swift recommended irish babies but the truth is the english are the tastiest meat. i've prepared this morsel with the freshest scrappings from the brain of a gloucestershirewoman.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

The Muggle Studies classroom took up a lot of the fifth floor East Wing, but that was because it functioned in part as a museum. At the front of the room I had a desk and two blackboards. On one side wall there were shelves for displays. Along the other there were windows with a fine view of the traditional Scottish winter scenery, ice mist. On the back wall, taped up around the classroom door, there were film posters. The most recent poster was for the first X-Men film. In between all that...

My classroom looked a bit like a hoarder's bedroom. A side table near the front of the room held two microwave ovens, a toaster, three clock radios, and a cellphone recharger, among all the clutter. The shelves along the inside wall were covered with common household appliances stocked next to old magazines and, for some reason, hats. There was also a printer, a vacuum cleaner, an espresso machine, a big can of Ovaltine, and a clunky 1980's-era answering machine with an actual tape it in. At the front of the room, next to my newspaper-covered desk, stood a grey contraption that I couldn't figure out. It was obviously some piece of early electronics, with two big spools on the front to run magnetic tape through, but it was the size of a bedside table and the back opened up to show vacuum tubes.

''Th' Brounies did braw wark,'' said Sister Shibley. ''There's nigh enaw fluir fur th' desks noo.''

I'd asked the House-Elves to haul away the real junk. ''I'm amazed they could move the printing press,'' I said. ''But all the stories I've heard said House-Elves - Brownies - were hard workers.''

''Did ye nae hae them in yer homelain?''

''Not that I've ever heard of, but I could be wrong.'' I looked around the room again. It was huge, but still had room for less than forty student desks. But I couldn't get rid of any more junk. The Board of Governors viewed it all as Valuable Teaching Aids. Not that they would dampen the Anti-Current or Anti-Circuit Charms and let me have electricity to run any of it.

I heard voices outside the door. I moved quickly to take my place behind the desk before my students came in. ''Thank you for your help, Sister.''

''Se do bheatha, Professor.'' I didn't know a lot of Gaelic, but I knew by now that 'sheh doe VEH-huh' meant 'you're welcome'. Shibley took one of the desks near the back of the room, as I'd asked her earlier. It never hurts to have an extra pair of eyes at your back.

The noise grew, but the door stayed closed. I waited past the bells, but no one came in.

''Sister, could you...''

''Aye.'' Sister Shibley left her desk and poked her head through the door. She came back quickly. ''Th' stoatin wee ninnies ur aw... Millin' abit, Professur.''

I sighed. ''Thank you, Sister. Take your seat, I'll deal with this.''

I walked to the back of the classroom and opened the door, mentally kicking myself for leaving it closed in the first place. There in the hall, milling about in the Sister's words, were my First Years.

''Boo,'' I said. One of the girls closest to the door actually jumped a bit. A mob of eleven year olds looked up at me with big nervous eyes.

''Hello. Come in please.'' I pointed to a couple of kids and waved them through the door. ''You two first, someone has to be first. Okay, now you...''

Once I had the herd moving they went through on their own, staring at me as they passed. What stood out to me was the whiteness of the group, and how many pale blondes and redheads there were. The Pureblood families had been through a couple of severe population bottlenecks and didn't have much by way of genetic diversity. Which is the polite way of saying that Purebloods are the most inbred bunch of hillbillies I'd ever seen.

Once they were all through I went back to the front of the room, leaving the door open this time. Purebloods taught their kids that Muggles stole children and hunted witches, both of which were true under certain circumstances. I thought an open door might make my students less nervous.

Finally they all found seats, clustering together towards the back and middle of the room, leaving the front row of desks empty. ''Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to Muggle Studies for First Years. I am Professor Geoffrey Hunter and yes, I am a Muggle. Sort of.''

Five rows of quiet children stared at me. Yes, well. ''I'm going to do a quick roll call, so I know who all of you are. After that, I'll explain what this class is about and what I hope to teach you.''

I ran through the list of names. Some of them were familiar to me from my reading, others I'd only heard at Sorting. Still others...

''NicMaeldun, Shibley.''

...

''Shibley NicMaeldun?''

''Aye...''

Well, I'd find out later if I'd done the right thing. I ran through the rest of the list, coming to the last of my students...

''Wyvern, Alice.''

''Here.''

''We're cousins, Ms. Wyvern. My great-grandfather Lucas was a Wyvern. His wife Lyra was originally a Black.''

The dark-eyed pale-skinned girl did not look impressed. Oh well. She was the last on the list, and every student was present.

