3 November, 1893 — Muggle Studies Classroom

Merlin help him.

The whole school had taken one day off classes, and Muggle Studies specifically had taken one day longer — whether that was ostensibly for the students to mourn their professor or just literally for Ben to get his shit together was anyone's guess. It had not been a sufficient amount of time to get his shit together. He had no idea what he was doing. He'd gotten into the classroom early and written his name on the chalkboard, then sat there drinking coffee and meditating on how bizarre that looked and eventually erased it. The classroom had been only partially sanitized of Professor Pembroke's things — Ben had spent part of yesterday boxing up the odds and ends from his desk and delivering them to the Deputy Headmaster to be sorted to and shipped off to his family, but the larger items in the classroom still remained, shoved vaguely towards the back of the room.

The first students that arrived hovered awkwardly around the door until Ben noticed them and waved them in. This was it, he supposed.

"Um, right. So — I'm Reuben Crouch and I'm the flight coach," he started, when the students had taken their seats — only to be interrupted by one of them who tentatively raised a hand and pointed out that class had not, technically, started yet. Ben checked his pocketwatch and discovered she was right. Well. Off to a great start. He put his hands in his pockets and leaned on the front of the desk.

Three and a half minutes later, with more students at the desks, Ben took one last sip of his (now cold) coffee and tried again. "Hello, everyone. For those of you who haven't met me I'm Coach Crouch, and I'm going to be filling in for —"

You could not fill in for someone who was dead, could you? It wasn't as though he was coming back.

"— I'm going to teach —"

(teach was perhaps a strong word)

"— Muggle Studies, until Headmaster Black finds a replacement for Professor Pembroke. So — hopefully only a week or two, but we'll see. Uhm. So first things first," Ben said, pushing himself off the front of the desk and moving around so that he could see the piece of note paper he'd left on top of it. "I, ahm, I understand you each had an assignment due November 6th, from Professor Pembroke. In light of recent events we'll consider that paper optional. If you've already done the assignment and would like to turn it in as scheduled it'll be for additional credit. Not turning it in won't affect your grades one way or another. So, uhm, any questions about that before we get started?"

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OWL LEVEL. Invitational: Wren Burroughs Anne Moony Cordelia Best Draconia Yarwood (these are the only ones I saw on the spreadsheet but obvs open to anyone who takes it)

  

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MJ made this <3

It was a shock to lose Professor Pembroke, young as he was. Couldn't it have been Headmaster Black? Now, Connie didn't actively wish the man's death, but it just felt unfair that those kind and just like Professor Pembroke died before the vile and unpleasant ones like Headmaster Black.

As a result of their professor's untimely death, the new flight instructor would be covering for him. Connie doubted this would be the case if the class was Potions, or Transfiguration. But because this was Muggle Studies, and the likes of Headmaster Black didn't take it seriously, they could have made a House Elf teach the class before the replacement was found.

At least Coach Crouch seemed cool.

That being said, this wouldn't make Connie not ask the uncomfortable questions: "What's your muggle experience, sir? Surely you must know a lot about them to have picked you, compared to even Professor Elderberry who's muggleborn! Do you know how to use muggle items with electricity in them?"

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   Elisabeth Champagne

Wren was still in a little bit of shock that Professor Pembroke was really and truly dead. Of course, she had been one of the few students present to witness the body, but that didn't mean it felt any less strange to be watching the strange man in their classroom. The one who was apparently the new flight instructor. She wondered how he was qualified to teach Muggle Studies.

She covered her face when Connie asked Coach Crouch the question, mostly to hide the slightly irrational giggle that would've come out otherwise. She wasn't quite sure if he was the strict type of Professor. Or instructor, maybe, was the better title at this point. Mostly he just seemed uncomfortable, which was fine because that was how Wren felt, too.

She had a similar thought. Maybe all of the other Professors were too busy. Coach Crouch just had to worry about Quidditch and flying stuff. That was probably a little less stressful than the other subjects. Unless the first years were particularly awful at flying this year.

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Thank you so much, Bee!

