Rowan waited five full minutes before pushing open the scorched door of the shed. The air inside was thick with burned herbs and lingering magic. Merton lay crumpled against the far wall, body twisted at an angle no living person could maintain.
Rowan checked for breath. Nothing.
Only then did he allow himself to exhale.A wizard who'd survived this long in Knockturn Alley would have been deadly in a straight fight. One Shield Charm, one Stunner, and Rowan would have been finished. The only reason this worked was because the old man never imagined the frightened boy he'd raised could turn on him.
Keeping up the act, Rowan bolted from the shop and sprinted toward Diagon Alley. Yelling in Knockturn Alley would only attract scavengers. Yelling in Diagon Alley would attract Aurors.
"Help! Someone, please—Mr. Merton's potion exploded! He's hurt—he might be dying!"
His voice cracked, frantic and breathless. To anyone watching, he looked like a boy whose guardian had just been blown apart.
Two patrolling Aurors reacted immediately.
"Show us," one barked.
Diagon Alley and Knockturn Alley never went unpatrolled. Ministry couldn't risk a scandal, especially with Hogwarts shopping season underway.
Inside the ruined shop, after containment spells had been cast and the area secured, a young witch with bubblegum-pink hair finished her inspection.
"No secondary wand signature, sir. Nothing stolen. All signs indicate an accidental magical reaction during potion-brewing," she said crisply.
The man standing beside her nodded."Well reasoned, Tonks. Moody's been drilling you hard, I see. Keep at it. Two more years and you'll be full Auror."
Tonks flushed slightly. "He's strict, but learning from him is worth it."
Rowan, pretending to cower in the corner, listened closely. These weren't nameless functionaries.Rufus Scrimgeour, head of the Auror Office.Nymphadora Tonks, future Metamorphmagus legend.
The names drifted through his memory—one destined to stand against Voldemort and die for it; the other to marry Remus Lupin and fight through a war she didn't survive. In this moment, though, both were young, capable, and—most importantly—reliable.
Scrimgeour's eyes flicked to Rowan. He studied the boy's bruises, his thin arms, the way he flinched whenever someone moved too fast.
"Poor child," Tonks murmured. "He finally gets adopted, and now this."
Scrimgeour shook his head. "You assume Merton was any kind of blessing. Look at him. I'd wager the man's death is the first good fortune this boy's had."
He wasn't wrong.
Scrimgeour crouched to Rowan's height. "Your name is Dola, yes? Listen carefully. Merton left no other family. By wizarding law, his property and vault contents pass to you."
Rowan bowed his head just enough to mimic grief. Scrimgeour continued:
"You'll also be required to attend Hogwarts. Without a guardian capable of teaching you magic safely, the Ministry won't allow you to remain untrained."
Both conditions matched Rowan's expectations, so he nodded.
There was one more thing he needed.
"Sir," Rowan said quietly, "I don't want to keep the name Dola. Could I… change it?"
Scrimgeour didn't hesitate. "Of course. Tonks will take you to handle the forms tomorrow. Choose whatever name you feel is right."
A hand landed gently on Rowan's head.Tonks smiled, warm and genuine. "We'll take care of it, alright?"
Rowan dipped his head in thanks. Building rapport with Aurors could only help him later. Knockturn Alley was a nest of opportunists, and the moment word spread that a child had inherited a shop and vault, predators would start sniffing around.
Tonks seemed almost relieved to see him behaving politely.
"What a considerate kid," she murmured, offering him a reassuring squeeze of the shoulder.
It wasn't kindness Rowan was performing—it was survival.