The special tryout ended with a completely unsurprising result. Marcel had successfully become one of the youngest players in Hufflepuff's, and indeed Hogwarts', history.
And considering the skill he had displayed, the title of "strongest" would have to be added to be more accurate.
Just as Marcel had anticipated, his study time was drastically reduced. However, the training schedule was fulfilling. As Marcel became more familiar with various formations, Darren designed new practical tactics. This was Hufflepuff's strongest team in years, and thus, the thought of competing for the Quidditch Cup was born.
This new tactic was a new winning strategy centered around building a base score. It could be said that Marcel's addition had given everyone a desire for the Quidditch Cup, a rare occurrence for the low-key little badgers.
For this reason, the entire team unanimously agreed to keep the news of Marcel joining the team a secret. In the next match against Slytherin, Marcel would be their secret weapon, destined to crush the little snakes who were so fond of their dirty tricks.
Thus, Marcel's following days were exceptionally busy. He was either in the library or on the Quidditch pitch. Whenever Marcel started practicing, several senior Hufflepuff students would always be loitering around the pitch. It seemed this "secret weapon" plan was being executed quite thoroughly by these diligent and dedicated badgers.
Before he knew it, Christmas was approaching.
On one particularly cold morning, everyone woke up to find Hogwarts covered in a thick layer of snow. The beautiful white scenery outside the windows told everyone that the first snow of the year had fallen while they slept.
The lake behind the castle was frozen solid, much to the delight of the students. The sleds stored in the junk rooms could finally be used. During the Christmas holiday, they wouldn't have to take the wobbly little boats.
The Weasley twins had recently been punished for bewitching several snowballs to chase Quirrell all over the place, coincidentally smacking him on the back of his turbaned head.
Marcel happened to be passing by a window upstairs at the time, and the scene made him laugh inwardly. That unlucky devil, Voldemort!
A few owls delivering mail in the stormy night had a rough time, losing quite a few feathers. They had to be nursed back to health by Hagrid before they could continue their work.
Marcel's owl, Malfurion, seemed fascinated by the snowy weather. Perhaps it was because in his homeland of Sumatra, one could never see such an icy landscape.
Marcel watched him circle high in the sky, sometimes flapping his wings to climb higher, other times diving to skim low over the ground. From a distance, no one would have thought it was just an owl.
Lately, Marcel had been spending his nights in the Restricted Section, and his understanding of the Dark Arts was gradually deepening. However, he still had no intention of studying the most dangerous forbidden books. He believed the time was not yet right, and there was no need to look for trouble.
So, while slowly accumulating experience in potion-making, he began to wrestle with Transfiguration. To be precise, it was a long and endless struggle with all sorts of living and non-living materials.
Since there were no shortcuts, he had no choice but to learn from Hermione's example. At the very least, researching and memorizing various materials would also contribute to his progress in Potions.
Speaking of which, there was a holiday for Christmas.
Last week, Professor Sprout had come by to register the students who would be staying at school for the holiday. Marcel hesitated for a moment but signed his name on the list. He planned to take advantage of the holiday to visit Luna. He had been busy since the school year started, and relaxing during the Christmas break seemed like a good choice.
Moreover, he had discovered that ever since he had successfully cast his Patronus, he had started to miss Luna a little. He felt that he probably had a brotherly affection for Luna.
It couldn't possibly be that he was a lolicon, could it?
"No, no, that's absolutely impossible," Marcel shook his head, amused by his own thought.
Right now, Marcel was on his way to the Potions classroom. He had a few questions for Snape.
But as he hurried around a corner in the corridor, he saw the enormous figure of Hagrid, huffing and puffing as he carried a fir tree that was even bigger than he was.
The once-spacious corridor was completely blocked by him, making it impossible to pass.
"Hey, Hagrid, need a hand?" A head peeked out from between the branches on the other side. It looked like Ron.
"Nah, I'm all right, thanks, Ron." It was indeed Ron.
"Can you move out of the way? You're blocking the path," Marcel suddenly heard Malfoy's cold, drawling voice from behind the fir tree.
