Maca never imagined that a single offhand comment from him could alter the course of history. It was something he should have foreseen—yet couldn't possibly predict.
Because of him, Neville didn't get injured; Malfoy never picked up that Remembrall; and Harry, not racing against Malfoy on a broom to retrieve it, wasn't discovered by Professor McGonagall for his Seeker talent.
To everyone else, everything seemed perfectly normal. Even Harry, directly involved, didn't feel the slightest sense of anything being amiss.
But Maca knew better. He wasn't sure whether this turn of events was a blessing or a curse. What he did know, however, was that this world he inhabited was undeniably real—tangible and unchanging. He'd understood that much back in Plymouth. Yet only just now did he truly grasp what that reality meant.
Should he preserve the world he remembered? Or abandon the past and instead experience everything anew with his own hands and senses?
At that thought, Maca shook his head.
Perhaps, from the very moment he arrived in this world, he shouldn't have tried to think too deeply about such troubling questions. After all, the flap of a butterfly's wing is always unconscious—never knowing what ripple it may cause. And rather than stressing over the unpredictable, perhaps it was better to calmly face the unknown future.
He never considered himself exceptional. Maybe he'd accomplish a few small things in life—but that would be it.
"Enjoying life is what really matters," Maca sighed.
"That sounds like something an old grandpa would say," Hagrid chuckled as he walked over from the Gryffindor stands.
"Yeah! Maca always talks like an old man," Ron added with a laugh.
"That's called wisdom! You just don't get it," Hermione said firmly. Ever since Maca had saved her from the troll, she'd held him in very high regard.
"'That's called wisdom! You just don't get it!'" Ron mimicked Hermione's tone as he turned to Harry, who burst out laughing.
"Hmph!"
Hermione turned away in embarrassment and irritation. But Maca was right beside her, and when she turned her head, their eyes met.
"…"
Hermione froze for a second, then quickly looked away again, a blush creeping up her cheeks.
After the troll incident, the tension between her and the boys had eased—likely because Harry and Ron were the first to arrive at the bathroom. Maca wasn't sure about the details, but seeing the three Gryffindors getting along was a pleasant outcome nonetheless.
Soon after, they returned with Hagrid to his hut at the edge of the Forbidden Forest, where he served them all strong tea. Maca had tagged along this time to continue practicing potion brewing—he'd visited Hagrid's place several times before.
"It's Snape," Ron explained to the group. "Harry ran into him in Filch's office. One of his legs was seriously injured."
"Snape got hurt?" Hagrid asked curiously. "What was he up to?"
Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Maca exchanged uncertain glances, unsure how to explain it. Eventually, Harry decided to just come clean.
"I saw him sneaking around," Harry said. "The night before Halloween, he tried to get past that three-headed dog. It bit him! We think he was trying to steal whatever the dog is guarding."
At that, Hagrid slammed the teapot down hard.
"How do you know about Fluffy?" he asked sternly.
"Fluffy?" Harry repeated. "You mean that three-headed dog?"
"Yeah! He's mine—bought him off a Greek chap I met last year in a pub. Lent him to Dumbledore to guard—"
"What?" Harry interrupted eagerly.
"Enough! No more questions," Hagrid snapped. "It's top secret, understand?"
"But Snape tried to steal—"
"Nonsense!" Hagrid cut in. "Snape's a Hogwarts professor. He'd never do anything like that."
"Then why was he—yeah, Fluffy—why was he bitten?" Harry pressed. "I heard him say it himself!"
"I told you, you're wrong!" Hagrid snapped, getting visibly agitated. "Listen to me—all of you! You're meddling in things that don't concern you. It's dangerous. Forget about the dog, and forget what it's guarding. That's between Professor Dumbledore and Nicolas Flamel—"
"Aha!" Harry exclaimed. "So, it does involve someone named Nicolas Flamel!"
Maca could only look at Hagrid with a helpless expression. Though he'd only been involved in one part of this whole situation, he could already piece most of it together.
Hagrid now stood fuming—mostly angry at himself.
Clearly, now wasn't the time to carry out his potion-making plans. Best to cancel for the day; Maca didn't think it wise to brew potions while Hagrid was in this mood.
---
Time passed, and though Hogwarts hadn't yet seen snow, the weather had grown bitterly cold.
