This Herbology class was one of the few courses this academic year that Gryffindor and Hufflepuff shared together. While there might be changes in the coming year, it was the most opportune time for Maca to get closer to the trio of Harry.
Speaking of Harry, the boy who lived through many trials was currently locked in combat with a Floreus caterpillar on a stem and leaf! Yes, that same kind of caterpillar that the barely noticeable Michael Corner had once swallowed as a child. They particularly enjoyed lettuce but would eat plants in general.
As Ron pushed his way over to Maca to inquire about how he had dealt with Snape in Potions class earlier, Maca was lost in thoughts about these caterpillars! These critters were about ten inches long, not much shorter than Maca's wand. One could only wonder how Michael managed to swallow it as a child!
"Did he bite it before eating?" Maca pondered, shivering at the thought.
"...Bite it before eating? Are you already thinking about lunch?" Ron looked at Maca, puzzled, and then continued, "Never mind lunch; tell me already! How did you provoke Professor Snape? We're starting his class tomorrow too, and I've heard from the older students that he's always biased towards his own house. I wonder if that's true."
Maca finally snapped back to reality and shook his head helplessly.
"Who told you I provoked Professor Snape? That's just asking for trouble." He briefly explained the situation, leaving Ron baffled. Hermione couldn't resist joining in.
"Hey! I mean, did Professor Snape really say that?" Hermione exclaimed excitedly. "Those are authoritative potions formulas from Arsenius Jigger. How could he casually dismiss it as a mistake?"
Then, Hermione calmed herself down and looked apologetically at Maca.
"Sorry, I don't mean to question authority, but...” She hesitated for a moment, sounding skeptical, "I mean, is that quantitative constant really an unnecessary constant?"
"Probably." Maca nodded and began to explain quietly to Hermione. She chimed in with a few comments, seemingly getting convinced.
"What are they talking about?" Ron turned around and asked Harry.
"Probably something about Potions class," Harry replied. He had finally finished wrestling with a Floreus caterpillar; one of them was wriggling and struggling in his gloved right hand, unable to escape the wicked claw preventing it from having its meal.
"So, does that mean we'll be learning... I mean, whatever they're discussing?" Ron hesitated as he leaned over to listen for a few sentences and then turned back to Harry.
Harry shook his head; he knew he couldn't understand a word. "I think... probably not?"
Ron looked at Maca and Hermione who were still quietly discussing and then gave up, returning to tending the plants.
"The always neat Maca and the perpetually disheveled Hermione, that's quite an unusual pairing." He muttered under his breath, utterly perplexed.
"And then, the perpetually-bedridden Maca turns out to be an excellent student."
Before the school term started, Maca had stayed at the Burrow for quite a while. Ron believed he knew him well: though he looked intelligent and composed, he was fundamentally lazy and had a habit of oversleeping! Turns out he was apparently not quite the way Ron had imagined, and he had once thought he had found a kindred spirit!
"...Perhaps, we could get him to help with assignments we can't manage in the future?" Ron suddenly blurted out this idea, thinking it was brilliant.
Following the Herbology practical, the much-anticipated Flying class was up next, a course that Maca and the Ravenclaws attended together.
Naturally, Maca was looking forward to the class that allowed people to fly freely in mid-air, but he wasn't sure if he would encounter any difficulties.
Truth be told, he wasn't very good with directions even on the ground. Would he lose his way completely in the sky?
The first Flying class was held near the main entrance of Hogwarts Castle, on a slightly sunken and level ground. The grass swayed gently with the breeze, giving the place a vibrant feel.
Looking eastward, one could see the dark edge of the Forbidden Forest. The tall treetops swayed with the wind, emitting a rustling sound.
The little badgers from Hufflepuff were already on the field, watching as the Ravenclaw students made their way over at a leisurely pace. Madam Hooch, the Flying instructor, was urging them on loudly, urging them to move faster.
"Alright, what are you all waiting for?" She called out in a stern voice, "Everyone stand next to a broomstick. Quickly, quickly, let's not waste time."
Madam Hooch's short gray hair stood like steel needles, unmoved even by the wind. Her eyes were yellow, resembling an eagle sternly supervising its fledglings.
Maca selected a broomstick that looked comfortable from the neatly arranged ones on the ground and stood quietly beside it, watching as other students quickly found their positions.