Ben frowned. He'd meant questions on the assignment. Perhaps he should have specified. He'd thought third, fourth, and fifth years would be slightly more focused than the new students in his flying class, but perhaps that was the wrong assumption to make. Less experience than Professor Pembroke and more than you, he might have said; it was accurate and probably the only thing Headmaster Black cared about at the moment, but probably wouldn't come across as very professional. Neither would telling them that he'd once been arrested by Muggles in Portugal and probably had more experience in the area of Portuguese prisons than Professor Pembroke.

He shifted awkwardly on his feet. "Like I said, this is a very temporary thing. Just until they hire a replacement for Professor Pembroke. But, uh, I did spend a good deal of time in Muggle communities while I was traveling, so that's mostly my experience. America and Canada."

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MJ made this <3

"Bloody hell." Considering she'd just come from Etiquette, it seemed the only reasonable response. It took a slight shove from a classmate to dislodge Anne from the doorway. Ruben Crouch, one of the few people with a life chaotic enough Anne had heard of him, was standing at the front of her classroom. Anne owed someone a sickle now; she hadn't believed the news. Finding out one teacher fell to his death was frightening (And Anne had half considered dragging Millie with her to investigate). Finding out Ruben Crouch was her professor and soon-to-be referee was incredible.

Anne's face just recovering from bemusement, she shot a look at the chattiest of the Hufflepuffs. The girl had a point; Crouches were purebloods, but that was irrelevant if he could give them good stories this term. And the third year was wasting time on pointless questions. Anne still had memories of the first eight years of life, around muggles often. Electricity wouldn't help her in any way at Hogwarts. "Did you ever see muggles duel?" She already knew muggles didn't have Quidditch and that did make her pity them a bit.

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MJ about made me cry with this one!
Thread Log | Help Anne Blame the DJ

Wren became a touch more serious when Coach Crouch frowned. Had they offended him? If so, would he take house points, or otherwise become frustrated with the class. She stopped every thought of laughter and adjusted her posture. Even if Coach Crouch wasn't a Muggleborn, he seemed to have experience. Wren wondered how different American and Canadian muggles were from the ones here.

She turned towards the fourth year with a bit of a shocked look on her face. Muggles didn't duel, did they? How could they, if they didn't have wands? She didn't want to look foolish, though, so she kept her mouth shut.

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Thank you so much, Bee!

When he'd seen the hand from Miss Moony he had been hopeful that the question would get them back on track, but he didn't know why he'd thought that. Maybe just that he recognized her from Quidditch practices and was thinking a familiar face was a friendly face. Her question absolutely didn't get them back on track, though, and Ben's face lost a touch of color. His first (entirely irrational) thought was that someone who knew about his duel with Macmillan had put her up to this, to put him on the spot — get him to say something incriminating and lose the job before he'd even been here a month.

"I have not," he said definitively, but then he wondered if some students would see his answer as a lack of experience rather than an affirmation of his good character, so he added before he'd had a chance to think it through: "Muggles don't duel for fun or in tournaments, when they duel they mostly end up dead."

Then he realized that he'd started talking about death to a room full of students whose last professor was not yet buried, and mentally kicked himself. By the end of class he was probably going to end up escorting another inconsolable girl to the hospital wing for a calming draught.

"Anyway!" he said, clapping his hands together to prevent any further questions. "If no one has questions about the assignment let's move on to the topic for the day. Over on this table there's a collection of books, articles, and short stories written by Muggles about magic. Or what they think is magic. The exercise for today is to read through one and determine whether what they're describing is the work of a witch or wizard, a magical creature, or was more likely another Muggle." The selection of resources was fully the work of the school librarian; Ben hadn't read most of them himself. He probably owed her a drink, if she drank.

"You can work alone or in small groups," he continued. "And flag me down if you have questions." (About the assignment, about the assignment, about the assignment.)

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   Anne Moony, Jessamine Parkinson

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MJ made this <3

Professor Pembroke was dead.

