Chapter 23: A Cowardly Malfoy
The impromptu tryouts concluded with a completely expected outcome—Maca had officially become one of the youngest Quidditch players in Hufflepuff, and indeed, in all of Hogwarts history.
Judging by his performance, he rightfully earned another title as well: the strongest.
As Maca had anticipated, his study time was drastically cut short. But the training schedule was packed. While he became more adept at coordinated plays and formations, Darren had begun designing new tactical strategies. This was the strongest Hufflepuff lineup in years, and they were now beginning to dream—seriously dream—of winning the Quidditch Cup!
This new tactic was focused on building solid scoring opportunities—a refined game plan centered around consistent point-gathering. Maca's inclusion had lit a spark within the usually modest and unambitious Hufflepuffs. Now, for the first time in a long while, they wanted the Cup.
Because of that, every team member swore to keep Maca's recruitment under wraps. He would debut as their secret weapon in the next match against Slytherin—and they were determined to catch those sneaky snakes completely off guard!
So in the days that followed, Maca's schedule became even more demanding. When he wasn't in the library, he was on the Quidditch pitch. Every time he trained, a few older Hufflepuff students would always hang around the field to "keep an eye out." It was clear that the little badgers were taking this covert operation very seriously.
Time flew by, and Christmas was already approaching.
On one especially cold morning, the students of Hogwarts awoke to find the world outside blanketed in thick, glistening snow. The beautiful, wintry scenery made it clear—Hogwarts' first snowfall of the year had quietly arrived while everyone slept.
The lake behind the castle had frozen over with a solid sheet of ice, much to the students' delight. Now those sleds gathering dust in the storage rooms could finally be used—and during the Christmas holidays, they wouldn't have to rely on those wobbly little boats anymore!
Fred and George Weasley had recently gotten themselves into trouble—again. They had enchanted a few snowballs to chase poor Professor Quirrell around the grounds, one of which landed squarely on the back of his turban-covered head.
Maca had witnessed it from an upper-floor window and couldn't help but laugh to himself. Poor Voldemort… that's some terrible karma right there.
During these blustery nights, several owls were still struggling to deliver mail. Many of them lost feathers in the effort and had to rest under Hagrid's care before resuming their work.
Maca's own owl, Marfa, seemed utterly fascinated by the snow. Perhaps it was because in her native Sumatra, scenes like this were impossible to witness.
He watched as she soared through the sky, climbing high with powerful wingbeats before swooping low in graceful arcs. From a distance, you'd never think she was just an owl.
Lately, Maca had been wandering the Restricted section late at night, deepening his understanding of the Dark Arts. Still, he had no intention of dabbling in the more dangerous Dark spells—not yet. He didn't see the need to invite trouble.
While he quietly accumulated experience in potion-making, he also began focusing on Transfiguration. It was a long and endless journey of experimenting with all sorts of biological and non-biological materials.
With no shortcuts available, he decided to take a page from Hermione's book. After all, researching and memorizing the properties of different substances could also aid him in advancing his potion-making skills.
Speaking of which, there was a Christmas break coming up.
Last week, Professor Sprout had gone around collecting names of students staying at school over the holidays. Maca hesitated, but in the end, he signed up. He was planning to visit Luna during the break—he'd been so busy since term started, and he figured Christmas would be a good time to relax a bit.
Strangely, ever since he had mastered the Patronus Charm, he'd found himself thinking about Luna more often. He reasoned that it was probably a brotherly kind of affection.
It had to be… Right?
"…No, no, that's definitely impossible," Maca muttered, shaking his head and chuckling at himself.
At the moment, he was headed to the Potions classroom. There were a few questions he wanted to ask Snape.
But just as he turned a corner, he found himself face to face with Hagrid, who was huffing and puffing as he carried a fir tree that was somehow even taller than he was.
The hallway, usually spacious enough, was now completely blocked.
"Hey, Hagrid, need a hand?" a head popped out from between the tree branches. It was Ron.
"No thanks, Ron—I've got it," Hagrid wheezed.
Just as Maca guessed—definitely Ron.
"Can you move? You're blocking the way." A cold, drawling voice came from behind the tree.
