The next morning, Marcel was the first to wake up.
He couldn't figure it out himself. He had only drifted off late last night, so how had he woken up so early? He figured it probably had something to do with that little girl, Luna. While staying at her house, he had been subjected to all sorts of wake-up methods every morning, and the dazed-looking girl seemed to take great pleasure in it. Unconsciously, he had developed the "bad habit" of waking up on time.
Today, classes would begin.
Most of Hufflepuff's classes were scheduled with Ravenclaw. Correspondingly, Gryffindor's classes were held with the Slytherins. This had one advantage: in a place without Harry Potter, Snape would be relatively less irritable.
"We will now begin roll call..."
Snape was as impassive as ever, his face perpetually devoid of a smile. He read the names from the register one by one with a stern expression, not even glancing at the students. When he finished, he finally swept his cold, empty black eyes over the class. In them, Marcel saw a look similar to that of the homeless men on the streets of Torpoint who had lost their lives and dreams.
No, Marcel silently refuted in his mind. Compared to a homeless man, his gaze is more... more absolute. They're like the eyes of a dead man: cold, empty, and full of death.
Having lived in the dark side of Britain for so long at such a young age, Marcel had survived by relying on his ability to disguise himself and to read others. But now, Marcel found he could get no information from Snape at all. For the first time, it made him want to stay far away from this person.
"Staying away from unknown dangers is the most effective way to protect yourself." This was a golden rule that had always circulated in the world of darkness.
"Mr. Maclean, do you have a different opinion on my words?" Just as Marcel was staring blankly into Snape's eyes, the man seemed to notice something and looked at him, speaking with a frown.
"Oh, no. I mean, I'm very fond of Potions, but the theory involved is very complex. I sincerely hope, Professor Snape, that you can help me resolve some of the questions I encountered during my preparatory reading."
Caught off guard, Marcel was swayed by his earlier thought and, in a rare move, backed down. However, he did indeed have many questions he wanted an authoritative answer to, so it wasn't complete nonsense.
Yesterday in the Hufflepuff common room, Marcel had asked Prefect Darren for a lot of information about the various professors. As for Snape, although almost no student liked him, his achievements in Potions and Charms were undeniable.
Just the title of "Potions Master," recognized by the International Confederation of Wizards and awarded by the British Ministry of Magic, was enough to grant him a place in the global wizarding community. The book Advanced Potion-Making contained many potion-making methods he had improved, though at present, no one knew this yet.
However, Snape was completely unimpressed by Marcel's words. He gave a cold smile, if you could call it that, and said in a contemptuous tone, "Oh? Is that so? Then why don't you share it? But if it's just some boring question, Hufflepuff may have to lose some points. I will say this again: questions are not welcome in my classroom!"
Marcel couldn't help but swallow. Fortunately, the other Hufflepuffs didn't seem to mind losing points. Instead, they looked at him with worried eyes, as if the safety of a classmate was far more important than house points.
Marcel glanced around, and while breathing a sigh of relief, he couldn't help but feel a flicker of affection for this house. Only now did he have the thought for the first time: Being sorted into Hufflepuff doesn't seem so bad.
"Ahem." He cleared his throat to compose himself and then raised the most perplexing question he had encountered while reading Magical Drafts and Potions.
"Professor Snape, while studying the section on the Sleeping Draught, I found that a quantitative constant in its formula is not clearly defined in the actual brewing process. This has left me completely baffled. I'm not sure if I've misunderstood something." As Marcel spoke, his brow furrowed, a clear sign that he was completely absorbed.
When discussing knowledge he cared about, he usually forgot his surroundings and the person he was talking to. It was a bad habit of his.
Fortunately, Snape did not show any impatience. He stared at Marcel for a moment before speaking.
"I will cover the Sleeping Draught later. If you listen carefully, you will not need to ask such questions," Snape said coldly and looked away from Marcel. He turned and tapped the blackboard with his wand, and lines of text and formulas immediately appeared.
