This was a magical whistle that mimicked the wing vibrations of the Tree-Biting Hornet, a species known not only as the mortal enemy of the Whomping Willow, but also feared by most magical plants. These swarm-dwelling insects had one terrifying trait—they fed exclusively on mobile plants.
Maca walked up and patted the thick, exposed root of the tree. Instantly, the root trembled and slowly shifted aside, revealing a pitch-black tunnel beneath.
It was a downward-sloping hole, just wide enough for a person to lie down and slide through. Maca frowned, hugged the suitcase he was carrying tightly to his chest, and jumped in.
The slope wasn't long. Soon, Maca found himself crawling through a tunnel where he had to stoop low to move forward.
No light penetrated the passage—it was pitch dark. Rubbing the bump on his head from hitting the low ceiling, Maca reached for his wand… but paused halfway. In the end, he put it back.
The Ministry of Magic had tracking traces on every finished wand. Any underage wizard under 17 using magic outside of school would be instantly flagged. Especially in secluded areas like this, the risk was much greater. Even though he was technically still within Hogwarts grounds, it was best to avoid using magic if possible.
Instead, he reached into the inner pocket of his robe and pulled out a small glass vial. Shaking it vigorously, a sound like sand scraping against glass echoed faintly.
Soft light began to glow from within the darkness, gradually brightening. Peering into the vial, one would notice a strange misty luminescence forming inside, growing thicker by the second.
"When I've made enough money, I'm definitely getting a portable utility belt," Maca muttered as he adjusted his robe, which was weighed down by all manner of bottles and containers.
Some were potions, some half-finished mixtures, others just rare ingredients. But without exception, they were all incredibly useful little tools.
"…Or I'll just make one myself," he grumbled, clearly reluctant to part with any coin from his purse.
While shuffling forward, lost in idle thoughts, Maca noticed the tunnel beginning to slope upward. Before long, a faint light appeared i.
He removed the stopper from the glowing vial with a soft pop, and the misty light spread out, gently illuminating the passage before slowly fading away.
Only a thin layer of fine black sand remained at the bottom of the vial. Maca replaced the stopper and stored it away.
Many potions—and even raw magical materials—could replicate the effects of spells, sometimes even surpassing them. They also required no wand movement or incantation. The catch was you had to prepare them ahead of time and carry them with you. Still, their advantages outweighed their inconvenience. That was one reason why potions remained so valuable.
Over the centuries, many potion recipes had been lost to history. But a new generation of potion masters kept trying—recreating lost formulas or forging new ones—ensuring that potion-making retained its vital place in the magical world.
"…So, no, I won't take anything less than 200 Galleons."
In a dim corner of the Hog's Head tavern in Hogsmeade, a short wizard cloaked in a dingy, patchwork hooded robe was speaking in a hoarse, gravelly voice thick with a western rural accent.
His tone was calm, but his raspy voice sounded like it had been scraped raw with a file—enough to make anyone wince.
Across from him sat a wizard whose exposed skin was completely wrapped in bandages. His own voice, equally unpleasant and phlegmy, crackled as he protested. One might suspect he had a whole jar of phlegm stuck in his throat.
"No! Cough cough Your potion's untested! Without seeing proof of its effects, I can't put it on my shelves. I won't stake my shop's reputation on a gamble. And for just a sample, that price is too high!"
The short wizard's tone remained steady. "In that case, the deal's off."
He stood up and calmly walked toward the door.
"Wait—cough cough, damn it!" the bandaged wizard groaned. "Fine, I'll pay! But—cough—you'd better give me a discount if you want future business!"
"150 Galleons. Immediate payment," the short wizard said without turning around, already at the door, voice tinged with irritation.
"Done. Cough cough… Deal."
The bandaged wizard raised a weary hand. Despite all his reluctance, he was clearly eager for the new product—if it really worked.
That short wizard, of course, was Maca in disguise. He had altered his appearance to sidestep the biggest obstacle in any negotiation—his age—and held his own confidently in the exchange.
It was a satisfying transaction for both sides. No matter how reluctant the other seemed, he was clearly determined to get his hands on the product.
A brand-new Invisibility Potion—what a tempting business opportunity!