"Trying to earn a few extra Galleons, Weasley? I suppose you're hoping to be gamekeeper yourself when you leave Hogwarts. That hut of Hagrid's must seem like a palace compared to what your family's used to."
Ron's head immediately disappeared from between the branches. Malfoy's taunt had clearly infuriated him.
"WEASLEY!" Marcel heard Snape's voice.
"He was provoked, Professor Snape," said Hagrid, sticking his large, hairy head out from behind the tree. "Malfoy was insultin' his family."
"Be that as it may, fighting is against Hogwarts rules, Hagrid," said Snape in a silky voice. "Following Maclean's example and taking your punishment is the wise choice. Five points from Gryffindor, Weasley, and be grateful I don't give you detention. Now, move along, all of you."
At the mention of the name "Maclean," Malfoy, who was standing nearby, immediately grit his teeth. It seemed he hated Marcel quite fiercely.
As he, along with Crabbe and Goyle, deliberately and rudely squeezed past the tree, knocking needles all over the floor, he walked forward with a face full of anger and saw Marcel.
Malfoy's anger immediately vanished from his face. He pretended not to see him and walked past on the other side of the corridor. But his deliberate avoidance of Marcel thoroughly exposed the cowardice in his heart.
"It seems the punishment had some effect."
Marcel glanced back and happened to meet Malfoy's gaze, which was still filled with hatred. When he saw Marcel looking at him, he immediately turned his head away again.
"...But maybe it wasn't enough," Marcel smiled and then walked forward.
"Professor Snape, excuse me," Marcel 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, gave Marcel his usual cold glance, and then tilted his chin, indicating that if he had questions, he should ask them quickly.
"Oh, it's like this—"
While Marcel was asking his questions, Ron couldn't help but whisper to Harry, "I really admire Marcel. To be able to ask questions normally under Snape's freezing gaze..."
"If you ask me, the best mood Snape is ever in is when Marcel goes to ask him questions," Harry said, sparing a glance at Snape's expression before continuing, "though it doesn't seem to be much better."
"I can't even figure out Marcel's progress in Potions anymore," Hermione said with a regretful look. "Although I often go to him to discuss problems, I can't understand a single thing in his recent notes."
In fact, recently, although Marcel said he was asking Snape questions, their conversations would almost always turn into a discussion about a particular potions theory. While Marcel gained a lot, Snape also found some new inspiration from their topics.
Of course, the knowledge of a Potions Master was no joke. Most of the time, the discussion would end with Snape correcting Marcel.
But it was worth noting that in the depths of Snape's buried heart, the image of this student, Marcel, was gradually taking shape. In their many discussions, he had keenly sensed that Marcel had a philosophy of magical research almost identical to his own: to achieve a goal, one must disregard all standards of good and evil.
In their minds, there was no essential difference between Dark and Light magic; both were tools to be used. The only difference lay in the user's moral code, and that was all.
Perhaps even Marcel himself had not realized this, but Snape, who had once been mired in a much more terrible darkness, had noticed.
After resolving the doubts he had encountered in his research, Marcel said goodbye to Snape and walked over to where the Gryffindor trio was waiting for him. Behind him, Snape stared at his retreating back with a blank expression for a while before turning abruptly and heading to the Great Hall.
Perhaps only Dumbledore truly understood what Snape was thinking.
When Marcel reached Hermione's side, they were chatting with Hagrid about something.
"Oh! You're finally done. Come with me to the Great Hall and take a look! It's magnificent!" Hagrid laughed heartily. The fir tree in his arms trembled with his laughter, shedding even more needles.
"Let me help you with that, Hagrid. You're about to shake all the needles off!" Marcel drew his wand and cast a Levitation Charm, making the fir tree float above their heads and follow him forward.
"Oh, you don't have to do that. I mean, thanks," Hagrid said, embarrassed.
So, Harry, Ron, and Hermione followed Hagrid and his fir tree, along with Marcel, into the Great Hall. Professors McGonagall and Flitwick were there, busy with the Christmas decorations.
"Aha! An excellent Levitation Charm, Mr. Maclean," Professor Flitwick said cheerfully. "Just put it over there, in that corner, will you? It's the last one."