Death was part of life, of course. Goodness knew the Ravenclaw was aware of this—she grew up on a farm, after all, had claimed the life of a chicken with her own hands. She knew, too, that many of the students at Hogwarts had lost loved ones in varying tragedies, not least of which was the incident with the dragons just a few weeks previous. Cora, though, was fortunate. Death had existed as a fact of life to her, rather than a force with which she was in conflict, something that affected her personally.

Until now.

She had liked Professor Pembroke. He had been a kind instructor, one that did not seem to mind that she was quiet. Muggle studies had been a class she genuinely looked forward to, a haven of familiarity in a world of the fantastical. And now a key component of that was gone.

Cordelia Best now knew someone dead.

Though apt to give everyone the benefit of the doubt, the Ravenclaw entered the familiar classroom that now felt ailen, filled to the brim with trepidation. Her heart sank when she saw the wizard poised at the front of the room: the new school referee. Cora took her customary seat instead of turning on her heel and fleeing the scene.

Miss Yarwood asked the question Cora had been thinking—or might have been thinking, were it not for a building roar in her ears. She vaguely registered a curse from one of the other girls in the class.

When the professor asked if they had any questions, it ocurred to Cora that she ought to ask something, but she couldn't quite think what, and her tongue felt very strange in her mouth, and—

—and she fainted.

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   Anne Moony, Jessamine Parkinson

Anne huffed as she sank back into her seat. What a disappointment to learn that muggles didn't duel for honor. Anne had thought it rather romantic, at least until Crouch ruined it. She grumbled, scratching the assignment details into her notes before a distinct thunk! and a blur of falling curls as Best went out cold.

Quick to her feet, and knocking her quill pen flying, Anne paused on the way to her wand. "Wait, how do muggles wake people, Coach Crouch?" Anne was sincerely hoping that meant splashing her classmate with enchanted water.

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MJ about made me cry with this one!
Thread Log | Help Anne Blame the DJ

Ah, fuck. Ben didn't notice anything particular about the girl until she was already sliding out of her seat, though probably if he had known her or been paying attention there would have been signs before she fainted. Miss Moony reacted before he did, and Ben sprung towards the pair of them, ostensibly to help Miss (who was this? He didn't even know) but really more to prevent Miss Moony from "helpfully" making everything worse.

"We're not Muggles, Miss Moony," he snapped, probably a little more harshly than was necessary — his frayed nerves were showing. "I'll take her to the hospital wing. All of you stay put and pick a book."

Without giving anyone room to protest or question him, Ben scooped the unconscious Ravenclaw into his arms and left the room. It would not occur to him until he was halfway to the hospital wing to wonder if leaving a room full of students together unsupervised was the done thing or not. But what would they do, fire him from the Muggle Studies position he'd never been hired for in the first place?

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Anne Moony Draconia Yarwood Wren Burroughs We can wrap the thread here, or if you want to get into ~shenanigans feel free and Ben will return eventually <3

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MJ made this <3

How dramatic - Miss Best had fainted. Connie watched as their new "professor" took the girl to the hospital wing and after he'd been gone for a solid one minute, Connie felt the liberty to stand from her desk and walk to his with a huge grin on her face. Looking towards her friends in the classroom, she addressed them:

"Hello everyone. I'm now the new Muggle Studies professor, because the board of governors has such little regard for this subject, that they'll select anyone to teach it!"

A bit bold of her, but the class was a small one and she was on friendly terms with most everyone in the room. Plus, it got a few laughs.

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Wren heard a thump from nearby and realized that Miss Best had slumped out of her seat. Her heart thumped rapidly in her ears. What if Miss Best had died as well? What if the whole Muggle Studies class was cursed now? Professor Pembroke wouldn't be a vengeful ghost, would he? Unless someone had caused his death and he was seeking vengeance! She craned her neck, too scared to look at another potential death.

Thankfully, it seemed Miss Best was only unconscious, not dead. While still frightening, it made Wren think less of a curse and more that Miss Best was currently feeling emotional. Which understandable, given the circumstances that the class had recently been exposed to. It made sense that Coach Crouch would take her to the Hospital Wing, just in case. She did hope that Miss Best wasn't cursed. She seemed nice.

