"Kiwi pudding."
In front of the gargoyle guarding the Headmaster's office, Professor McGonagall spoke the day's password. At the sound of her voice, the stone creature leapt aside, and the wall behind it split in two, revealing a spiral staircase.
The staircase began to rotate on its own, carrying the group up to the entrance of the Headmaster's office.
"Come in."
Before anyone could knock, Dumbledore's aged voice sounded from within, as if he already knew they were coming.
Professor McGonagall stepped in first, followed closely by Maca and Snape.
"How are things?" Dumbledore gave Maca a gentle smile before turning to McGonagall.
"The students have all returned to their dormitories, and the troll has been dealt with—by Mr. McLean," she replied, glancing at Maca. She then gave a full report of what had happened.
Dumbledore listened with nods and thoughtful hums. Once she had finished, he finally spoke.
"Yes, I see," Dumbledore said. "Minerva, please continue searching the grounds to make sure no students are still out wandering."
"Severus, help Professor Quirrell move the troll."
"I don't believe that's necessary. Quirrell can handle it himself," Snape said, his face as unreadable as ever.
"I think it is necessary," Dumbledore replied, looking directly at Snape.
After a moment of tense silence, Snape said curtly, "…If you insist," then turned on his heel and left.
Now only Maca and Dumbledore remained. Maca felt a bit uneasy being alone with the headmaster, though he made sure not to show it.
"Would you like some kiwi pudding?" Dumbledore asked with a warm smile.
"Uh, why not?" Maca steadied himself, doing his best to not let his thoughts wander.
To be honest, the pudding was actually quite good. While Maca ate, Dumbledore simply watched him, smiling softly, without saying a word.
"It tastes great," Maca finally said, a little awkwardly.
"I think so too," Dumbledore said with a chuckle. "So, how are you finding life at Hogwarts?"
"Interesting, fulfilling… and I've made some good friends," Maca answered, deliberately picking optimistic responses, unsure if they'd help.
"To be honest," Dumbledore said, shaking his head slightly, "you are the most gifted child I've ever seen. No exceptions."
"No one has ever learned as much as you have at the age of eleven—not in all my years of teaching. And I've never heard of it in Hogwarts' long history, either."
"Uh, thank you for the praise, but… that might be a bit of an exaggeration. My Transfiguration still needs work," Maca replied, trying to be modest.
"I disagree," Dumbledore said. "I began observing you ever since your first magical outburst. Based on your decisions and experiences, I believe we can speak as equals—like adults."
This time, Maca couldn't hide his surprise. "Magical outburst? Actually, I've been meaning to ask about that ever since I got my acceptance letter. I don't remember ever having one."
"Ah, yes… That's because your outburst occurred at a rather unfortunate time," Dumbledore said with a sigh. "And I'm not sure whether I should tell you this—"
Maca froze, then suddenly stood up as if struck by realization. "Was it… during the car accident? With my mother?"
"Yes," Dumbledore said gently, his eyes full of sympathy. "Your magic surged to protect you in that moment."
"So, even if she hadn't thrown herself over me…"
Maca's voice trembled, and he slumped back into the armchair as if all the strength had drained from him.
Dumbledore remained silent, quietly watching him—perhaps with regret, or perhaps simply observing his reaction.
After a moment, Maca came back to his senses and let out a long, heavy sigh.
"The dead are gone… and that's exactly why I want to become strong enough to protect the living," he said, raising his head and looking Dumbledore in the eyes for the first time, voice filled with determination.
"That resolve is real. I can feel it," Dumbledore said, nodding in approval. His eyes twinkled again with that familiar wisdom. "Death often marks the end of one person's story… but it can also be the beginning of someone else's. Always remember, death itself is not something to be feared."
---
Maca knew that Dumbledore had seen a shadow of the former Voldemort in him. Fortunately, he truly bore no evil intentions and passed this silent test.
Dumbledore and Snape were, in essence, the same kind of people. They never lacked power or ambition, yet they would sacrifice everything— even their own lives— for love. The difference, however, was that Dumbledore's love was for all, while Snape's love belonged to Lily alone.
As for Maca… he didn't know what kind of person he would turn out to be.
