Chapter 21: A Good Thing That's Not So Good
Maca's three encounters with Villy Boulouva had all ended with him at a disadvantage. For someone who had always been confident in his social skills, this was his first real taste of defeat—and it hit hard.
After silently walking Villy to the entrance of the Slytherin common room, Maca returned to his dorm and flopped face-up onto his bed.
"What's up with you? You look totally deflated. That's rare for you," his roommate Ernie said curiously.
"It's nothing," Maca waved weakly. "Just tired."
Emotionally exhausted, he added silently.
---
The next morning, as soon as Maca stepped into the Great Hall, Hermione hurried over to him, her face full of concern.
"Are you okay? Nothing happened yesterday, right?" She looked him over, and seeing no obvious signs of injury or change, started her usual rambling. "Honestly, you were too impulsive! I heard from Ron last night what that word actually meant. But I really think we shouldn't let it get to us! Malfoy's just messed up in the head—there's no need to stoop to his level..."
"...Anyway, thank you." Her voice softened at the end, a little embarrassed.
"No need to thank me. We're friends, remember?" Maca shrugged with a smile. "And you really need to work on that nagging habit of yours."
With a laugh, he strolled off toward the Hufflepuff table, greeting Harry and Ron in passing.
"What's up with him? He looks like he's in a great mood—did something good happen?" Ron asked, glancing at Harry as he returned Maca's greeting.
"I don't know. I heard he enjoys looking after the plants in the greenhouse—maybe yesterday's punishment was right up his alley?" Harry joked, shaking his head.
"You two! Aren't you his friends too? Don't you worry about him even a little?" Hermione scolded as she sat down opposite them.
"That's what you're for," Ron replied through a mouthful of bacon.
"Maca's capable. I'm sure he can handle any trouble," Harry added. "He's way ahead of us, honestly."
"Yeah! He took down a troll all by himself! That's still insane to me," Ron said, eyes shining with admiration. "I wish I could do something like that."
"Then do your homework," Hermione snapped. "Stop treating it like it's optional."
"Ohhh, here we go again," Ron groaned.
From the Hufflepuff table, Maca watched the trio across the hall. He thought, If life could stay this peaceful and steady, that would be perfect. Compared to his past, this relaxed existence was exactly what he had dreamed of.
"McLean, come by my office after your morning classes."
Just as he was lost in thought, a voice called to him.
"Oh—Professor Sprout?" Maca looked up to see her smiling broadly. Must be good news, he thought. "Alright, Professor."
---
The first class that morning was History of Magic. Professor Binns, as always, spoke in his sleep-inducing monotone, lecturing Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw students on the evolution of the self-stirring cauldron. Most students found the topic utterly dull—but Maca, amidst the examples, felt a spark of inspiration. He wanted to try improving the design himself. If it worked, it might push his potion-making business plans into the semi-automated age.
Of course, that would be easier said than done.
His second class, Transfiguration, was currently his biggest headache.
He genuinely liked the subject, but his progress lagged far behind what he achieved in Charms—and that wasn't even touching his natural knack for Potions.
Lately, things had only gotten worse, especially after finding some interesting records in the Restricted Section.
To his surprise, ancient demon summoning techniques appeared to share subtle connections with Transfiguration.
Leaving aside the obvious taboo of summoning demons, Maca suspected that summoning magic and transfiguration were intrinsically linked. In fact, summoning had once been a core branch of powerful white magic—practiced by many of history's greatest white wizards.
But now, the theories were all but lost. And that made it an irresistible subject for research.
To Maca, this deeply mysterious and alluring field of magic was like a lavish feast he could see but not touch. How could he not be frustrated?
In class, he easily transformed a matchstick into a needle and back again. Professor McGonagall even praised him. But rather than feeling pleased, Maca felt even more troubled—this slow progress clearly wasn't due to a lack of talent. That was the real problem.
Was he supposed to go to Dumbledore and say, "I found some notes on demon summoning in the Restricted Section and I'd like to study them further"? Yeah, right!
---
After class, Maca headed quickly to the greenhouse. He was hoping whatever good news Professor Sprout had would lift the gloomy weight off his heart.
Knock knock knock
"Come in!"
As Maca pushed open the office door, he immediately noticed someone else inside—the first-year Flying instructor, Madam Hooch.
