I try my best to keep my information accurate. My main source of information for this story is, admittedly, the Harry Potter Wiki, but I have also been known to use information gleaned from the HP Lexicon, and now that Pottermore is available to the general public, I intend to integrate bits and pieces from that, as well, wherever it might be applicable.

I have heard from a number of sources that Quirrell taught Muggle Studies before moving on to Defense Against the Dark Arts, but I cannot seem to pinpoint the original source of this information; however, I'm going to assume that it is correct. I mention this in particular because I've done a fair amount of digging, and can't find where it originated.

Still…it's certainly interesting.

And may have some bearing on how this story continues. As the following chapter might showcase.

Enjoy. See you all next week.

One.

"So, young one, what do you know about Muggles?"

Sirius stood in front of the blackboard with a pointer in his hand like a fencing foil, staring at his godson as though he intended to force knowledge into him via telepathy. Harry was doing a rather effective impression of Professor Flitwick, seated on a number of books so that he could use a student's desk. He looked enthralled, and more than a little confused.

"Um…no magic?"

"Correct. Muggles cannot use magic."

Sirius had written "Facts about Muggles" on one end of the board, and "Lies about Muggles" on the other. He wrote "No magic" under the facts column. Slowly and deliberately, Harry attempted to imitate his godfather on a wide sheet of parchment, but ended up getting most of the ink onto his fingers and, somehow, his forehead.

"What about you?" Sirius directed at Remus, who was standing in one corner of the room. "What can you add to the board?"

"Generally speaking," said the young werewolf after a moment, "Muggles do not, or cannot, distinguish between true magic and superstition."

Sirius thought about this for a moment, then wrote, "Can't tell true magic from false," under the truth column. "All right, then. Anything else?"

"Live in house!" Harry shouted happily.

Sirius grinned, and wrote it under the truth column. "Very true, Harry. Many Muggles do, in fact, live in houses. Good."

Harry laughed and batted his desk with his ink-covered hands in celebration.

"They cannot see Dementors," Remus added.

Sirius raised an eyebrow and wrote it down.

"Wha'sa 'mentor?" Harry asked.

"A Dementor is what we call the creatures that guard Azkaban," Sirius said, and felt a superstitious shudder run down his spine; he recalled that his dream-self had mentioned something about staying out of prison. "That's where bad people go, so that we can keep everybody safe."

"Volly-mort?"

"…When we catch him, yes. That's where he'll go."

Harry wrote: "VOLYMORT GO BAD PEEPL PLASE" on his sheet; though it was barely recognizable as writing, Sirius grinned proudly and nodded.

"Excellent! Good work."

Remus's own smile reached his ears. He seemed equal parts amused by and proud of both Harry's attempts at studying and Sirius's attempts at schooling. He glanced cursorily at the doorway and saw Minerva McGonagall walking by. He caught her attention with a gesture, and beckoned her inside.

"Now!" Sirius said, using his pointer to gesture toward the column. He ignored his old head of house, focusing on his student. "So far, we have some things here, and they're true. These things are true about Muggles. They're real things we know."

"We know," Harry replied gravely.

"But what about lies?" Sirius gestured to the other column. "What sorts of lies do we tell about Muggles?"

"Lies bad," Harry said.

"Yes, they are," Sirius agreed. Under the lies column, Sirius wrote, "Muggles are dumb." Remus snickered, and Minerva raised a thin eyebrow. "Some people will try to tell you Muggles are dumb. Because they can't tell what magic is, and don't believe in it. This is a lie. Muggles are not dumb."

"Mugs not dumb."

"Mug-gles."

"Mug-goos."

"…Close enough. Actually, I'd like to go into using the word 'Muggle' in the first place, but I'll wait on that. Anyway! Some people will try to tell you…"

Sirius wrote down: "Muggles are weak."

"…Because bad people sometimes use magic to hurt Muggles. They think it's funny. But it's not funny. Understand, Harry? And these people, they think Muggles are weak because they can't fight back. This is a lie. Muggles are people, just like us. There are weak Muggles, there are strong Muggles. There are weak wizards, and strong wizards. Weak witches, and strong witches."

Harry mumbled under his breath as he tried laboriously to write something.

Sirius wrote down, "Muggles are inferior."

Harry made no reply to this. He looked up, then went right back to his parchment. Sirius said, "Some people will tell you, because they believe these other things, that Muggles are our servants. Or that they're animals. Or that they don't deserve the same things that we do. That's what 'inferior' means. But it's not true. Muggles are the same as we are. They just don't use magic. Just like I don't ride a broom, but you do. Does riding a broom make you better than me?"

"Yes," Harry said.

Sirius bit back a laugh, and said, "…No. It doesn't. And it doesn't make Muggles less human to not use magic. So, I don't want you listening to anybody who tries to tell you these things. Lies are bad. Remember? So don't listen to them."

"No listen."

"…Right. And while we're on the subject, don't listen to Arthur Weasley, either. He's enthusiastic, but I think he might have been hit on the head one too many times."

"Thusie-stick."

Minerva's lips curved in a smile as Remus started laughing. Sirius brandished his pointer as though he intended to challenge them both to a duel. "No laughing in my classroom. I'll have authority, or I'll have your hides."

"I see you've managed to find a way to occupy yourselves while you're here," Minerva observed, still smiling. "Bit of preliminary schooling, is it?"

