Muggle Studies
by: Faithful Wheezy
It was a class he didn't intend on taking, granted, but what could go wrong when it's an extra class with your girlfriend? Too many things, apparently… can Ron and Hermione's relationship survive the year? Sequel to Arithmancy.
BEGINNING NOTES: If you haven't read Arithmancy, I highly recommend you read it now before starting this. Of course, you don't need to, but it'll be easier for you to understand some things in the story. To you returning readers, I'm really, really glad you're back. This story begins in the summer, and will progress throughout the whole year this time, so don't be too angry if this becomes rather long. Please review and enjoy!
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. I own a goldfish named Harry Potter, but that's an entirely different matter altogether.
Prologue
Ron Weasley was sitting slumped in a chair next to his window, peering out at the rain through the glass with the alertness of a hawk, even though it was nearly ten-thirty at night, his breath misting up the window panes. Occasionally, he would shift positions—left leg crossed, right leg crossed, or neither—cough a bit, or glance at the time—but other than that, Harry Potter noticed, as he watched Ron with amusement, the red-haired youth seemed perfectly fine keeping watch over the night sky and the precipitation falling from it, as he had been doing for the past two hours. Finally coming to the conclusion that sitting on one's arse without much movement for nearly three hours straight was not very healthy for you, he coughed to get his best friend's attention.
"Ron, relax, Hermione's not possibly going to send you a reply that quickly," he said patronizingly. "An owl, crossing a thirteen-hour distance in this weather?" he gestured towards the window, through which the two, now seventh-year boys, could see a gale unleashing its fury upon nature.
Ron shrugged apologetically and wrenched his eyes reluctantly from the window. "Yeah… you're right, Harry. D'you want to go down to the kitchens and get something?"
"Sure," Harry agreed. However, just as Harry had laid his hand on the doorknob of Ron's room, there came a rather agitated tapping sound coming from Ron's window. Catching sight of a large, tawny owl with Pigwidgeon crouching morosely at its claws, Ron immediately turned on the spot, narrowly missing hitting Harry with his swinging nightgown, and unlatched the window. Before the wind and rain could properly destroy Ron's room, the large owl and Pigwidgeon had hopped brusquely in, and with one loud hoot, the larger owl held out its talon, on which a perfectly dry scroll was clutched in its claws.
"Trust Hermione to think of a Water-Repelling charm," Harry said, grinning, stroking the large, rather drenched owl, which looked positively reluctant to go back out in the weather and inclined to violently bite whomever challenged it to do so.
Immediately falling cross-legged on his bed, Ron untied the scroll, in which two sheets of parchment separated themselves. "This one's for you, Harry," Ron said, tossing Harry the second sheet of parchment. Once Harry caught it, Ron concentrated on the words in front of him, in the penmanship he had learned so many years ago to love and cherish as more than just the right answers to homework questions.
Dear Ron,
Why is it that we owl each other nearly every day and I still miss you?
Ron cracked a smile at this statement.
Speaking of owling each other every day, poor Pigwidgeon looked so tired—I didn't want to keep my reply waiting either, you know, and there was a wizarding post office nearby anyway, surprisingly enough. I used one of the fastest owls they had, that's probably why my letter arrived so fast, if it did. If Pigwidgeon just holds on to its tail and flies along with it—assisted flying—the little chap should be fine. Dumbledore told me about a place here in Milan in passing, when he asked me where I was going for vacation back in June. There's a wizarding shopping center here too; it's called Vertík Alley, and I'm ever so glad I found it—not only were there many amazing stores to go around in with Mum and Dad, but the Italian roots are very prominent here, and it's amazing talking to all the shopkeepers and people (who understand English, anyway) and learning all I can about Italy. I'm learning absolute loads. I think I'm quite ready for our seventh year. I've already got all my books and things here (you should be getting your book lists soon, I just got mine this morning), and even a few things that you can't find down in Diagon Alley! I've bought you and Harry some souvenirs too—
Here, Ron noticed two small parcels, which the large, tawny owl had perched upon.
—I hope you two like them. I really do wish you were here with me, Ron, although I don't quite think I'll see you at all for the last week of summer…
Ron tried unsuccessfully to stifle a sigh while Harry watched in amusement.
