Macca had encountered Villy Bulova three times, and each encounter had ended with his frustration. For someone who had always been confident in his social skills, this was the first time he felt a profound sense of defeat.
After silently escorting Villy to the entrance of the Ravenclaw Tower, Macca returned to his dormitory and flopped onto his bed.
"What's wrong? You don't usually have that downtrodden look. Something amiss?" his roommate Ernie inquired curiously.
"It's nothing," Macca weakly waved his hand, "Just a bit tired."
"Tired at heart," Ernie added in his mind.
Early the next morning, as Macca entered the Great Hall, he immediately saw Hermione approaching him with a worried expression.
"Everything okay yesterday?" She scrutinized Macca up and down, seeing no apparent change in him, which led her to launch into her usual chatty mode, "I mean, seriously, you can be so impulsive! I already heard from Ron last night what that word means, but I think we shouldn't even care about it! Malfoy's just being brainless! No need to stoop to his level..."
"...Well, and thanks," Hermione added a bit sheepishly towards the end.
"No need to mention it. Remember, we're friends!" Macca shrugged, smiling, "And oh, you should really work on that tendency of yours to be chatty."
With that, Macca chuckled and headed over to the Hufflepuff table, giving a friendly "good morning" nod to Harry and Ron on his way.
"What's up with him? He seems unusually cheerful. Did something good happen?" Ron responded to Macca's gesture, then exchanged a glance with Harry.
"How should I know? Heard he's quite into taking care of the greenhouse plants. Maybe yesterday's punishment just suited his taste!" Harry shook his head, playfully answering.
"Both of you! Aren't you also Macca's friends? Can't you worry a bit about him?" Hermione walked over, sitting down across from them assertively.
"You caring about him is more than enough!" Ron managed to say with a mouthful of bacon, his words somewhat muffled.
"Macca's capable; he'll handle trouble well," Harry thought for a moment, adding, "At least much better than us."
"Yeah! He defeated a giant on his own! Merlin, it's still unbelievable when I think about it. Wish I could do something like that," Ron exclaimed with a hopeful look, "If only I could."
"Then you should focus on your homework!" Hermione chided, "Stop just casually dealing with it."
"Oh, here we go again," Ron groaned.
From a distance, Macca observed the trio from Gryffindor, thinking that if life continued to be this calm and peaceful, he couldn't ask for more. For him, this leisurely life, so different from his past, was exactly what he desired.
"McLean, come to my office after morning classes," he was thinking this when he heard a voice calling him.
"Oh, Professor Sprout?" Macca noticed her smiling face; this was likely good news, "Alright, Professor."
The first morning class was History of Magic, where Professor Binns, as always, used his hypnotic tone to discuss the evolutionary history of the self-stirring cauldron. While this seemed uninteresting to most students, Macca found a bit of inspiration in a few examples—perhaps he could improve this cauldron and bring his potion-making venture into a semi-automated age.
Of course, it wasn't that simple.
The second class was currently Macca's most challenging: Transfiguration.
Honestly, he loved this subject, but his progress in it was miles away from his proficiency in spells, let alone his talent in potion-making.
Especially after he came across several intriguing records in the Restricted Section some time ago, he found it even more distressing.
He discovered an unexpected link between ancient demon summoning spells and Transfiguration!
Leaving aside the blatantly forbidden summoning of demons, Macca suspected that the mere concept of summoning was inseparable from Transfiguration. Moreover, summoning was a form of white magic, known for its destructive power, and was once a primary focus for many accomplished white wizards.
Yet now, almost all related theories were lost. But this was a captivating topic worth exploring.
This alluring but intricate magic was like a luxurious feast laid out before Macca, tempting him beyond reach. How could he not feel anxious about it?
In the Transfiguration class, Macca effortlessly transformed a matchstick into a needle, then back again. As Professor McGonagall praised him, he appeared even more distressed—evidently, his sluggish progress wasn't solely due to his personal aptitude; there was something more fundamental at play.
Did he dare to approach Dumbledore and tell him that he stumbled upon records of demon summoning in the Restricted Section, hoping to quickly understand it? That was out of the question!
After class, Macca quickly headed to the greenhouse. He needed to fill the void in his heart with the unknown good news Professor Sprout had for him.
"Knock, knock." "Come in!"