"I suppose you're hoping to earn a few extra Galleons, Weasley? Maybe dreaming of becoming the next gamekeeper when you graduate? I bet Hagrid's hut looks like a palace compared to that dump you call home."
Ron immediately pulled his head back through the branches. Malfoy's sneering jab had clearly struck a nerve.
Sure! Here's the refined English translation of the passage with natural flow and consistent tone:
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"Weasley!" Snape's voice rang out.
"He was provoked first, Professor Snape," Hagrid said, poking his shaggy head out from behind a tree. "Malfoy insulted his family."
"Be that as it may, Hagrid, throwing punches is still against Hogwarts rules," Snape replied smoothly. "Accepting punishment voluntarily, like Maclean, is the wiser course. Five points from Gryffindor. Weasley, you should be grateful I'm not making you polish trophies. Now, off you all go."
At the mention of "Maclean," Malfoy immediately ground his teeth, clearly harboring a deep resentment toward Maca.
As he shoved his way roughly past the trees with Crabbe and Goyle, knocking pine needles everywhere, he suddenly caught sight of Maca.
Malfoy's scowl vanished in an instant. He averted his gaze and walked to the other side of the path as if he hadn't seen him at all. But that deliberate avoidance only laid bare his inner fear.
"Seems like the punishment worked… at least a little."
Maca turned to glance back, just in time to meet Malfoy's still-burning eyes. The moment Malfoy realized he'd been spotted, he quickly looked away.
"…Though perhaps not enough," Maca murmured with a small smile before heading forward.
"Professor Snape, excuse me," Maca called out to Snape, who was heading toward the Great Hall. "I was wondering if you had a moment to help me with a few questions about Potions."
Snape turned, giving Maca a cold glance before raising his chin in a gesture that meant: Get on with it, quickly.
"Ah, it's like this—"
While Maca was asking his question, Ron leaned over to whisper to Harry, "I've got to hand it to Maca. He can ask Snape questions without flinching under that freezing stare of his…"
"If you ask me, that's the only time Snape even slightly tones down his attitude," Harry replied, sneaking a look at Snape's expression. "Not that it's saying much."
"I can't even keep track of Maca's progress in Potions anymore," Hermione added wistfully. "Even though we still talk about problems now and then, I haven't been able to make sense of his notes lately."
In truth, lately, Maca's so-called "questions" often turned into full-blown discussions with Snape on advanced potion theories. While Maca benefited greatly, Snape himself found these conversations stimulating, gaining new inspiration from their exchanges.
Of course, Snape's mastery of the subject was no joke. More often than not, the discussions ended with him correcting Maca's misconceptions.
Yet, somewhere deep within, Snape had begun to take notice of this student named Maca. He had recognized something familiar—an intellectual approach to magic research that echoed his own: the willingness to ignore conventional notions of good and evil to pursue results.
To them, there was no essential difference between dark and light magic—only in how the caster chose to use it. That was the only true dividing line.
Perhaps Maca himself hadn't yet realized this—but Snape, once steeped in a much darker world, had seen it clearly.
After resolving his questions, Maca politely thanked Snape and walked over to rejoin Harry, Ron, and Hermione. Behind him, Snape stood expressionless, watching him go before finally turning on his heel and heading toward the hall.
Probably only Dumbledore truly understood what went on in Snape's mind.
As Maca approached Hermione, the group was chatting with Hagrid about something.
"Ah! You're finally done," Hagrid beamed. "Come with me to the hall—it's marvelous, you've got to see it!" The fir tree in his arms trembled as he laughed, shedding more needles everywhere.
"Let me help, Hagrid. You've almost shaken off all the needles!" Maca drew his wand and cast a Levitation Charm, causing the tree to float above everyone's heads as they walked.
"Oh—well, you didn't have to, but thanks," Hagrid said, looking slightly bashful.
And so, with Hagrid and his floating fir tree, Maca, Harry, Ron, and Hermione made their way to the Great Hall. Professor McGonagall and Professor Flitwick were already there, busy putting up Christmas decorations.
"Ah-ha! A fine Levitation Charm, Mr. McLean," Professor Flitwick said cheerfully. "Just place it over there—in that corner. Yes, that's the last one."
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