But as school isn't far away, I'll at least be seeing you quite soon! There's a lot I have to tell you, that I haven't told you in my past letters, and I'd really rather tell you and Harry as well in person. You can't imagine how pleased Mum and Dad are! But I can't say much, right now, I'll leave that to when we finally see each other again—oh, and Ron, just so you know, our fireplace is boarded up just like Harry's, so don't attempt to Floo to my house unless you wish to sustain some rather painful injuries; I really don't want that to happen, and I'm not returning to London until the day before term starts. It's just one week, and we'll be seeing each other again, all right? I can't wait until we do—I miss you so much, Ron!
—Love from,
Hermione
Looking up from his letter, Ron found that Harry had already finished slightly ahead of Ron, as his letter wasn't quite as long. "So, er, what did Hermione say to you?" Ron asked, feeling his ears lightly tinge pink.
Chuckling, Harry rolled up his letter and placed it in his trunk. "Ah, nothing much—just a little bit about term and Italy, and a few things about my scar, although there's nothing to be worried about… it hasn't been twinging at all lately, and Dumbledore told me himself before term ended last year that Voldemort was going to lie low for the time being… what with Rufus Scrimgeour, twat though he is, becoming Minister of Magic; he was the most respected Auror, second only to Mad-Eye… he won't do anything tricky, thank Merlin." Taking one look at Ron's blushing ears, Harry burst out laughing. "So, what'd Hermione say to you?" he asked, adding a suggestive tone to his voice. "Anything important?" At this pronouncement, Ron only blushed a bit more, to Harry's great amusement.
"Oh, shut up, Harry," he said meekly, throwing a pillow at his best friend in retaliation. "She just talked a bit about Italy, you know… she's learning loads—hey!" he said indignantly, as Harry whipped the letter from his hand.
Harry nodded knowingly as he read the letter. "Uh huh… yep, knew it, she used their fastest owl—and, hmm… 'why is it I miss you when we owl each other nearly every day?'… 'I wish you were here'—huh, she didn't say that to me."
"She probably did, you mustn't have looked over it well enough—" Ron blustered, trailing off when he saw the great look of amusement on Harry's face. "Gimme that," he said rather lamely, as Harry laughed yet again.
"Ahh, we did a wonderful job, didn't we?" Harry asked reminiscently, lying back on the pull-out cot on the floor, lacing his fingers underneath his head. "The Godfather Gang, I mean, in getting you and Hermione together. Mind, it took a bloody long time, but it was well worth it, don't you agree?"
"Yeah, it was," Ron said grudgingly, now attempting to feed Pigwidgeon an Owl Treat nearly twice the size of its body, "like I've said for the thousand times you guys've made me thank you for the last half of the school year—"
"Which was well-deserved," Harry concurred imperially, to which Ron merely rolled his eyes. There was a slightly long silence which was broken from time to time by Pigwidgeon spitting bits of Owl Treat at Ron's forehead with questionable accuracy.
"Bloody idiot bird," Ron finally grumbled, roughly enclosing Pigwidgeon in his hand and stuffing it inside its cage.
After feeding the large owl some of Pigwidgeon's treats, Ron carried it to the window and unlatched it, beginning to attempt to push it outside, into the still-strong rain. Foreseeing a great danger, and not wishing to watch, Harry hastily excused himself—"I'll go down to the kitchens, Ron, I'll see you there"—but his speedy exit wasn't fast enough to escape the rather painful sounds of pecking and biting, coupled with Ron's vindictive yells of "Gerroffme, you idiot bir—aaargghhh!"
Wincing, Harry shut the door with a snap and hurried down the rickety stairs of the Burrow.
-x-
Tap-tap-tap.
"Ron, could you open the window please? There are three owls waiting on the sill."
Tap-tap-tap.
"Ronald!"
Tap-tap-tap.
"Ronald! Now!"
Sighing, Ron looked up from the game of Wizards' Chess he was playing with Harry and trudged to the kitchen window under the watchful eye of his mother, Mrs. Weasley, who was up to her elbows in dishes and soapy water. Once the three owls were let in, they immediately flew in, looking mildly wet and distinctly ruffled. "Harry, Ginny, these are for you too," he called into the living room. Relieving one of the owls of his own letters, he unrolled it and read through it.
Dear Mr. Weasley,
We are pleased to welcome you back for your seventh year at Hogwarts. Do not forget that your term begins on September the first. A list of required books and items will be listed on the page following this one as usual; you may notice a few new things in addition to spell books; this is easily answered—as you and your classmates will be in your seventh year at Hogwarts this year, there will be traditions that none of the other years will experience. The seventh-year traditions, all obligatory and not listed in any particular order, are listed for your convenience.