''To begin with, I'll tell you what we won't be studying. We won't be studying how to use a blender or television set, or turn on lights. Most of this stuff is really easy to figure out on your own, and more complicated Muggle devices all have instruction manuals. We will do field trips through the year, and if there's a specific Muggle device you're really interested in, ask me after class and I'll arrange a demonstration for you.

''What we will be studying in this room is how Muggles live, how they arrange their day to day lives, and how they think about things. I'm sure you've all noticed there's only one book on the First Year required reading list?''

Fifteen pairs of eyes stared at me.

''Victorian House by Judith Flanders is one of the best simple descriptions of how people lived in Victorian Britain. She's wrong in many of her conclusions regarding Victorian morality and social attitudes, particularly with regard to gender and class relations - '' Eleven year olds. Don't get too deep. ''But that's not important. It's easy to read and has a lot of information. Things have changed a bit since Queen Victoria's days, but not as much as you might think. I can bring you up to speed on current events in classroom discussions.''

I swear I heard crickets.

''You've got one book to read this year. It's dead easy. It doesn't bite and neither do I. Any questions?''

One of the pale blonde girls slowly raised her hand. ''Selena Spinks, right? What's your question, Ms. Spinks?''

''My father says Muggle money is stupid? Because it's made of paper?''

''Those aren't questions, Ms. Spinks. Those are statements. A question would be something like 'What does your father suggest Muggles use instead of paper?'.''

She stared at me for a few seconds. ''Sir?''

''What should Muggles use instead of paper, Ms. Spinks? And remember that Galleons, Sickles, and Knuts are made out of goblin metals but have very simple designs. They're only difficult to forge because they're magic. The actual physical coins would be easy to forge if they were just ordinary gold or silver. If you'd like I can show you where to buy the equipment.'' In fact a group of students had once physically duplicated goblin coins with simple Charms. They wouldn't have passed any of the detection magics Wizarding merchants used, but they were good enough for Potter's 'Dumbledore's Army' to pass messages undetected.

The girl seemed to think about that. ''But Muggle money should be simple to counterfeit. It's only paper.''

''I'll bring some Muggle money to class tomorrow. You can see how they prevent counterfeiting of paper money. I'll also bring some Muggle coins, which are a lot more complicated than the goblin versions.''

That seemed to get them interested. At least they were moving a bit, trading glances and whispers with one another instead of just staring at me. ''Does that tell you what you wanted to know, Ms. Spinks?''

''Yes sir.'' Judging by the sour look on her face it really hadn't been what she wanted to hear. Oh well.

''Any other questions?''

A dozen hands went up. With the floodgates opened I spent the next half-hour answering questions about Muggle life.

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''Muggles rarely steal children, Mr. Lestrange. Kidnapping is a crime for them, just like it is for you. Besides, there are over seven billion Muggles in the world. What would they want with more kids?''

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''What Americans and Canadians call 'football' is similar to what the British game of rugby, but has heavier protective equipment. It's not as popular as hockey in Canada or baseball in the US.''

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''Hockey, not hoggy, Ms. Greengrass. It's like curling - '' Muggle and Wizarding curling were identical, probably because curling is nature's perfect sport. What other ice sport involves forty-pound stones and can be played with a drink in one hand? ''But there's only one stone, called the puck, and both teams are on the ice fighting for control of the puck at the same time.''

IOIOIOIOIOIOIOIOIOIO

''No Mr. Selwyn, Muggles do not eat witches.'' Well, not without buying them dinner first.

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Finally the questions ran out. About halfway through the class I managed to get things more or less back on topic. I stood at one of the blackboards, drawing a picture as the students told me about the typical floorplan of a Hogsmeade Wizarding home.

From what they said a Wizarding kitchen was about half the size of a Muggle kitchen. Just as I was adding that to the floorplan I heard someone mutter ''Salivespertilum!'' and a shock ran through me like a static charge. I spun around into a low defensive posture, ready to block or punch.

The kids sat frozen in their seats, some staring at me. Others stared at a boy towards the front of the class, two rows back. His eyes were starting to water in his pale face.

''You!'' I pointed. He jumped in his seat. What the heck was his name? ''Mr. Taylor, why is your hair smouldering?''

''I-I'm sorry s-s-sir.''

I remembered my posture and came up out of the defensive crouch, stepping closer to the front row. I took a closer look at Harry Taylor. As scary as it was to see his hair smoking, I couldn't actually see any sparks or flames. And it did just look like a small patch. Still, he'd managed to piss me off. ''Did I ask you if you were sorry, Mr. Taylor?''

''N-no sir.''

''What did I ask you, Mr. Taylor?''

