The three encounters with Villie de Blois had all ended with Marcel feeling defeated. This gave him, a person who had always been confident in his social skills, a severe sense of frustration for the first time.
After silently escorting Villie to the entrance of the Ravenclaw Tower, Marcel returned to his own dormitory and collapsed onto his bed.
"What's wrong? You look so dejected. That's a rare sight for you," his roommate Ernie said curiously.
"It's nothing," Marcel waved a hand weakly. "Just a little tired."
Mentally tired, he added in his head.
The next morning, as soon as Marcel stepped into the Great Hall, he saw Hermione walking toward him with a worried look on her face.
"Were you okay yesterday?" she asked, looking him up and down. Seeing that he seemed unchanged, she began her usual rambling. "I say, you were too impulsive! I heard what that word means from Ron last night, but I don't think we need to care about it at all! Malfoy's just lost his mind! There's no need to stoop to his level..."
"...And, uh, thank you," Hermione finished, a little embarrassed.
"You're welcome. Remember, we're friends!" Marcel said with a smile and a shrug. "Also, you need to work on your bad habit of nagging."
With that, Marcel laughed and walked toward the Hufflepuff table, saying good morning to Harry and Ron on the way.
"What's with him? He looks so refreshed. Did something good happen?" Ron said, returning Marcel's greeting and exchanging a look with Harry.
"How should I know? I heard he likes taking care of the plants in the greenhouses. Maybe yesterday's punishment was right up his alley," Harry replied with a shrug, joking.
"You two! Aren't you Marcel's friends too? Aren't you worried about him at all?" Hermione came over and sat down briskly across from them, speaking loudly.
"You're worried enough for all of us," Ron said, his voice muffled by a mouthful of fried bacon.
"Marcel's very capable. He can definitely handle any trouble," Harry added after a moment's thought. "At least, much better than we can."
"Yeah! He took down a troll all by himself! Goodness, it's still incredible to think about now," Ron said with a longing look. "I wish I could do that."
"Then you should do your homework properly!" Hermione said. "Don't just slap it together carelessly."
"Oh, here we go again," Ron groaned.
From a distance, Marcel watched the Gryffindor trio, thinking that it would be for the best if life could just continue on this peacefully. For him, this kind of leisurely life, so different from his past, was exactly what he wanted.
"Maclean, after your morning classes, come to my office," he heard a voice call out to him as he was lost in thought.
"Oh! Professor Sprout?" Marcel saw her smiling face and figured it was probably good news. "Yes, Professor."
The first class of the morning was History of Magic. Professor Binns, in his usual sleep-inducing tone, lectured the Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw students on the evolution of the self-stirring cauldron. While other students found this content particularly dull, Marcel found inspiration in several of the examples. He was going to try to improve this type of cauldron, which might just bring his grand plan of getting rich off potions into a semi-automated era.
Of course, that obviously wouldn't be easy.
The second class was Transfiguration, the subject that currently gave Marcel the biggest headache.
To be honest, he had always liked this subject, but his progress was worlds apart from his progress in Charms, not to mention his aptitude for Potions.
This had become especially agonizing after he had recently seen some very interesting records in the Restricted Section.
He had discovered that ancient demon summoning was somehow linked to Transfiguration!
Putting aside the obvious taboo of summoning demons, Marcel guessed that the art of summoning itself had an inseparable connection to Transfiguration. It was a form of white magic that had been renowned for its destructive power since ancient times, once one of the main magical disciplines for many powerful white wizards.
Now, the relevant theories were almost completely lost, but it was a beautiful topic worthy of exploration.
Such a tempting and profound magic, for Marcel, was like a luxurious feast that he could see but not eat. How could it not make him anxious?
In Transfiguration class, Marcel easily turned a matchstick into a needle, and then back again. While receiving praise from Professor McGonagall, he felt even more distressed. It was clear that his slow progress was not a matter of personal talent, and that was the crux of the problem.
Was he supposed to go ask Dumbledore, tell him he had seen records of demon summoning in the Restricted Section, and that he wanted to research it as soon as possible? What a joke.
After class, Marcel hurried to the greenhouses. He was going to soothe the sorrow in his heart with the unknown good news from Professor Sprout.
Knock, knock, knock. "Come in!"