"Extend your right hand over the handle of the broom," Madam Hooch shouted in front, "then say, 'Up!'"
"Up!" Under the strict tone of Madam Hooch, everyone seemed to be influenced to some extent, and even their shouts became remarkably organized.
The broomstick obediently hopped into Maca's hand, and he felt the unfamiliar yet exhilarating sensation. It seemed not bad at all.
But not every student had such a smooth experience. Some broomsticks merely twitched in place, while others rolled on the ground. Ernie's broomstick even shot up into the air, reddening his palms.
It seemed like this was also tied to one's innate ability; only a handful of people could handle broomsticks without a hitch.
Next, Madam Hooch demonstrated how to mount a broomstick without slipping off. She walked among the students, correcting their grip on the broomsticks and occasionally offering critiques to those who struggled.
"Alright, when I blow the whistle, kick off with both legs, leave the ground, and push firmly," Madam Hooch said, "Hold the broomstick steady, rise a few feet, then slightly lean forward and descend vertically. Listen to my whistle—three—two—"
"Oh!" Watching the ground getting farther away, Maca couldn't help but exclaim in awe. This sensation was truly unprecedentedly thrilling.
Madam Hooch paced back and forth, observing each person's progress. Of course, many still couldn't lift off; it seemed like their broomsticks were not very cooperative. Nevertheless, there were no special mishaps.
"Mr. McLean, you've exceeded the height I mentioned." Madam Hooch yelled loudly at Maca, "Come down, safety first!"
Maca was momentarily stunned, realizing he was indeed flying higher than everyone else. He quickly followed Madam Hooch's instructions, leaning slightly forward as she had mentioned, and the broomstick obediently descended.
"Well done," Madam Hooch patted Maca's shoulder, "Safety is the first thing beginners need to pay attention to. Gradual progress is the correct approach."
Maca nodded, inwardly thinking, "Next week, you'll see a soaring Neville and Harry! Of course, one of them in the literal sense, whoosh—"
"Madam Hooch, I was wondering, if a beginner accidentally falls off the broomstick, how can they be helped?" With this thought, Maca suddenly changed the topic and asked.
He had a bit of goodwill towards Neville, who was always nervous. If Madam Hooch were informed beforehand, maybe his arm wouldn't be broken.
That must have been painful; otherwise, Maca wouldn't have such vivid memories of that scene even now.
"A Hovering Charm would do the trick, no need to worry," Madam Hooch replied, assuming Maca was concerned about injury. "And if it's too late, Madam Pomfrey at the infirmary can fix them up; her potions are always effective."
"Oh! Thank you for your answer." Maca pretended to be reassured, expressing gratitude politely.
Of course, this was just a small episode in his learning life. For Maca, it was just something he happened to do. He soon forgot about it.
"Ha—! This feeling is amazing!"
With Madam Hooch's permission, Maca got a chance for low-altitude flight. This was something he had to persuade for quite a while, and now he was thoroughly enjoying it.
A gust of wind blew against him, whistling past his ears and making his robes flutter noisily. In Maca's control, the broomstick darted left and right, like a shark sprinting in water.
Although this shark was a bit too close to the "ocean floor."
"Be careful—! Slow down! Slow down! Quickly, do as I said—!" Madam Hooch shouted from below, but Maca was enveloped in the wind's rush and couldn't hear a thing.
After a while, having had his fill of excitement, Maca finally slowed down. He yanked the broomstick down abruptly, drawing a graceful arc in the air.
Before he could land, Maca noticed that Madam Hooch's expression didn't look quite right. He immediately understood the issue—during the latter half of the test flight, his speed seemed a bit too fast.
These broomsticks were practice models, even if they had some minor quirks. They were bona fide products, not children's toys.
"Apologies, Madam Hooch," Maca apologized as soon as he touched the ground, bowing his head. "I got carried away. I didn't realize that the sensation of flying would be this amazing; I wasn't paying attention."
Madam Hooch observed Maca for a moment before sighing, "I did mention earlier about gradual progress... However, you did well. Once you've thoroughly studied 'Quidditch Safety Guidelines,' perhaps I can let you fly a few more times."
"...I believe you'll discover how right a choice it is to fall in love with Quidditch!"
That was Madam Hooch for you, strict, fair, and highly responsible in dealing with everything and everyone, but most importantly—she genuinely loved Quidditch from the bottom of her heart.