Rowan lay back on Merton's oversized bed, the sheets far softer than anything he'd slept on since arriving in this world. For the first time since stepping into Dola's life, the air didn't smell of damp stone or caustic brews. The quiet alone felt like luxury.
Risky as today had been, every part of it was worth it.
Merton's Gringotts vault.The potion shop.Shelves of ingredients he could use or sell.
For a child with nothing, it was a fortune. And for what Rowan intended to do, it was the foundation he desperately needed.
He briefly considered selling the shop and moving into the Leaky Cauldron for safety. But anonymity wasn't enough. He needed a private place to study magic—real magic—and the shop provided precisely that. Sell it now, and he'd never be able to reclaim something like it.
He stood and moved toward the tall mirror near the wardrobe, taking in this new body he'd barely had time to acknowledge.
Golden hair.Blue eyes.Sharp features that would be handsome one day, once the malnutrition faded.
The boy looked fragile, but Rowan knew better.
He bent his knees and leapt.His fingers brushed the ceiling.
Not bad.
This wasn't simple wizard physiology. His two bodies, two worlds, and two sets of gifts weren't separate. The magic within Dola's blood and the enhanced conditioning of Subject 757 were blending. Even physical strength was cross-pollinating.
If Dola once punched with fifty pounds of force, and 757 could manage two hundred, now both bodies carried the combined total. Light frame, heavy power. The agility that came with it was almost feline.
"A superchild," Rowan murmured with a faint, crooked smile.
After a quick search of the bedroom—more hopeful than realistic—he found nothing beyond ordinary magical texts. Any true dark tomes would have been locked away or smuggled out during inspections. Disappointing, but not surprising.
He washed, stretched out on the bed, and let Dola's body fall asleep.
His mind slid back across the thread connecting his two selves.Marvel.Daylight.Training.
He fell neatly into the expected routine, eating bland protein blocks while watching the cluster of young mutants gather across the room. Moments earlier, he'd seen a nurse being chewed out by the facility supervisor. Apparently she'd baked a birthday cake for the children—most of whom had never celebrated one.
If his memory of the timeline was right, this was the spark.Not long after this scolding, she would lose her fear and choose rebellion. And when she did, she would break every young mutant out of this place.
Rowan needed that uprising.
Afternoon drills dragged on.Night came.He shifted back to the wizarding world.
Morning sunlight filled the potion shop flat. He made himself something decent for breakfast—eggs, bread, even a bit of jam—and settled in with the Daily Prophet from the doorstep.
The food was simple, but worlds better than anything the lab offered.
A headline caught his eye:
"International celebrity, Order of Merlin Third Class recipient, Anti-Dark Magic League honorary member, and five-time Witch Weekly Most-Charming-Smile winner—Gilderoy Lockhart—will appear at Flourish and Blotts on August 21, 12:30 to 4:30 pm for a signing of his new autobiography Magical Me."
Rowan stared at Lockhart's smug, peacock-blue-robed photograph and sighed.
"If only I'd arrived a year earlier. I'd be starting school with Harry and the others."
He wasn't in 1991.It was 1992.Harry's second year. Rowan's first.
Being in the same year as the trio would have been a mixed bag—dangerous, chaotic, but rich with opportunity. He knew every major event ahead of them. Navigated carefully, it could all be turned to his advantage.
But he'd work with the year he had.
The world was moving.Both of them.