There were only two kinds of students who took Muggle Studies: those seeking an easy option to complete their minimum required number of classes, and those who envisioned a future for themselves in Wizard–Muggle relations. Three kinds, if you counted the masochists who collected classes as if they were trading cards, like Hermione and Percy Weasley.
"So, what're the lessons like?" Oleandra asked her sister, as they walked across the suspension bridge to the Astronomy Wing, after lunch in the Great Hall.
Personally, Oleandra had never quite seen the need to study Muggles. Unlike the vast majority of pure-blooded Wizards, she had actually attended a Muggle primary school, so she wasn't entirely ignorant of Wizardkind's mundane counterparts. It had been quite a while since she'd last spoken to a Muggle, though.
She found herself briefly wondering how Stacey was getting on.
"Rather dull," Daphne replied.
Oleandra wasn't asking because she was interested; she was making small talk because she was concerned about Daphne. She had barely touched her lime pudding at lunch, which Oleandra found extremely worrying, given her twin sister's love for all things lime flavoured.
Daphne was looking rather thin, almost stretched out, like too little butter scraped over too large a piece of toast, which Oleandra had at first put down to the dark magic that had forcibly altered her sister's appearance to match her true age, though it now seemed to her that Daphne simply wasn't eating enough.
…
By the time the Greengrass twins reached the Muggle Studies classroom, they found it full to bursting. Since the subject had been made compulsory even for N.E.W.T.-level students, who had grown rather used to smaller groups, the seventh-years across four Houses now found themselves about to cram into a tiny room, with more lining up behind Oleandra and Daphne.
"Oi, what's the hold-up…" a loud boy called from behind them, before quickly stammering, as he noticed Daphne's flowing green locks, "I-I-I'm so sorry, I didn't realise…!"
Daphne ignored him. "Come on, I just spotted a few free places at the front."
Oleandra and Daphne stepped out of the doorway and made their way to the front of the classroom, where they quickly realised why those particular seats had been left empty: Tracey was sitting there, and through her association with the Greengrass sisters she had been given a wide berth. Oleandra and Daphne slipped into the places on either side of her.
"Wha—," Tracey spluttered angrily, glancing from side to side as the twins sandwiched her. "I thought I told you to leave me be!"
She picked up her books, but when she went to stand and looked behind her, she found that no seats were left. Some students were forced to stand in the aisle, while those more skilled at Transfiguration had Conjured themselves desks and chairs.
With a frustrated huff, Tracey sat back down.
"Will you please listen to me, Tracey?" Oleandra said pleadingly. "I—"
Unfortunately, Oleandra never got the chance to finish her sentence, for Professors Alecto and Amycus Carrow strode through the door at the front of the classroom, the same door that led to Alecto's office. Oleandra's voice trailed off as she wondered what they had been doing together in there.
Didn't Amycus have his own class to teach?
"Good day, class!" Alecto said, beaming at the sullen faces staring back at her.
Oleandra gave her a cheeky wave, and Alecto's face fell at the sight of her grinning. She remembered all too well how the girl had cut through their forces as effortlessly as a finger through rice paper, smiling the whole time as if she were having the time of her life. In the moment before Oleandra stunned the Carrow siblings, Alecto had been sure her final hour had come.
"Erm, well, where was I?" Alecto spluttered. "Ah, yes— Muggle Studies."
Alecto's face darkened as a few sniggers reached her ears.
"Now, I am aware that some of you may hold certain misguided notions about Muggles, no doubt perpetuated by my predecessor, Professor Burbage," she continued. "Perhaps the half-bloods amongst us have a cherished Muggle parent or grandparent, and they may be inclined to think that Muggles are perfectly inoffensive."
There remained very few true pure-blooded families in the British Isles, so even those claiming to have pure Wizarding blood were likely hiding at least one or two Muggle ancestors in their genealogical trees.
"Well, let me tell you, you are wrong," Professor Carrow hissed. "Muggles are blind to the true nature of the world around them. They are like animals, groping around in the mud, still banging stones together to make fire. They are dull and unobservant, and it is this inborn stupidity, this natural aggressivity, that leads them to destroy everything around them. Mark my words: they pose a real danger to all Wizardkind—"
Professor Carrow paused mid-rant. Judging by the flicker of her eyes, she had just spotted a raised hand somewhere behind Oleandra.
"Yes, Mr Longbottom?" she said sweetly.
"Er, yeah," Neville's voice rang out. "You say Muggles are dirty, stupid and dangerous, yeah?"
Professor Carrow nodded. The Longbottoms had maintained their bloodline perfectly pure for generations, so it was clear to her that they, too, understood the dangers of consorting with Muggles. "That's exactly right, Mr Longbottom!"
She licked her lips, preparing to award Gryffindor five points for the excellent question.
"So, given that you're both dirty, stupid and dangerous, you must have quite a few Muggle ancestors, yeah?" Neville continued. "How much Muggle blood do you have, Professors?"
Alecto froze in disbelief as the classroom erupted in laughter. Seeing a faint smile forming on the Dark Lady's lips, fury washed over her. "Out, out!" she screamed, seething with rage and pointing at the door. "Get out of my classroom!"
"That's a month's worth of detention for you, Longbottom," Amycus growled. "Challenging the blood purity of teacher is a very, very grave offence…"
Neville slung his book bag over his shoulder and strode out to thunderous applause.