Pushing open the office door, Marcel immediately noticed another person in the office: the first-year flying instructor, Madam Hooch.
"Good morning, Madam Hooch. Good morning, Professor Sprout," Marcel said, bowing slightly.
"Oh, yes, you're here. Come here, child," Professor Sprout greeted Marcel warmly.
"Yes, yes, I have some good news for you today," Professor Sprout said. "Madam Hooch has recommended you. She says you should join the Hufflepuff Quidditch team!"
"Oh! I was so shocked to hear the news! You know, if you really pass the tryout, you'll be the youngest house team player in a century! I'm so proud of you!"
As she spoke, Professor Sprout couldn't help but give Marcel a hug. She was truly overjoyed.
"Yes! I believe Mr. Maclean will undoubtedly pass a special tryout. This boy's talent for Quidditch is unprecedented. I think, with a series of professional training, he could even be scouted by a professional team while still a student!"
"Er, is this for real?" Marcel genuinely enjoyed flying freely in the air, but his interest in the sport of Quidditch was only average.
"Oh, of course! I've already asked Dumbledore about whether first-year students can join the Quidditch team. He believes it is a testament to a student's excellence," Professor Sprout said enthusiastically. "Dumbledore loves the sport too. He often takes the time to watch international league matches!"
"Er, no way—ah! I mean, I'm thrilled!" Marcel said with an excited expression.
Since the person in question had agreed, everything was settled. After lunch, Professor Sprout eagerly handed Marcel over to the Hufflepuff Quidditch team captain, Darren Chris, during the lunch break.
Speaking of which, this gentle and helpful sixth-year boy was also the Hufflepuff male prefect.
"Marcel, I already heard about it from Madam Hooch," Darren said, smiling and patting Marcel's shoulder. "Brilliant! I've never heard of a first-year being able to join the house team."
"Yeah! I'm surprised too. I don't even know if I can do it. In fact, I've only done some simple flying exercises in flying class."
Of course, sometimes I lose control and just fly around recklessly, he thought.
"No problem, no problem! We all trust Madam Hooch's judgment. You know, she's been the referee for the Quidditch Cup for many years!"
"Besides, our house doesn't really care much about the Quidditch Cup... At least, I think Quidditch is a relaxing after-class sport!" Darren said cheerfully. "That's why I hate the Slytherin team. They always resort to any means to win."
"Oh, yes, I think so too," Marcel agreed with a smile. "Flying freely, I especially love that feeling!"
"Alright, the lunch break is almost over! Come to the Quidditch pitch after your afternoon classes. We'll hold a special tryout for you. Look forward to it! Hahaha—" Darren waved and left to get ready for his own class.
"Hahaha," Marcel followed with a few awkward laughs.
He realized that the time he could spend in the library was probably going to be drastically reduced. This was not good news.
The afternoon classes passed quickly. As Marcel was jostling with a large crowd of students in the corridor on his way to the common room, a delicate, fair hand suddenly pulled him out of the crowd.
"Huh?" Marcel was startled. After seeing who it was, he breathed a sigh of relief. "Oh, Senior Charlotte, what's up?"
"What else could it be? I'm here to take you to the Quidditch pitch!" Charlotte said nonchalantly, slapping Marcel on the back.
Take him to the pitch? Could it be...
"Senior, are you on the house team?" Marcel asked in surprise.
"Of course! Didn't I tell you? We might be teammates soon! If you want to see this great beauty every day, you'd better give it your all today."
Charlotte chatted casually as she dragged Marcel by the hand, heading downstairs under the curious gazes of many students. Although they couldn't hear what the two were saying, what boy wouldn't be curious seeing Marcel being led away by the hand by such a beautiful girl?
"Oh, senior! I say, stop pulling. I can walk on my own," Marcel said helplessly.
"What's so bad about being held by the hand by one of the three great beauties of Hogwarts and showing off in public? You must be enjoying it, my little junior," Charlotte said with a wicked grin, looking like a creepy aunt luring a young boy.
"Give me a break! I don't find this enjoyable at all. The only feeling I get is that I'm being paraded around for a pack of hungry wolf cubs to see!" Marcel said with a wry smile.
"You're taking advantage and still complaining!" Charlotte said, laughing as she patted Marcel on the head, but she let go of his hand.