizarding innovation had come from studying them.
If he could understand how certain creatures ignored spatial constraints, for example, it would change how he approached movement magic entirely.
The shop assistant went pale when they placed their order.
"Four?" he croaked. "Four of them?"
He pulled on thick gloves, muttering furiously as he grabbed a chewed-up club. "Never again. Never stocking these again. First the invisible books, now this—absolute madness—"
The moment he reached into the cage, a book clamped onto him and dragged him forward. Another tore at his glove. He yelped and stumbled.
"I should burn you all," he yelled, half-panicked.
Rowan sighed and stepped forward. "I'll do it."
"Careful!" the man shouted, already on the floor. "They're vicious!"
Rowan reached in.
One book vanished from the cage in a blur, tied shut before it could snap. Then another. Then a third. Smooth. Efficient. Almost bored.
The onlookers stared.
Within seconds, four books lay neatly bound.
"Eight percent off," the shopkeeper blurted. "Please. I beg you."
Rowan nodded. "Sure."
He didn't even bother reaching in the next time. He stepped into the cage.
The books surged toward him in a wave.
Rowan's hands blurred, motion stacking on motion. In under half a minute, more than a hundred books were bound and piled neatly to the side.
Silence followed.
Ron exhaled. "Why is he always like this?"
Harry watched Rowan with quiet envy. "I wish I were that good."
Hermione snorted. "He works for it. If you spent half the time studying that you spend messing around, you wouldn't need to copy my homework."
She meant it.
She had seen Rowan in Paris. No breaks. No excuses. Even on holiday, every spare moment went into study or practice.
Talent wasn't what made him frightening.
It was talent paired with effort that never stopped.
And that, Hermione knew, was something almost no one could catch up to.