"Good day, Madam Hooch. Good day, Professor Sprout," Maca said politely, giving a small bow.
"Ah—yes, there you are! Come in, dear," Professor Sprout beamed and waved him over.
"I've got some good news," she said cheerfully. "Madam Hooch recommended you for the Hufflepuff Quidditch team!"
"Oh, I was absolutely thrilled when I heard!" she continued excitedly. "If you pass the tryouts, you'll become the youngest House team player in over a century! I'm so proud of you!"
Unable to contain her joy, she even pulled Maca into a quick hug.
"That's right," Madam Hooch added. "No doubt in my mind—Mister McLean here has extraordinary talent for Quidditch. With proper training, he might even be scouted by a professional team before he graduates!"
"Uh, is this for real?" Maca did enjoy flying freely through the air, but as for Quidditch... well, he could only say his interest was lukewarm at best.
"Oh, absolutely! I already asked Dumbledore about whether a first-year could join the Quidditch team, and he said it'd be a great testament to a student's talent," Professor Sprout said enthusiastically. "Dumbledore loves the sport—he often makes time to watch the international matches!"
"Uh, no way—ah! I mean, I'm thrilled!" Maca said, quickly changing his tune and putting on an excited face.
Now that the person in question had agreed, everything fell into place easily. After lunch, Professor Sprout, clearly unable to wait, hurriedly passed Maca over to the Hufflepuff Quidditch team captain—Darren Chris—during the break.
To be fair, Darren, a kind and helpful sixth-year, also happened to be the Hufflepuff prefect.
"Maca, I've already heard all about it from Madam Hooch," Darren said with a friendly smile, giving Maca a pat on the shoulder. "That's amazing! I've never heard of a first-year making the house team before."
"Yeah, I'm surprised too. I'm not even sure if I'm up to the task. Honestly, I've only done some basic flying practice in class!"
Well, okay, sometimes he did lose control and just zoom around however he liked.
"No worries, no worries! We all trust Madam Hooch's judgment—she's been refereeing the Quidditch Cup for years!"
"Besides," Darren added casually, "our house doesn't take the Quidditch Cup too seriously... at least in my opinion. I see Quidditch more as a fun break from class. That's why I can't stand the Slytherin team. They'll do anything to win."
"Oh, I totally agree," Maca said with a smile. "I just really love the feeling of flying free."
"Alright, lunch break's almost over! Come to the Quidditch pitch after class this afternoon—we'll do a quick tryout for you. Look forward to it! Hahaha—" Darren waved as he hurried off to his next class.
"Haha..." Maca gave an awkward laugh.
He realized he'd probably have to cut back on his library time. Not exactly welcome news.
The afternoon classes flew by. As Maca was walking with the crowd of students through the hallway, heading toward the common room, a pale, delicate hand suddenly grabbed him and pulled him out of the throng.
"Huh?" Maca jumped in surprise, but when he saw who it was, he let out a relieved sigh. "Oh, Senior, what's up?"
"What do you think? I'm here to take you to the Quidditch pitch!" Charlotte said with a carefree grin, giving Maca a firm pat on the back.
Take him to the pitch? Wait a second...
"Senior , you're on the house team?" Maca asked, clearly shocked.
"Of course I am! I didn't mention it before? We might be teammates soon! If you want to see this gorgeous face every day, you better give it your all today."
Charlotte grabbed Maca's hand and strolled down the stairs with him, chatting casually. The curious stares from passing students didn't go unnoticed. Though they couldn't hear what the two were saying, it was hard not to be intrigued when a first-year was being led off hand-in-hand by one of the school's prettiest upperclassmen.
"Uh, Senior ! I mean, please don't drag me—I can walk on my own," Maca said, a bit helplessly.
"What's wrong with holding hands with one of Hogwarts' top three beauties, huh? Being shown off in front of everyone—bet you're loving it, my little junior ," Charlotte chuckled, sounding way too much like a shady aunt trying to lure a cute kid.
"Yeah, right! Loving it? Feels more like I'm being paraded around in front of a pack of hungry wolves!" Maca replied with a bitter smile.
"Ungrateful brat!" Charlotte laughed, giving Maca a light tap on the head before finally letting go of his hand.
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