One thing worth mentioning: through tireless effort, Maca had finally succeeded in creating a new invisibility potion. He'd gone through countless practical tests and revised the formula repeatedly—a truly exhausting process.
But at last, it was done.
That very night, Maca drank the potion and snuck into the Restricted Section of the library. His curiosity for those dark and dangerous spells had long since reached a boiling point.
Previously, he'd ordered and studied a number of magical texts from Flourish and Blotts, including several that touched upon the Dark Arts. But those had all been carefully vetted by the Ministry of Magic and Hogwarts staff. If he truly wanted to understand the essence of Dark Magic—how it differed from the Light—he had to come here.
To the Restricted Section.
"Ugh—!"
---
The very first book Maca opened already bore distinctly ominous traits of dark magic. As he flipped it open, a terrifying face bulged out from the pages, letting out a soul-piercing shriek that seemed to resonate beyond the physical world.
He quickly tapped the book with his wand, calming the magical fluctuations. The contorted face faded away, and the book returned to its normal appearance.
"That scream… it felt like a cry from the soul itself, not an actual sound wave," Maca muttered, frowning as he flipped to the title page.
"The weight of a soul stems from the unbearable lightness of guilt." — Ragnar Bastos
Beneath the word "weight," someone had scribbled a small string of numbers and letters: "0.675oc m."
"An old ounce unit?" Maca mused. "Is this supposed to be the weight of a soul? How was that even measured?"
He skimmed through the table of contents and quickly realized the book was an in-depth theoretical study of soul magic. It contained no practical applications, only hypotheses and philosophical speculations. Even so, it was clearly a textbook example of dark magic.
As he read on, Maca began to feel a subtle discomfort. There was a lingering, veiled magical presence within the book that unsettled him. Only when he closed it did the unpleasant sensation abruptly vanish.
He went on to examine several more books. Each one delved into dangerous and mysterious branches of magic—some even resisted being opened, struggling as if trying to shut themselves.
"The more one attempts to grasp the essence of magic through dark means, the more intertwined it becomes with human nature and personality… What could that imply?"
Maca eventually left the Restricted Section and sat by the library window, trying to ease the tension in his nerves after being bombarded with such disturbing knowledge.
It seemed Filch had come by to check on the disturbance just moments earlier. Maca didn't even glance his way, merely stepping aside to avoid bumping into him.
Mrs. Norris, on the other hand, glanced suspiciously toward where Maca stood, still hidden. But she didn't spot anything.
To Maca, the contents of those forbidden books all seemed like relentless interrogations of the reader's character and conscience. Some even had enchantments that caused readers to feel like they were being questioned deep within their souls.
"No… a few of those books are still beyond me right now."
He wiped the thin layer of sweat from his brow and, feeling mentally exhausted, returned to his dorm for some rest. He needed to clear his mind.
---
A few days later, having brewed half a dozen vials of a new type of Invisibility Potion, Maca stuck waterproof labels onto each bottle. On them, he had scrawled a new name he came up with: Fairy Vanish Elixir.
It sounded pretty fancy, but truthfully, he'd just mashed together the words "fairy" and "invisibility" in a lazy attempt at branding.
With the potions in tow, he snuck over to the Whomping Willow at the edge of the Forbidden Forest.
Ever since he'd requested it, Professor Sprout—head of Hufflepuff House and his Herbology teacher—had often brought him along to help tend the famously violent tree.
Professor Sprout was a kind and cheerful woman who made no attempt to hide her favoritism toward students from her own house. Maca, being an outstanding student, had definitely become her favorite.
She had never once refused any of his requests—not even when he applied to use a section of Greenhouse Two for his experiments, nor when he asked to help care for the Whomping Willow, which was normally off-limits to other students.
Of course, while his curiosity about the tree played a part, Maca's real interest lay in the passageway hidden beneath its roots—a secret tunnel leading straight to Hogsmeade.
Standing now just outside the Willow's reach, Maca made no attempt to dash forward and search for the fabled "knot" on its trunk that would calm it. There were too many scars and knots to tell which was which, and he wasn't about to try each one.
Instead, he pulled out a small metal whistle and gave it a light blow. Though silent to human ears, the sound wave struck the Willow, causing it to tremble briefly before falling still.
"It actually looks quite pretty when it's not flailing around," Maca commented, watching the now-peaceful tree. "If only it didn't swing at everything that moved."