Wren watched Connie step up to the front of the classroom and giggled as she spoke. Wren put her hand in the air, playing along. "Professor Yarwood, how do Muggles learn if they don't go to Hogwarts?"

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Thank you so much, Bee!

Anne was rather forgiving of Coach Crouch's snap in her direction. To be fair, she was looking for an excuse to use her wand in Muggle Studies and Miss Best wasn't really a person Anne felt the need to magically slap. Best was usually a practical, likable person; maybe she didn't deserve to wake up on the floor of a classroom with a splitting headache and soaked to the bone.

Adrenaline buzzing, Anne didn't bother going back to her seat. It wasn't like she was going to sit still anyhow. She was picking through the provided muggle books when the Yarwood girl stepped too far out of line. "Oi, Yarwood. Even the Governors wouldn't have picked you. Leave Coach Crouch alone and get to work. And you," Anne turned her glare to Miss Burroughs, "don't go encouraging her. Muggles go to muggle schools. Obviously." Anne's bossy attempt at classroom control ended with a hard eyeroll. Honestly, weren't Hufflepuffs meant to have some sense?

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MJ about made me cry with this one!
Thread Log | Help Anne Blame the DJ

Connie was beaming and she would have played along and answered Wren’s question hadn’t Miss Moony annoyingly jumped in.

She was annoyed that the Slytherin didn’t seem to grasp that her jab was at the board of governors and not on Coach Crouch. It wasn’t his fault he was unqualified and that they had picked him as the temporary replacement professor, that Connie agreed on. That still didn’t make it okay that they went with the first random person to teach the class. Muggle studies was important.

“Did the board of governors pick you as a prefect and you feel like you get to tell us what to do?” Connie shot at the Slytherin. “I-“ Connie started as she pushed herself to sit on the desk and with her feet dangling playfully she finished: “will do whatever I like.”

  

Wren had been having fun. It was nice to not think about the late professor, especially since she was one of the students unlucky enough to discover the body. She'd heard one of the girls had been pulled out of school. She would have to ask Elliot about that when she got the chance, since he was a first year as well. He probably knew something, even if he was a boy. When the Slytherin girl scolded them, her face burned with shame.

It was just a little bit of fun. Wren certainly hadn't meant to be rude to Coach Crouch, even if it might have seemed that way. She did think it was a little silly to have a Quidditch coach as a Muggle Studies professor, but she'd be nice to him anyways. It wasn't like they could just bring back the late professor in his place, and she would rather have someone teaching the subject, even if she didn't yet understand Coach Crouch.

"What are they called?" Wren asked Miss Moony, genuinely. "Magical schools have names. What are the names of the muggle schools?"

That was slightly more on topic. And she'd know that muggles had schools, obviously! Just not really what they were for if not for magic. For building things, maybe? For writing at least, she assumed that Muggle and magical schools had that in common.

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Thank you so much, Bee!

Given the sort of shit he'd gotten up to when he had been a Hogwarts student, it really shouldn't have surprised him to return to the classroom and find that no one seemed to have done anything he'd asked. It was still discouraging, though, because it gave him more to do that he wasn't sure how to handle.

"Sit down, Miss," he said to the girl at the front of the class — he didn't know her name, but recognized her as the one who had asked whether he had any experience, so assumed he'd become quite familiar with her name soon enough. A troublemaker, Ben thought grimly, though without any malice — he had been a troublemaker, too, once upon a time.

She looked about to protest — maybe not to actively go against him, but at least to defend herself, that sly sort of protest that kids try to pull sometimes to weaponize their innocence — but Ben shut her down wearily with: "Any further disruptions will cost you five house points."

And now he was that teacher, threatening to take house points in order to keep the kids from misbehaving. Merlin, he wasn't cut out for this.

"Books, all of you," he said grimly, before fleeing to his mug of cold coffee and wishing desperately it were something stronger.

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   Anne Moony

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MJ made this <3