Ron frowned a bit and turned the page. He never knew that Seventh Years had traditions during their last year at Hogwarts.
HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY
UNIFORM
Seventh Year Students will require:
-Two sets of dress robes (one formal, one seasonal)
-One winter's coat (silver fastenings, no gold or diamond-studs)
-One Wizard/Witch's toga, white, request at Madam Malkin's or Twilfitt and Tatting's (although Madam Malkin's is highly recommended)
COURSE BOOKS
-The Standard Book of Spells (Grade 7), by Miranda Goshawk
-The Dark Art of the Dark Arts: Bring Your Flashlight!, by Quivus McTrimble
-Magic throughout the Millenniums for the Learned, by Saproph Senescue
-Advanced Transfiguration, by Chalfon Deinflectus
-Dangerous Plants for the Daring Herbologist, by Acanthus Infestus
"Urgh, N.E.W.T. books," Harry grumbled from the couch across from Ron.
"Dangerous plants?" Ron said apprehensively. "For the daring herbologist? What if we aren't—daring herbologists?"
Harry, too, was staring down at his letter in disgust, his eye twitching slightly.
After realizing that simply staring at his letter wouldn't change the subjects he'd have to be taking, Ron blinked and turned the page.
SEVENTH YEAR TRADITIONS
—Seventh Year Christmas Dance
—Seventh Year Graduation Dance
—Seventh Year Toga Party
—Individual Referentially-Chosen Courses.
More may be added in the event that new traditions will be integrated. The ones shown above are traditions that have already been set in stone, are obligatory, and will occur throughout the course of the year.
Minerva McGonagall,
Deputy Headmistress
Ron's head snapped up.
"Individual Referentially-Chosen Courses?"
"Toga parties?"
Mrs. Weasley glanced back at Ron and Harry with a fond smile. "Ahh, letters about your Seventh Year Traditional Activities, are they?"
Ron and Harry, still struck rather dumb, nodded, still staring at the parchments in their hands.
"What are Individual Referentially-Chosen Courses?" Harry asked again, looking at Mrs. Weasley in curiosity. "Did you have these as well when you and Mr. Weasley were in your Seventh Year?"
"Why, of course we did, dear," Mrs. Weasley said, bustling about the sink and wiping her hands upon her apron. "Your Seventh Year will be your most eventful—ours were, me and Arthur… oh my, yes, Individual Referentially-Chosen Courses—that's when your Head of House gives you one extra subject to take in place of the subjects you've dropped the previous year."
"What?" Harry and Ron yelled together.
"Yes, we had the same thought," Mrs. Weasley said, laughing at their outraged expressions, "but normally, if the subject you're taking is an Individual Referentially-Chosen Course, then you almost never receive homework; it's an old Hogwarts tradition that was created to give graduating students as much knowledge and information as they can get before they went out to work in the real world. Your father was given Muggle Studies… that's probably what pushed him to take such a strange liking in Muggle things," she said rather stiffly. With a resigned shrug, she continued, a little more lightly, "I recall taking Divination… load of hogwash, and that was even before Professor Trelawney—we had a rather… well, strange is rather too weak of a word, but, Professor Verrückt was quite a character. But," she said, watching Harry and Ron's mouths open angrily, "it was always a lot of fun, once I got over the thought that she was probably just making everything up as she went along… your Individual Referentially-Chosen Courses aren't designed to make you work. It is, after all, your seventh year, and what with N.E.W.T.s coming up at the end of the year, there's only so much more you can take."
"Are you given a N.E.W.T. testing on your Individual Referentially-Chosen Course?" Harry asked, still looking rather dubiously at the list. "Because that would be a whole load of—"
"Heavens, no," Mrs. Weasley said, looking rather terrified at the thought, "no, of course not, Harry, dear. Like I said, it's all given in good fun and the yearning for knowledge, nothing should be too difficult. And unless my memory deceives me, usually groups of friends are given the same Course… to ensure maximum educational intake. Ron, promise me that you won't misbehave? I really would like for you to learn as much as you can before you graduate."
"Yes, mum," Ron said, monotone.
As Ginny entered the living room (with the third owl promptly flying into her face, the letter swinging wildly from his talons), Mrs. Weasley went over to review her O.W.L. scores, Ron and Harry took the opportunity to give each other apprehensive looks.
"What d'you reckon about all these traditions?" Ron asked. "Should be a laugh, eh? I wonder what subjects we'll be given."
initium de alterum