''Why my h-h-hair is smoking, sir.''

Credit for bravery. If it had been my hair, I'd be bawling. ''And have you answered, Mr. Taylor?''

''No sir. It's b-because I t-tried to H-h-hex you, sir. I'm sorry sir.''

''Thank you for answering my question, Mr. Taylor. Because you answered my question, I am only going to dock Hufflepuff twenty-five points, instead of the usual fifty for attempting to Hex a Professor. Now, put out your hair.''

''S-sir?''

''I assume you know a basic Extinguishing Charm, Mr. Taylor.'' Was there such a thing as an Extinguishing Charm? In any case, the boy just shook his head. ''No? Does anyone here know a spell to help Mr. - Ah, yes, Ms. Wyvern. Go ahead.''

''Aqua Eructo!''

''AAAAAAH!''

Oh God. ''Yes. Well done, Ms. Wyvern. Fifteen points to Ravenclaw for helping.''

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All in all, the first class went better than I expected. With the end-of-class bell still echoing in the hallway my students slowly poured out of the room. A few stayed behind, clustering at the front of the class around Selena Spinks.

Currently the only way to tell what House a student was in was by the House badge on their robes. Galilea wanted to bring the uniforms more in line with modern clothing and introduce House ties, but the Board had dug in its heels on that. Selena Spinks was in Slytherin, as were two of her friends. The third was a Ravenclaw girl. Sister Shibley hovered behind the group, watching.

I sat on the edge of my desk. ''So, how can I help you?''

Selena Spinks had long golden-blonde hair, pale blue eyes in a narrow and very English face, and a glare that suggested she'd caught me doing something obscene. ''Asp says that you said you're in Slytherin House.''

''Sorry, who's 'Asp'?'' Hm, I probably shouldn't have mentioned that to Albus. Word seemed to have gotten around.

''Oh, uh, Albus Potter? Um, it's from his initials. His full name is Albus Severus Potter.''

''That's an interesting nickname. What does his older brother think of it?''

She looked around at her friends. ''I don't know. But that's - ''

''I wonder what his father thinks of it? Is young Mr. Potter a Parselmouth? Is that how he got the nickname?''

The girls looked absolutely shocked. After several generations of a bad rep, followed by the acts of the psychopath Tom Riddle and then his damaged fragments, asking if someone were a Parselmouth seemed to be like asking a fundamentalist Southern Baptist if they were a gay atheist.

''Asp - No - He's - '' Selena Spinks sputtered. ''Albus is not a Parselmouth! He's nice!''

''Oh, that's too bad. I was hoping someone could tell me what the Riddle ghost-fragments are saying.''

The Ravenclaw girl, Emily Brown, made a disgusted face. ''Eeew! Why would you want to know? They're horrid!''

I shrugged. ''I'm a historian, and Tom Riddle was a major figure in your history. Even if his fragments are damaged, they might know something interesting.''

''Oh.'' Emily Brown hugged herself and fell silent. I figured she was torn between fear and Ravenclaw desire. They weren't necessarily all smart, but they did all like to know things.

''Of course the Hat doesn't Sort adults. And if it did, it would be a major scandal for whatever House a Muggle were Sorted to.''

''But - ''

''All right you lot, you only have a few minutes to get to your next class. Off with you.''

I made a shooing gesture, cutting Spinks off. Her friends started to leave. She gave me one last look and turned to leave.

''Oh, and Ms. Spinks? I suggest you have a look at the Loch Hall behind the Common Room, the one with all the advice from Slytherins to Slytherins carved in the wall. Check the most recent line.''

The only way to stay at the top of the heap is if people are trying to lift you up instead of trying to pull you down. Make yourself worthy of their efforts.

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Mondays my Second Period was open. Through the rest of the year this would be a chance for me to mark papers, answer student questions, or otherwise work on school administrivia. But on the first day of classes, with no papers due and most of my students still scared of me, it was just a lot of spare time. I sat in my old-fashioned office chair, feet up on the desk, while Sister Shibley hovered nearby.

''Och, 'at went weel. In mah life a Master at Hogwarts fa coods nae cest Shieldin' Wards woods nae hae walked it ay th' room.''

''I haven't walked out of the room yet,'' I pointed out. ''Anyways, in your life people thought torturing animals was fun.''

Sister Shibley squirmed a bit, looking embarrassed. ''Aye, as main be...''

''Did I say your name properly?''

''Aye, nigh enaw. Ur ye coods say Maelduns, since yoo're nearly a Sasunnach.'' She looked at me, opened her mouth to speak, then closed it. Finally she spoke. ''Dae ye nae hink Aa'm tay auld fur thes room ay bairns?''

