The next morning, Maca was the first to wake up.
He couldn't quite understand why. He'd only drifted off to sleep sometime past midnight, and yet here he was—wide awake at dawn. He figured it probably had something to do with that little rascal, Luna. While staying at her house, every morning had been a new adventure in unconventional wake-up methods. And strangely, the dazed little girl had always seemed to enjoy it. Without realizing it, he'd developed this "bad habit" of waking up at the same time every day.
Today marked the beginning of classes.
For the most part, Hufflepuff's lessons were scheduled alongside Ravenclaw's, while Gryffindor and Slytherin shared theirs. There was an upside to that—without Harry Potter around, Snape was slightly less volatile.
"Let's begin with roll call…"
Snape was, as ever, unyielding and humorless. His face bore no hint of a smile as he read through the names on his roster without even glancing at the students. Only after he finished did his cold, empty black eyes sweep across the room. In those eyes, Maca saw something hauntingly familiar—something he had once glimpsed in the drifters of Topoint Street, those who had lost their dreams and their place in the world.
"No," Maca silently corrected himself. "It's worse than that. His eyes… they're more than empty—they're dead. Cold. Lifeless."
After spending so many years surviving in the shadows of Britain's underworld at such a young age, Maca had learned how to mask his true self and read others. But now, for the first time, he found himself unable to glean anything from Snape's expression. It unsettled him deeply and sparked an instinctive urge to stay far away.
"In the underworld," he recalled a common saying, "the best way to stay alive is to steer clear of unknown dangers."
"Mister McLean, do you have something to add to my remarks?" Snape's voice cut through his thoughts like a knife. He was now staring directly at Maca, eyebrows drawn in that trademark scowl of his.
"Oh—uh, no, sir," Maca stammered. "I mean, I do really enjoy Potions, but some of the theory is quite advanced. I was hoping you might help me with a few questions I had while reviewing the material."
Flustered, Maca yielded for once, driven by his earlier thoughts. But he wasn't entirely bluffing—he did have questions that needed expert answers.
Just yesterday in the Hufflepuff common room, he'd asked upperclassman Darren about the professors. Though few students had anything nice to say about Snape personally, everyone acknowledged his brilliance in both Potions and Charms.
The "Potions Master" title, officially recognized by the International Confederation of Wizards and certified by the British Ministry of Magic, spoke volumes. Many of the methods in Advanced Potion-Making were his own improvements, though no one was aware of that yet.
Snape, however, was far from impressed by Maca's flattery. He let out a cold, mocking chuckle—if it could be called that—and said with thinly veiled contempt, "Oh? Is that so? Then by all means, let's hear it. But if your question is a waste of my time, Hufflepuff may be seeing a deduction in points. And let me make it clear—questions are not welcome in my class."
Maca swallowed hard. Thankfully, none of the Hufflepuffs seemed too concerned about the potential point loss. Instead, they looked at him with genuine worry, as if his well-being was more important than house scores.
That small gesture gave Maca a strange sense of warmth. For the first time, he felt a flicker of appreciation for being sorted into Hufflepuff.
"Er," he cleared his throat and steadied himself, then raised one of the questions that had truly puzzled him while reading Magical Drafts and Potions.
"Professor Snape, while reviewing the section on sleeping draughts, I noticed that one of the fixed-ratio constants in the formula isn't clearly defined in the brewing instructions. I wasn't sure if I missed something or misunderstood the theory."
As Maca spoke, his brow furrowed with focus—a sign he was becoming absorbed in the topic. He had a bad habit of losing awareness of his surroundings whenever discussing something that interested him.
Fortunately, Snape didn't seem particularly annoyed. He stared at Maca for a moment before responding.
"We'll be covering that later," he said curtly. "Pay attention and you won't have to ask questions like that again."
With that, Snape turned away and tapped the blackboard with his wand. Lines of text and potion formulas appeared instantly.
