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Chapter 332: Professor Bubagi and Muggle Studies
In the afternoon, Wade and the others had their first class of the day: Muggle Studies.
This subject had never been particularly popular among students. Most wizards weren’t willing to spend time learning about another group in the world, and many even thought the school shouldn’t offer such a class at all. Meanwhile, Muggle-born students often felt no need to take it—some of the textbook content even made them feel offended.
Listen to it—Muggle Studies…
It sounded like Muggles were nothing more than mindless wild animals.
But last term, Professor Abigail’s course had changed many minds. Students began to realize that Muggles weren’t as pitiful, weak, or foolish as they’d once believed. As a result, enrollment in the class had skyrocketed—surprisingly, even a few Slytherins had signed up.
Professor Keridy Bubagi, the instructor, was thrilled. With golden hair and a warm smile, she watched her students file into the classroom and clapped her hands together.
“Welcome—welcome, my dear children! Welcome to my class!” she beamed. “This is the first time we’ve had so many students choose Muggle Studies! Let me see… up to twenty-eight! I’m truly delighted that so many young wizards are eager to learn about Muggles!”
She continued, her voice bright and earnest:
“I know some of you may have been told wrong things before—perhaps someone whispered that Muggles are foolish and contemptible. But that’s not true. Among Muggles, there are brilliant minds, noble souls, and courageous hearts.”
“Maybe you were told that Muggles are cruel and obsessed with violence, that wizards have suffered under their oppression. That’s also false. Muggles, like wizards, contain both good and evil.”
“Muggles and wizards aren’t so different. We should respect them, treat them as equals. And doing so? It benefits us all.”
Professor Bubagi spoke with passion, but in the classroom, one student sneered in quiet contempt.
“I made a mistake choosing this class,” Mileson muttered to the student beside her. “What is this professor even talking about? Muggles don’t even know magic exists—they’re laughably ignorant. How could they possibly be like us?”
Her companion nodded in agreement. “I’m here to learn about terrifying weapons. Who cares how Muggles live at home?”
The textbook for the class was The Family Life and Social Habits of Muggles in Britain. Mileson flipped through it carelessly. The colorful pages showed images of driver’s licenses, electric lights, washing machines, televisions, and cars—no guns in sight. She snorted disdainfully.
“Now,” Professor Bubagi announced, “let’s turn to page five. We’ll begin by learning how Muggles form families.”
A rustle of pages filled the room—except for a few students, who remained utterly still. Their irritation was written plainly on their faces. But Professor Bubagi didn’t notice. She was carefully unfolding several sheets of paper, enlarging them, and taping them to the blackboard so everyone could see clearly.
“Family begins with love—specifically, a marriage filled with affection. If Muggles want to marry, they don’t just hold a ceremony. They must register with the government.”
“These are the documents they submit: birth certificates, driver’s licenses, utility bills. Foreign Muggles also need to provide a passport. After registration, the government issues a marriage certificate.”
“Homes and marriage are the foundations of family. I truly hope that in the future, more wizards will marry Muggles, or even werewolves. That way, we’d understand each other better—and war between our worlds would become far less likely.”
“Gah—”
Just as Professor Bubagi was warming to her topic, a sharp, grating sound pierced the air.
Mileson deliberately slammed her chair back and stood up slowly, her expression cold. Professor Bubagi blinked in surprise.
“Professor,” Mileson said flatly, “I’m not feeling well. Can I be excused?”
She looked perfectly fine.
Professor Bubagi hesitated. “O-Of course… yes… all right…”
Before she could finish, five more students stood up in unison.
“Professor, I’m not feeling well either.”
“My stomach hurts.”
“I need to go to the restroom.”
“I think I’m going to be sick… hearing about werewolves is making me nauseous.”
They offered flimsy excuses, gathered their things without waiting for permission, and followed Mileson out the door—abandoning their textbooks behind them.
The remaining students stared at their retreating backs. One or two looked tempted—but when they glanced at Professor Bubagi, they stayed seated.
The professor stood frozen, utterly unprepared for such a mass departure. Her hands trembled slightly as she watched nearly half her class leave in under ten minutes.
“Professor?”
Hermione, sitting at the front, raised her hand. Professor Bubagi looked at her with wide, worried eyes.
“Granger… are you unwell too?”
“No,” Hermione said firmly, though her voice was tired. “We should continue the lesson.”
There was quiet strength in her eyes—enough to steady the professor.
“Y-Yes… yes, of course,” Bubagi stammered. “Let’s look at this image… this is a driver’s license. Muggles must undergo complex training and pass an exam before they’re allowed to drive…”
She fumbled through the explanation, stumbling for several minutes before regaining her rhythm.
She clearly knew more about Muggle life than most wizards—even had lived among them for a time. But her lecture was dry, mechanical, and focused on mundane details. It was only slightly less dull than Professor Binns’ ghostly ramblings.
“Honestly,” Michael whispered to Wade, “I’d love to leave too.”
“I finished reading this book over the summer. Aside from the section on electricity, it’s like the authors think we’re idiots. My mom’s a Muggle—she thought it was a joke book!”
He lowered his voice further. “Wade, you know Muggles better than anyone. Don’t you find this boring? What if we apply to drop this class after class? Just walk away from it?”
Though course applications had already been submitted last term, students still had a second chance to choose during the first week of term. And after completing a full year, fourth-years could even reselect their classes—dropping old ones or signing up for new ones.
Wade, however, found the class just as uninteresting as Michael did. But he couldn’t afford to drop it—without taking every course, the Time-Turner would never be his.
He shook his head. “If you want to drop it, go ahead and apply. But I’m staying.”
Michael glanced at him, his gaze flickering to the golden chain suddenly visible around Wade’s neck.
(End of Chapter)
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