Opening the door to the office, Maca immediately noticed another person inside—the Flying class professor for the first-year students, Madame Hooch.
"Hello, Madame Hooch; hello, Professor Sprout," Maca politely bowed.
"Oh, yes, you're here. Come over, my boy," Professor Sprout warmly beckoned Maca.
"Yes, indeed, there's good news today," Professor Sprout said, "Madame Hooch recommended you, saying you should join the Gryffindor Quidditch team!"
"Oh! I'm truly astonished by this news! You see, if you pass the selection test, you'll become the youngest team member in a century! I'm incredibly proud of you!"
As she spoke, Professor Sprout even couldn't help but give Maca a hug; she was genuinely thrilled.
"Yes! I believe Maca McLean can undoubtedly make it through the impromptu selection. His talent in Quidditch is unprecedented. I think, with proper training, he might even get picked for a professional team while still a student!" Madame Hooch said energetically, "Oh, this is true, isn't it?" Maca really enjoyed free flying in the air, but his interest in Quidditch was only lukewarm.
"Oh, of course! I've already consulted Dumbledore about whether first-years can join the Quidditch teams. He thinks it's a testament to the students' excellence." Professor Sprout said with enthusiasm, "Dumbledore himself loves the sport; he often finds time to watch international matches!"
"Well, er—not really? Ah! I mean, my blood is boiling for this!" Maca said excitedly.
Now that the concerned parties had agreed, everything was in order. After lunch, Professor Sprout used the lunch break to hurriedly hand Maca over to Darren Creech, the captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch team.
Speaking of whom, this helpful and mild-mannered sixth-year student was also the house prefect for Gryffindor!
"Maca, I've already heard from Madame Hooch," Darren patted Maca's shoulder with a smile, "Fantastic! I've never heard of a first-year joining the house team before."
"Yeah! I'm surprised too. In fact, I don't even know if I can handle it. Truth is, I've only done some basic flying exercises in the Flying class!"
Of course, there were times he couldn't control himself and flew around with reckless abandon.
"No worries, no worries! We trust Madame Hooch's judgment—remember, she's been the Quidditch Cup referee for many years!"
"Besides, in fact, our house doesn't care that much about the Quidditch Cup... at least, I believe Quidditch is a relaxing extracurricular activity!" Darren said nonchalantly, "So, I dislike the Slytherin team; they resort to anything for victory."
"Oh, yes, I think so too." Maca laughed and chimed in, "The feeling of soaring freely, I particularly enjoy that sensation!"
"Alright, lunch break is almost over! After afternoon classes, come to the Quidditch pitch. We'll organize an impromptu tryout for you. Look forward to it! Hahaha..." Darren left with a wave; he had to get to class.
"Hahaha." Maca awkwardly laughed along.
He realized that his library time at UU reading wｗw.uuｋａnshu.com was likely going to be significantly reduced; that didn't sound like good news.
The afternoon classes quickly came to an end. Just as Maca, along with a large group of students, was squeezing through the corridor on their way to the common room, he was pulled out of the crowd by a delicate and fair hand.
"Huh?" Maca was startled. After recognizing who it was, he let out a sigh of relief, "Oh, Senior Charlotte, is there something you need?"
"What could it be? I'm here to take you to the Quidditch pitch!" Charlotte patted Maca's back forcefully and said in a carefree manner.
Take him to the pitch? Could it be...
"Is Senior Charlotte a player on the house team?" Maca asked in surprise.
"Of course! Didn't I tell you? We might even be teammates in the future! If you want to see this beautiful lady every day, then you better step up today."
As Charlotte held Maca's hand and casually spoke, they walked downstairs under the curious gazes of many students. Although they couldn't hear what the two were saying, seeing Maca being led away by such a stunning beauty naturally piqued the curiosity of onlookers.
"Oh, Senior! I mean, don't pull me, I can walk on my own." Maca said helplessly.
"Being held by one of the Hogwarts Three Beauties, with everyone watching, isn't that a wonderful sight? You must be enjoying it, my junior." Charlotte chuckled mischievously, resembling a lecherous aunt trying to lure a young boy.
"Come on, cut it out! I haven't found anything enjoyable about this; all I feel is... I'm being paraded around in front of a pack of hungry wolf cubs!" Maca chuckled wryly.
"Taking advantage and acting innocent!" Charlotte playfully tapped Maca's head, but then released his hand.