After the sample passed inspection, they signed a magically binding contract in duplicate, sealing a long-term deal.
"Cost price: 200. Profit split: 30/70… not a bad deal!"
Back in the Shrieking Shack, Maca hung the tattered cloak in an old wardrobe, then spit out a small stone chip from his mouth. His voice finally returned to normal.
He flicked the fine parchment of the magical contract scroll with his finger, smiling with barely restrained excitement.
Of course, even now, with 1,200 Galleons newly added to his vault, Maca had only just filled the pit left by all his practice expenses. He still needed to master other potions. Becoming truly wealthy? That was a long way off.
"No wonder so many potion books start with that phrase—'This is a road paved with Galleons, and it has no end,'" Maca sighed. The earlier excitement quickly faded with the reality of his situation.
---
Since Maca had secured a sales channel for his potions, everything began falling into place. His studies and research in various subjects steadily progressed with each passing day.
And most exciting of all—he finally made a breakthrough with the Patronus Charm!
One quiet, empty night, Maca stood alone in the spacious room conjured by the Room of Requirement.
Yes, after tireless searching and recalling old stories, he'd finally found the room—located on the eighth floor of the castle, across from the tapestry depicting Barnabas the Barmy being clubbed by trolls.
Only Merlin knew how many paintings, tapestries, and statues he had wandered past like a fool before finally finding the exact spot!
"Expecto Patronum!"
Maca stood upright in the center of the room, holding his wand like a sword before him. He focused all his attention and spirit on the tip of the wand. Gradually, a pure silver-white light began to glow brighter and brighter, eventually detaching itself from the wand.
In an instant, the light flowed freely around Maca, forming a faint mist of silver radiance that enveloped him.
Ever since he began practicing the Patronus Charm, this was always as far as Maca could go. In fact, he had been able to produce this silvery mist—so full of hope and life—even from his very first attempt.
Yet, no matter how many times he practiced, no matter how much denser the mist became, he could never summon forth his actual Patronus.
This persistent failure eventually drove Maca to revisit the fundamental theory behind the spell.
He pored over countless ancient texts, but found no real revelations. Most of the theories surrounding the Patronus Charm were vague at best—simply stating that the caster must concentrate on happy, positive memories. In essence, it came down to channeling strong positive emotions.
With no clear direction, Maca turned his attention to real-life cases of successful Patronus summoning.
At last, his efforts paid off. In several instances, witches and wizards had managed to cast powerful Patronuses to protect those they held dear. It was then he discovered the key—the moment of desiring to protect someone specific, under pressure or danger, was when the spell truly came to life.
"…Protect."
Maca recalled the first time he met Luna, in the cemetery.
Bathed in the light of the setting sun, her pale golden hair seemed to glow faintly. She stood silently before the cold stone grave, staring at the resting place of her mother. In that grey-toned scene, her silhouette stood out so clearly, so vividly.
Under the starry sky, when Maca instinctively tried to steer the conversation away from her mother, she had calmly acknowledged the pain of her loss—but told him it was something to be faced head-on.
And before they parted ways, the one thing that lingered in Maca's mind were her silver-grey eyes, hazy with emotion, quietly revealing her hope—the hope of meeting again.
As these memories flooded back, the silvery mist swirling around Maca suddenly surged upward, condensing into the shape of a massive silver eagle that began to circle him.
Maca stared at the majestic bird, an awkward expression creeping across his face.
"…How am I going to explain this to Professor Sprout?"
In Hogwarts, the eagle was the emblem of Ravenclaw House—a symbol of fairness, wisdom, sharpness, foresight, and lofty ideals.
Back when the Sorting Hat had decided Maca's placement, Ravenclaw was its first consideration. For reasons still unknown, it had ultimately sorted him into Hufflepuff, but there was no denying his affinity with Ravenclaw.
This Patronus, this eagle, was no doubt born not only from his desire to protect Luna, but also from that deeper, hidden connection to the House of intellect and insight.
"Well… sleep first, explanations later."
Maca gave his wand a small flick, dispelling the Patronus, and trudged out of the Room of Requirement—mind full of thoughts and emotions, trying his best to slip away unnoticed.