By the end of the first week, invisibility was no longer optimal.
He had reached the limit where blending in slowed growth. Teachers had classified him as reliable. Students had adjusted to the quieter version of Draco. The mask held, but it had done its job.
Now he needed controlled visibility.
Not attention.
Position.
He woke with the decision already formed.
Calibration ran in the background. Memory stable. Training gains retained. No cognitive drift. He sat up and examined the rule again.
Visible enough to access opportunity.Invisible enough to avoid pressure.
That was the line.
He dressed and entered the corridor with slightly longer strides. A minor shift. Confidence expressed physically changed how space reacted. Students adjusted their paths half a second earlier. The ecosystem responded to posture faster than to words.
Breakfast provided the first test.
A discussion broke out about an upcoming practical exam. Most students complained about difficulty. He entered the conversation deliberately.
"It's not hard," he said calmly. "It's repetitive."
They turned toward him.
He continued without raising his voice.
"The spell only fails when you rush the alignment. Slow it down and it stabilizes."
Silence followed.
Not disagreement.
Processing.
A boy tried the idea in the air with his fingers. Recognition crossed his face.
"That… makes sense."
The narrative shifted instantly. He had not bragged. He had provided a method. Methods spread faster than confidence.
A few students asked him to show them later.
He nodded once.
Agreement without enthusiasm.
Offer accepted. Authority increased.
Across the hall, Hermione looked up briefly during the exchange. Not impressed. Not dismissive. Measuring. Her gaze returned to her book. The moment passed.
He stored it anyway.
Observation acknowledged.
Charms class became demonstration.
The professor asked for volunteers to show the spell. Hands rose cautiously. He waited until the third attempt failed. Then he raised his own.
Timing mattered.
He performed the movement slowly. No flourish. Every step visible. The feather rose with clean stability. No tremor.
He did not look at the class.
He looked at the professor.
Instructional alignment.
The professor smiled slightly.
"Notice the control," he said to the room. "Speed is irrelevant without precision."
The credit transferred to the teacher.
Perfect.
He returned to his seat without expression. Students glanced at him differently now. Not envy. Orientation. He had moved from peer to reference point.
Exactly where he wanted to be.
Between classes, two students approached for help. He corrected their grip and timing in under a minute. No lecture. No superiority. Just adjustment.
They left grateful.
Gratitude built influence quietly.
Potions reinforced the shift. Snape assigned partner work. Students scrambled for alliances that maximized survival. A boy slid into the seat beside him without asking.
Trust expressed through assumption.
They worked in silence. His partner followed instructions precisely. The potion stabilized early. They finished ahead of the room.
Snape's gaze cut across the class and landed on their cauldron.
"Correct," he said flatly.
One word.
Recognition broadcast to the room.
His partner exhaled in relief and looked at him with open respect.
Classification complete.
He was safe to align with.
That label would spread faster than praise.
The library session expanded. Three students joined him at a table. They asked questions in low voices. He answered efficiently. Demonstrated once. Made them repeat the motion until it held.
Teaching clarified his own understanding. Every correction exposed a hidden assumption in his method. He refined in real time.
Hermione moved to the same table without asking. She did not join the group. She read. But her presence altered the atmosphere. The others straightened unconsciously. Standards rose without instruction.
He approved.
Competence attracted gravity.
The session ended with visible improvement from all three students. They thanked him and left with new posture. Shoulders higher. Steps faster.
He had given them leverage.
They would remember the source.
Evening corridors buzzed with rumor. His name surfaced in fragments as he passed. Not loud. Not hostile.
Curious.
He had crossed the threshold.
No longer background.
Not yet target.
The safest place for growth.
He stood again at the high window overlooking the grounds. The sky burned orange behind the trees. Students shouted in the distance. Life continued with careless volume.
Inside him, the hunger settled into satisfaction.
Not pride.
Confirmation.
The method worked.
Controlled visibility created opportunity without threat. Influence accumulated without resistance. The system accepted his ascent because it looked natural.
He replayed the week in full.
Day one: awe.Day two: mapping.Day three: leverage.Day four: friction control.Day five: pattern recognition.Day six: visibility.
Progress measured.
He added a new rule beneath the others.
Visibility must always serve growth.
Never ego.
He turned from the window and walked back toward the dormitory. Students greeted him more often now. Small nods. Quick questions. Orientation behavior locking into place.
He responded just enough.
Not more.
The castle adjusted again.
A new equilibrium forming around his presence.
And this time, it held.