Applications for Muggle Life Experience Week Are Pouring In

Harry shivered during Muggle Studies.

She had a feeling something bad was going to happen, but she didn't know what.

Professor Burbage waved her wand, projecting images of a Muggle city onto the wall.

The sight of London Tower Bridge opening beneath the setting sun drew gasps of wonder from the students.

"None of this magnificence was achieved with magic!" Their reaction pleased her greatly. She swept her wand, moving on to the next picture: an airplane.

She enlarged the picture to show the students the people packed inside. "They've created a means of transportation with the same function as our flying devices, without relying on magic at all. It can even carry more people than ours."

"Professor."

A cold voice suddenly rang out from the back of the classroom. It sounded like an echo coming from every direction, making it impossible to tell where it had come from, and it interrupted Professor Burbage.

"Could you tell us what you think about the witch trials?"

In an instant, the classroom fell silent.

The witch trials were a part of history no wizard wanted to talk about.

As Professor Burbage turned around, Ravenclaw's Lisa Turpin snapped the quill she had been writing with.

The professor's gaze swept over the Slytherin section.

Not one of the handful of students there spoke. They all looked bewildered.

There was one who didn't.

But he was folding paper cranes. The previous one had been intercepted by an unknown force of magic before it reached Miss Potter and had fallen to the floor. This was his second.

"A very pointed question."

Burbage gently set down her teaching materials, her fingers brushing over an engraving in the wooden desk: the word "Mudblood," carved by a student many years ago. She had never had the heart to repair it. The mark had always reminded her that the hatred between Muggles and wizards could not be resolved overnight, and that only time could erase the pain of the past.

"Indeed, that history is like a thorn lodged between us." She seemed to be remembering, her gaze growing distant. "Many pure-blood wizards' prejudices against Muggles stem from those pyres... And that is indeed what happened. I won't defend what Muggles once did. What they did to us was truly unforgivable."

"But please remember, two Muggles can have a wizard child, just as two wizards can have a Squib. At our core, we are different branches of the same tree."

Draco raised his hand. "But if they're the same as us, how could they do something like that?"

Many of the other students had the same question.

Harry glanced back at Draco.

It was unusual enough for Draco to be in Muggle Studies, but he had actually asked a question of his own accord.

Though it wasn't a particularly good question.

"Because of fear, Mr. Malfoy." Burbage's glasses reflected the dark clouds outside the window. "When Muggles faced magic they couldn't explain, they were no calmer than we would be at the sight of a Dementor. And as for that history we shouldn't speak of... Dear, everyone makes mistakes... Oh! Right, hearing about it isn't as useful as seeing it for yourselves..."

An idea struck her, and she hurried to the lectern. A sheet of parchment unfurled on its own. "I'm going to apply to hold a Muggle Life Experience Week next week!"

The more she thought about it, the more excited she became. Before class was even due to end, she had already dashed to the door, the hem of her robes whipping up a gust of wind. "Class dismissed! Remember to fill out the application form!"

Pansy "muttered" loudly enough for everyone to hear, "Muggle life? Ha! I'd rather take care of animals than spend time with Muggles!"

Before long, Pansy was forced to eat her words.

After Muggle Studies, which she had taken specifically to be in the same elective as Draco, Pansy hurried off to her next class. But all her good spirits came to an end when she returned to the Slytherin Common Room.

Pansy pushed open the dormitory door, her black curls bouncing slightly with her hurried steps. Her cheeks were flushed with anger, and her nails dug deep into her palms. The news she had just heard in the common room had nearly driven her mad: there were only fifty places for Muggle Life Experience Week, and Draco Malfoy had signed up!

Crash!

She snatched a crystal glass from the table and hurled it against the wall. Shards flew everywhere, and a dark patch of water spread across the carpet.

"That redheaded bitch!" Pansy screamed, her voice almost piercing the air. "Harry Potter! That little bitch and her act! What gives her the right? Why does everyone revolve around her?!"

Several Slytherin girls in the dormitory exchanged glances.

Daphne Greengrass sighed and put down the Daily Prophet in her hands, while Millicent Bulstrode frowned and gently closed her Potions textbook.

"Pansy..." Daphne hesitated before finally speaking. "Could you... stop acting like this?"

Pansy whipped her head around, fixing her with a snakelike stare. "What?"

Millicent took a deep breath and mustered the courage to speak. "Every time you come back, you shout and scream in the dormitory. We've really... had enough."

Pansy's pupils contracted sharply, as though she had been slapped across the face. Her lips trembled, but her voice grew even shriller. "You're criticizing me for Potter's sake?!"

"We're not doing it for Potter!" Daphne shook her head, weariness in her voice. "It's just... you've been getting more and more out of hand lately. We only want to rest in peace."

Pansy's chest heaved. She sneered, sweeping her gaze over each of them. "Fine, tell me. What did Potter use to buy you off? Did she have her little follower Weasley bring you sweets? Or-"

"Enough!" Millicent stood up, raising her voice unusually high, almost screaming.

After she spoke, the dormitory fell silent.

Daphne and the other two girls got up and silently gathered their things. Pansy stood there, stunned, watching them. She didn't understand what she had done wrong. She had only wanted to vent her feelings. Was that wrong?

"Pansy," Daphne said as she reached the door. She looked back at her, and there was no longer fear in her eyes, only disappointment. "We really did... want to be your friends."

The door closed.

Pansy stood there, the only sound in her ears her own breathing. She looked down at the shards of glass on the floor and suddenly felt something catch in her throat, sour and astringent.

She opened her mouth to call them back, only to find that she couldn't make a sound.

In the end, as though raging in helpless fury, she threw all her belongings in the dormitory onto the floor, until she was exhausted.

Clenching her teeth, she forced out each word as though squeezing it from her throat. "Harry Potter! This is all your fault! I'll never let you get away with this. Just you wait!"