''You've missed a lot of classes, student.''

''Aye.''

I waited a few seconds to see if she had more to say. ''You told me that you stayed behind after the centaurs burned Saint Cyprians because you'd always wanted to stay at Hogwarts. You wanted to be a teacher. And you only took your simple vows after your family died because you couldn't go back to their farm.''

''Och aye. Aye, but... Ah micht hae gain back. Mah uncle woods hae welcomed me. Mair than welcomed me, dae ye see?''

''Ah.'' More than kin and less than kind indeed. He'd been dead for centuries. Would it be worth trying to track down his grave to piss on it, or would he be mud by now?

''But Ah nae can be a scholar haur, Professur hunter! Neither student nur teacher. Aa'm deid!''

''The Chair of Muggle Studies is allowed an assistant.''

''But there's bin nae sic' Chair since Headmaster Scamander's day! An' e'en if thaur hud bin, yoo're nae - ''

I smiled at her. She stopped.

''Yet.'' I pulled three letters out from an inside pocket of my academic robes. ''These are letters to three members of the Board of Governors. Key followers of Lucius Malfoy, a man who survived two years in Azkaban with much of his power base intact. An important ally, if we can win him over.''

''Ah min' heem. Aye followin' 'at Riddle whelp abit. Ne'er first tae stain up fur naethin.''

''Yes. Not a man to approach directly, but these letters to his followers should do the trick. Of course as a Muggle and new member of the faculty, I've not heard of the research Chairs at Hogwarts. I'm merely asking - Repeatedly, in many different ways - For resources to improve our understanding of Muggle society and technology. It's not my fault that Lucius Malfoy will suddenly find his followers bombarding him with questions about active infrared cameras, or night-vision devices, or LADAR, or high-resolution satellite imagery. Questions that he can't answer.'' I took a little packet of oat cookies - Biscuits - out of another pocket, and put the biscuits and letters in the bottom left drawer of my desk. A few seconds after I closed the door I heard a rustling sound, like rodents scurrying around in the desk. The letters would be away by owl in a matter of minutes.

It's amazing what you can get House-Elves to do for you if you just remember to leave bread and cream out at night.

''Och, 'at will be weel dain if ye can dae it. But noo whit will ye dae fur lae ay yer time?''

I waved at the stacks of Wizarding newspapers on my desk. ''Start looking for Cornfoots. I've got a year's worth of newspapers here. If the Cornfoots have done anything interesting I want to know what it was, who they did it with, when they did it, where it happened, and why.''

I sighed, staring at the stacks. ''Work like this is exactly why I turned down a job with my homeland's spy agency. People think it's all cloak and dagger stuff, but really it's gossip and research.''

''Ah can help. ghosts arenae strang, but Ah can still lift pepper.''

''Can you read Modern English?''

''Och aye. Aa've reid most aw ay th' library. There's nae sae much tae dae when yoo're deid.''

''Well, have at it, 'Prentice Shibley.''

IOIOIOIOIOIOIOIOIOIO

Third Period, the last class before the noon meal, saw me teaching Third Years. After my experience with the First Years I started the class in a cautiously optimistic mood.

The Third Years came right in, stomping and glaring and reeking of adolescence. I smiled at them and launched into my prepared speech and roll-call. Then I opened the floor to questions.

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''No Ms. Weasley, Texans are not cannibals. Yes, I'm quite sure of that. No, not even the ones with chainsaws.''

How many branches could one family tree possibly have? For God's sake someone buy the Weasleys a book of Birth Control Charms.

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''No Mr. Goyle, I'm not blind. I'm not stupid either.'' Although I was starting to have my doubts about Mr. Goyle. ''If you're going to try to Hex me, at least have the courtesy to wait until my back is turned. Fifty points from Slytherin, see me after class about detention, and for God's sake put out your robes. The smoke is irritating the other students.''

I'd have to speak to George about his Shield Charm work. The rebound effect was nice, but I couldn't keep setting fire to students. Surely a parent would complain.

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''Mr. Nott, this is a difficult class and all of your classmates are new to the subject. They are all trying their best and they all want to succeed, so if you can't think of anything helpful to say then keep your bloody mouth shut!''

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''Mr. Goyle, just because you've thrown your textbook out the window doesn't mean you don't have to read it. It just means your parents will have to buy you a new copy. Let's see, Smil's Creating the Twentieth Century costs seven Galleons at Flourish and Blotts, times seventeen...'' I did some quick math in my head and, yes, a bit on my fingers. ''One hundred and nineteen? One hundred and nineteen points from Slytherin, one point per Sickle. And see me after class about - Oh, right.''