"Sit down." whispered Ernie beside him, tugging on Maca's sleeve. "I can't believe it! I heard Snape's the strictest professor at Hogwarts—and when he says points will be deducted, they always are. But you got away with it!"
Maca wasn't the least bit relieved, though—he was genuinely bothered by that question.
Two periods of Potions class had come and gone in the cold, damp dungeon classroom. The moment Professor Snape uttered the words "class dismissed," the students rushed to get out as quickly as they could. Between the shelves of preserved animal organs and Snape's ever-gloomy expression, there was little to make the room feel remotely pleasant.
As Maca walked past the door, he caught sight of Snape standing just outside. The professor left him with a single sentence before striding away:
"That constant isn't useful at all—it's a mistake left over from history."
Maca watched Snape's retreating figure. His long cloak billowed out behind him like the wings of a bat, and the image made Maca chuckle to himself.
"He doesn't seem quite as unapproachable as I thought," Maca mused.
Of course, things weren't quite as simple as he imagined.
The real reason Snape had been waiting at the door was because Maca's earlier question happened to touch on one of the very same doubts Snape had once held as a student—doubts that had ultimately sparked his passion for Potions. In other words, this was no coincidence, though Maca had no way of realizing that yet.
Right after Potions came Defense Against the Dark Arts with Professor Quirrell, whose head was oddly lumpy in the back. But there was little to be said about that class. Between the stuttering, garlic-scented professor and the disjointed, dull content, it was a painfully uninspiring lesson.
Maca truly couldn't understand how someone could make the tale of defeating a reanimated corpse sound so clumsy and unconvincing. Rumor had it that Quirrell had once been a top student—hard to believe now.
Setting aside Potions and that nearly content-free Defense class, the one course that genuinely intrigued Maca was Charms, taught by the part-goblin Professor Flitwick.
Despite his small stature due to his heritage, Flitwick was a professor worthy of every ounce of respect.
His class had a relaxed atmosphere—no rigid structure, and students were free to move around. He didn't mind if they joked around with him, either.
But the moment Flitwick began explaining the maddening questions Maca had stumbled upon in Magical Theory, Maca's respect for him skyrocketed.
This former dueling champion wasn't just a title—his insights and practical applications gave Maca a whole new understanding of magical theory. After several patient explanations, it felt like a new door had been opened to him.
"Thank you, Professor Flitwick," Maca said sincerely, always grateful to those who shared their knowledge.
Flitwick smiled and patted Maca's arm—he clearly couldn't reach his shoulder—and replied warmly,
"No need to be so formal. Theory can be dry, but it only truly comes alive when paired with practice. Still, you're one of the most insightful first-years I've seen when it comes to Charms—on par with Miss Granger from Gryffindor. Exceptionally gifted."
Afterward, Maca learned a bit more about Hermione from Professor Flitwick. When he heard the extent of her studies, he couldn't help but shake his head with a wry smile—she was reading far too much, which didn't necessarily help with comprehension or application.
In Maca's view, a solid foundation was the key to future learning and research. Even prodigies needed to progress step by step—and he was certain that neither he nor Hermione was a true prodigy.
As for the rest of his subjects, Maca's least favorite wasn't, surprisingly, History of Magic—which most students loathed—but Astronomy, particularly the weekly Wednesday night stargazing sessions.
From Maca's perspective, aside from a few magical connections, the methods of observation, documentation, and calculation were far inferior to what Muggles had achieved in this field.
Worse yet, the course had little relevance in the modern wizarding world. For someone as practically-minded as Maca, it was a torturous waste of time.
"Hey, I heard you shut down one of Snape's theories in class—is that true?"
During Herbology, while everyone was fertilizing some harmless and mild healing plants in Greenhouse One, Ron suddenly scooted over to Maca and asked eagerly.
Maca noticed that not far away, Hermione—holding a small trowel—seemed to be listening intently too. Clearly, she was also quite interested in the answer.