That night, Maca lay in bed, his mind adrift. So much had happened today. On top of that, he had learned a shocking truth from Dumbledore, which only sent his imagination spiraling further. He didn't fall asleep until deep into the night.
…
By November, the weather had turned bitterly cold. The mountains surrounding the school were gray and dusted with snow, and the lake was as hard and cold as tempered steel. Each morning, frost covered the ground, and students had to watch their steps to avoid slipping and falling.
Maca sat at the dining table, eating breakfast. Around him, a crowd had gathered.
He wasn't sure who leaked the news—probably Ron—but by now, more than half the school had heard about Maca's heroic feat: he had singlehandedly defeated a twelve-foot mountain troll! It was almost unbelievable.
Now, Maca had become something of a celebrity. Students kept coming up to talk to him, and even a few first-year girls asked for his autograph!
Maca found that he rather enjoyed being surrounded like this. It wasn't just vanity—though that was part of it—he genuinely felt warm in the center of the crowd.
And no, that wasn't just an excuse—believe me! Try surrounding yourself with a bunch of people and see if it doesn't feel warm.
Recently, Hagrid had been bundled up in a long mole-skin coat, wearing rabbit-fur gloves and enormous beaver-fur boots, de-icing the broomsticks on the Quidditch pitch.
That could only mean one thing—Quidditch season had begun!
To be honest, Maca really wanted to try out for the Hufflepuff team, but he had always been too busy. Besides, first-years were rarely allowed on house teams anyway.
"Harry was just a special case," Maca muttered as he looked over at the Gryffindor table. Harry and Ron were whispering to each other, clearly discussing the same topic.
What puzzled Maca was that he hadn't heard any rumors about Harry joining the Gryffindor team as a Seeker. Could it be that Oliver Wood, the team captain, was planning to keep Harry a secret weapon?
"They've kept it under wraps pretty well," Maca murmured, swallowing his food with a thoughtful expression.
But when the match day arrived and Maca spotted Harry heading to the stands instead of the pitch—just like him—he was caught completely off guard.
"What's going on?" Maca stared in disbelief as Harry disappeared into the stairs leading to the Gryffindor stands. His face was full of unfiltered surprise.
"What's got you staring, dear knight?" came a teasing voice. Charlotte, a senior student, hooked an arm around Maca's shoulder with a grin. "Are you watching your Gryffindor princess?"
"Uh—no," Maca shook his head, casting another glance toward the Gryffindor stands before turning and climbing the stairs with Charlotte to their side.
The Quidditch match was exciting, but Maca found it hard to focus.
His attention kept drifting toward the teachers' stand—without Harry on the pitch, would Quirrell act differently?
Nothing unexpected happened throughout the match. With Harry not playing, it seemed they had cut off the possibility of Quirrell making a move. But Maca couldn't shake off the unease. Would Quirrell find another chance to go after Harry?
"At least we've dodged one inevitable crisis," he thought. He couldn't be sure, but for now, there wasn't much else he could do.
Gryffindor's match against Slytherin ended with a score of 60 to 210. At one point, the scores had been tied, but the Slytherin Seeker caught the Snitch, bringing the match to a dramatic end.
Maca wasn't interested in the outcome. After a quick glance at the scoreboard, he made his way toward the Gryffindor crowd.
"Hey, Harry!" Maca tried to sound casual. "Don't worry, the season's only just begun."
"Oh, yeah. Still, losing to Slytherin always stings," Harry sighed.
So, even though he wasn't on the team, he really did love the sport.
Maca recalled what he'd been pondering earlier and asked, "I heard Neville almost fell during your first flying lesson. Is that true?"
Harry nodded. "Yeah! If Madam Hooch hadn't reacted quickly, he'd definitely have ended up in the hospital wing."
"He went really high up!" Ron added, waving his hands for emphasis with a grin.
"What happened afterward? Did Malfoy give him a hard time?"
"Oh yeah, that jerk's always teasing people. I wish I could hit him with a Jelly-Legs Jinx!" Ron fumed.
"Our whole midnight duel thing started because of a fight in that class," Harry added, clearly still annoyed.
"Yeah, that guy's trouble," Maca agreed absentmindedly, piecing together the events in his mind.
"So that's what happened… it all makes sense now."