Sirius set the pointer down. "I want him to know the truth. If he's going to be the heir to my house, I want to make sure he learns everything my illustrious bloodline believes in, and spits on it."

"You certainly seem to have strong opinions on the subject. Tell me, is there a specific reason for your emphasis on Muggles?"

"Point of principle. Who teaches Muggle Studies?" Sirius asked.

"Professor Quirrell," Minerva answered quietly.

"Take a guess, why don't you, about how much time he's spent around Muggles? How much time has he spent trying to understand and emulate them? How much of their culture has he studied? How much has he experienced?"

"I wouldn't venture a guess," Minerva said. "I'd say that you should ask him, if it matters as much to you as the volume of your voice would indicate."

"My point is," Sirius went on, ignoring the suggestion, "the class taught here is so fixated on teaching students about Muggles from 'a wizarding point of view' that they forget about the Muggle point of view. I won't have my godson growing up with this baseless prejudice in his head."

"It seems we've hit upon a sore spot. And you, of course, are qualified to teach him, then?"

"A fair sight more qualified than anyone here. I'd stake anything I own on it." The more Sirius spoke, the more animated he became. He held up his hands as though pushing Minerva back and said, "Example. I'll give you an example. First day I took Muggle Studies in school, I got a worksheet with an essay question on it. I still remember it. It was, 'Muggles continue to deny the existence of magic, despite all evidence to the contrary. Discuss the reason for this.' Now, in your expert opinion, how many of our people consider Muggles' denial of magic to be…ignorant, if not outright stupid?"

Minerva frowned. "A majority. I would not consider this to be a failure on their part, but ignorance? Surely."

"Is it? Muggles have been taught by centuries upon centuries of conditioning, by themselves and by us, that magic isn't real. That it's mere whimsical fancy. And we're not talking about a smattering of people believing this, like the wizarding community ignoring the existence of a Crumple-Horned Snorkack. We're talking about billions. For the love of all that's holy, what else would they possibly believe? We've been hiding our existence for hundreds of years now."

"Because Muggles cast us out of their communities out of fear."

"Human nature," Sirius muttered dismissively. "'In the land of the blind, the one-eyed man is stoned to death.' We're frightened of anything more powerful than we are. Martial magic gives any witch or wizard a huge tactical advantage over Muggles, and all it takes is one megalomaniac who decides he wants to take over a country to spoil everyone's reputation. Power corrupts. It was only a matter of time before Muggles decided we couldn't be trusted, and cast us out. We can do something they can't; something that can set them on fire and transform them into animals; something that can torture them, control their minds, kill them outright, and there's nothing they can damn well do about it. We're a dangerous minority for them. Eventually, after so many decades of us hiding our power from them because it was just easier that way, they started to think they'd dreamed up the whole thing, and we became a myth. That's not ignorance. That's a bloody coping mechanism."

Minerva studied Sirius's face for a long while. She seemed to have no answer to this. Remus, for his part, had a look of dawning comprehension on his face; though what he'd learned—either about Muggles or his best friend—was anybody's guess.

Harry was doodling on his parchment, with his fingers.

Finally, after the silence had gone on for just a bit too long, Minerva said, "…Have you ever considered teaching?"

Two.

"Do what you can with it," he said. "Read it through, and let me know what you think," he said. "It could contain vital information," he said.

So far, Severus hadn't managed to work anything out of A Mind's Last Defense except meandering metaphysics and half-poetic daydreaming. It was filled with stupid questions purposefully designed to have no answers, and general musings that were of no use to anyone.

He half-considered pawning the book off on Trelawney, thinking she would be much more likely to find some meaning in this drivel than he was, except there was something inherently…horrific about going to her for help. It felt like a most insulting, debilitating defeat.

So he continued to read and reread, parsing together references and seemingly random word choices in particular passages. Eventually, Severus realized that half his problem was that he was trying to force meaning onto the book, leaping at any conceivable reference to anything. He had no core question, no fundamental base upon which to work.

He had, of course, heard the Muggle saying about finding a needle in a haystack. This was like that, except he didn't know which haystack had the needle. Or which needle he was actually looking for.

An absolute fool's errand.

Severus left the book on his desk and left the dungeons to take a walk, presumably to clear his head. It didn't take him long to run into someone he most pointedly did not want to see, and immediately set his teeth back on edge: Remus Lupin.

The scruffy-looking man with the frayed robes smiled and gave a jaunty little half-salute. "Good afternoon, Professor," he offered jovially, and the politeness of it made Severus bristle even more; it felt like a slap in the face.

For all that he was, though, Lupin was most definitely not stupid. He knew immediately that his attempt at cordiality was not accepted. He maintained a certain professional distance when he said, "Have you been able to make any headway on the book Sirius found?"

Severus loathed admitting defeat, but he was no coward. He shook his head. "Not at the moment."

"Well, best of luck. This entire situation has taken a definite turn for the strange."

"…Indeed."

"What about Peter? I believe you were trying to work out some…alchemical remedy for his current…ah, condition?"

"His condition is unchanged," Severus said mechanically.

"I see." Lupin's face fell. "A shame, that."

Silence dropped upon them like an unexpected houseguest.

"Is there…anything else?" Severus clenched his teeth.

"Um…yes." Lupin looked embarrassed. "I wondered if you could…help me. With a…certain potion."