"Sit down, you can sit down now," Ernie, sitting next to him, tugged on Marcel's sleeve and whispered. "I can't believe it! I heard Professor Snape is the strictest professor at Hogwarts. He's never failed to deduct points he said he would!"
Marcel, however, felt no sense of relief. He was genuinely concerned about that question.
The two Potions lessons in the dungeons were completed in a cold atmosphere. As soon as Professor Snape said the words "class dismissed," the students eagerly left. In that classroom, apart from the numerous jars of preserved animal parts and the perpetually grim-faced Snape, there was nothing else. The entire room was filled with an unpleasant air.
"That quantitative constant is useless. It's a historical error," As Marcel passed the doorway, he saw Snape standing just outside. He left him with that sentence and then strode away.
Marcel watched Snape's retreating back, thinking that his large cloak billowed as he walked, making him look like a giant, walking bat. The image made him chuckle.
He doesn't seem as hard to communicate with as I thought, Marcel mused.
Of course, it wasn't as simple as Marcel thought. The reason Snape had waited at the door to provide the answer was because Marcel's question happened to be one of the very things that had sparked Snape's own deep fascination with Potions. In other words, Snape had once had the same question as a student.
This was a coincidence that was not a coincidence, a fact that Marcel could never have guessed at this moment.
Following Potions was Defense Against the Dark Arts, taught by Professor Quirrell, who had some fleshy growth on the back of his head. But there was nothing worth mentioning about that class. Besides Professor Quirrell himself, who reeked of garlic and stuttered, the hollow and tedious course content was also quite depressing.
Marcel really couldn't understand how someone could tell the story of dealing with zombies in such a stumbling and unconvincing way. He had heard that Quirrell was an outstanding student with good grades during his time at Hogwarts.
Setting aside Potions and the almost useless Defense Against the Dark Arts class, the subject that interested Marcel the most was undoubtedly Charms, taught by Professor Flitwick, who had goblin ancestry.
Although the professor was short due to his heritage, he was a good teacher worthy of everyone's respect.
In his class, there were no strict requirements. Students could even move around freely. He wouldn't get upset even if a student joked with him.
But when Professor Flitwick explained in detail the maddening problems Marcel had encountered in Magical Theory, Marcel was immediately filled with awe for the professor.
The former dueling champion was truly no joke. His insights and application of techniques gave Marcel a completely different understanding of the fundamental magical theory of this world. After several explanations, it was as if a new door had been opened for Marcel.
"Thank you, esteemed Professor Flitwick," Marcel always held a sincere respect for those who imparted knowledge to him.
Professor Flitwick smiled and patted Marcel's arm, as it was clearly inconvenient for him to reach his shoulder. "No need to be so serious," he said kindly. "Theory is dry. Only by combining it with practical application can one gain a deeper understanding. However, you are still the most insightful student in this year's class when it comes to the study of Charms. Just like Miss Granger from Gryffindor, quite outstanding."
Afterward, Marcel learned some information about Hermione from Professor Flitwick. When he heard about the scope of Hermione's studies, he couldn't help but shake his head with a wry smile. She read too many books, which wasn't necessarily beneficial for understanding and application.
In Marcel's view, a solid grasp of the basics was the most crucial foundation for further learning and research. Even a genius needed to take it step by step, and he was well aware that he was no genius. Hermione probably wasn't either.
Of the remaining subjects, the one Marcel disliked the most was not History of Magic, which most students loathed, but the celestial observation on Wednesday nights, a regular part of Astronomy class. As Marcel saw it, aside from the magical knowledge involved, the methods of observation, recording, and calculation were far inferior to Muggle research in the field.
Most importantly, this subject was no longer very useful in the modern wizarding world. This made a pragmatist like Marcel feel extreme anguish toward the course.
"Hey, I heard you refuted Snape's theory in his class. Is that true?"
In Herbology class, while everyone was fertilizing some harmless and gentle restorative plants in Greenhouse One, Ron suddenly came over and asked Marcel with great interest.
Marcel noticed that not far away, Hermione, holding a small trowel, also seemed to be paying attention. It appeared she was also very interested in this question.