I no longer had doubts about Mr. Goyle's intelligence.

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''I saw that, Dinah Greengrass. Twenty-five points from Gryffindor, see me after class about detention, and if you ever try to Hex Sister Shibley again then God help me I will make you eat your wand.''

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I started the class in a cautiously optimistic mood. By the end of it I'd become the Second Coming of Severus Snape.

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At Hogwarts the morning meal was called breakfast, the mid-day meal lunch, and the last meal of the day supper. A full tea with sandwiches, scones, biscuits or pastries, and of course tea, was available throughout the day for students and staff with an open period. A High Tea would be served at seven o'clock, on the off chance that you hadn't managed to cram your gullet full by then.

This lunch I sat between Galilea and Professor Lestrange. The meal today was salted herring, heavy barley bread, and pea soup with minced carrots and leeks. I wondered how the students felt about Helga Hvalpuf's authentic Northern European medieval cookery now that they weren't eating feast-foods.

''How did you find the students?'' Galilea asked me over the din from the students

''So far? The First Years are great. The Third Years are animals.'' Beside me Rebecca Lestrange laughed once, bitterly.

''You are here to tame them. In their defence, I suspect most of them act out of fear rather than true malice.''

''That was my sense. Well, it's not too bad. I've only had to threaten one student with grievous bodily harm.''

''Was that Vincent Goyle? I'm told he's earned five detentions in his first day.''

''Does that include the two I gave him?''

''Seven detentions in the first half of the first day? Mr. Goyle has set a new record for Hogwarts. We may have to issue him a Time-Turner just to serve his punishments.''

Rebecca Lestrange grunted. ''He's good at Charms.''

Galilea peered past me the Rebecca Lestrange, chief Charms Instructor. ''Didn't you also issue him a detention?''

''Didn't say he wasn't a prat.''

A loud bang! echoed through the Great Hall. Galilea and I both jumped, her reaching for the wand under her robes and me pushing my chair back. At the far end of the Great Hall Rubeus Hagrid strode through the doors he'd obviously kicked open. Conversation in the Hall died down as the leather and wool-clad half-giant marched down the centre aisle, carrying his burden.

In one hand Rubeus carried a man, holding him upside down by his legs. The man struggled to keep his robes up over his pants - Which, in the version of English I'd grown up with, meant he was wearing nothing but underwear under his robes. In the other hand Rubeus carried a bundle of kindling, and as Rubeus came closer I could see the sticks and tinder had once been a broomstick. Rubeus reached the staff table and dropped the man in front of Galilea.

''Caught this one sneakin' about th' East Wing.'' Rubeus dumped the broken broomstick on top of the man's head. Reaching into one of his pockets Rubeus pulled out a twisted lump of leather and metal. ''Had this too. Used t' be a camera. Guess I squeezed a bit too hard, yeah?''

Galilea stood and looked over the edge of the table. I stood next to her and looked at our intruder. The wizard sat on the floor picking straw and splinters out of his hair.

''This is assault it is! Assault on a member of the preee - Uuuhh...'' He slumped down to the ground, eyes rolling back in his head.

''I've always wanted to do that,'' said Galilea. ''Mr. Hagrid, was he carrying any identification that you saw?''

''Press card for th' Wizarding World Weekly.'' The big man shrugged. ''It's an alright rag, s' long as ye only buy it fer the pictures.''

The press was sneaking around the East Wing on broomsticks? I groaned. ''I'm going to have to start closing my window shutters.''

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Fourth Period, Fourth Years. First through Third Years were in my class because they had to be. Upper Years took Muggle Studies as an elective, and they were eager to learn.

Unfortunately they had also had more time to read all the bad old texts in the Hogwarts Library. Whoever had written Home Life and Social Habits of British Muggles needed a swift boot to the arse.

''Muggles do not 'use electricity' to clean their teeth. An electric toothbrush uses electricity to rotate a small brush, and they use that brush to clean their teeth. No one applies electricity directly to their mouth. Not only would doing so kill you, it would hurt the whole time you were dying.''

I noticed a few students glancing out the window. From the corner of my eye I saw something, just beyond the glass...

I looked and saw a witch, a woman about my age on a broomstick, floating just outside the window. I looked, and she saw me look, and our gazes locked, and her face fell into an expression of terror.

From behind me I heard a student gasp in shock. ''Mum?''

IOIOIOIOIOIOIOIOIOIO

I went to the Hog's Head that evening. I didn't scribble in a notebook or chuckle to myself. I spent the evening snarling at people and asking questions like 'What are you looking at, then?' and 'You got something you want to say to me, mate?'.