In the past, Muggle Studies lessons were taught through case studies: the first half of the class featured stories, and the second half explained the role of Muggle devices in those stories.
For instance, a wizard from Devon was enjoying a leisurely holiday, cooling off with a Freezing Charm. One day, he overheard his neighbor cursing up a storm and eventually learned their refrigerator had broken, spoiling all the food inside.
The conclusion? A refrigerator is a Muggle device for keeping food fresh, prone to breaking, whereas a simple Freezing Charm could solve the problem effortlessly.
It wasn't wrong, per se, but something about it felt off.
It was rote, spoon-fed teaching. These students had never even seen such devices.
The two lessons passed quickly. The students, far from rushing out, stayed hunched over their desks, furiously copying notes, their heads spinning with new information.
Melvin set down his chalk and cleared his throat. "This week's homework: choose a common Muggle appliance and draw a detailed diagram. Ensure accurate proportions, include all components, and clearly label the function of each major part. Due before next week's class."
With a leisurely air, as if unconcerned with the students' struggles, he gathered his materials and strolled out.
Not long after leaving the classroom, Melvin heard someone calling.
"Professor!"
"Sir!"
"Mr. Levent!"
He walked straight down the corridor and rounded a corner to find two students waiting, their identical red-haired heads and matching grins unmistakable.
Melvin paused, feigning confusion. "And you are?"
"I'm George Weasley."
"I'm Fred Weasley."
The twins spoke in unison, their voices indistinguishable.
"Gryffindor's twins, eh? What's this about?" Melvin studied them, trying to spot any differences.
"We're friends with Lee Jordan, and we looked through his encyclopedia. It raised some questions, so we waited here to ask you about them, Professor."
"You're heading to the Great Hall for dinner, right? So are we. Can we take a few minutes of your time to clear up our doubts?"
George and Fred's faces were full of earnest curiosity, the picture of eager, studious students.
"Talk as we walk," Melvin said.
"Long live the Professor!" the twins cheered, flanking him on either side.
"The book mentioned a metal called sodium that burns or even explodes when it touches water. Is that true?" one asked.
"Yes, it's a chemical reaction. Reactive metals like sodium react violently with water, producing hydrogen gas and an alkaline solution," Melvin replied, impressed that the twins had delved into the chemistry section of an encyclopedia.
George and Fred only registered his confirmation, ignoring the technical explanation. It wasn't important.
"The book also said there's a liquid called ammonia that smells bad, like fermented urine. Is that true?" the other asked.
"Yes…" Melvin paused, then clarified. "Ammonia is a weak alkaline solution formed when ammonia gas dissolves in water. It naturally breaks down, releasing free ammonia gas. Urine decomposes similarly, so the smells are quite alike."
The twins' eyes gleamed as they asked in unison, "So, if you mix sodium with ammonia, could you make a stink bomb that smells like urine?"
Melvin fell silent.
As they reached the Great Hall's entrance, still some distance from the staff table, he glanced up. Dumbledore, unusually present for dinner, sat at the center. McGonagall, on his right, was quietly discussing the evening's lamb with Flitwick. Catching sight of the twins beside Melvin, she raised an eyebrow.
"Thanks, Professor!"
"See you, Professor!"
George and Fred waved and dashed to the Gryffindor table, already chattering about the feasibility of their "urine stink bomb."
Melvin suddenly understood McGonagall's exasperation.
Dinner time.
Ron piled two servings of lamb onto Harry's plate, stewed with onions, carrots, tomato sauce, butter, and parsley. "Try this, mate, it's amazing!" he mumbled, mouth full. "Our kitchen at home doesn't have this many spices combined."
"You eat it. I'm not hungry," Harry sighed. "I'm wondering why Snape targeted me in our first Potions class."
"You know him from before?"
"I only learned wizards existed a month and a half ago."
"Then don't overthink it. George told me Snape's always hard on Gryffindors. He's worried we'll outscore Slytherin and snatch the House Cup."
"But why me specifically?"
"Bad luck, maybe?" Ron shrugged.
"Maybe," Harry sighed again, spooning up some lamb broth.
Hermione piped up. "You should've pre-read."
"What?"
"You should've studied Magical Herbs and Fungi beforehand. Then you could've answered his questions."
Harry was speechless, feeling drained.
That afternoon, in their first Potions class with Slytherin, Snape had zeroed in on Harry among dozens of students, firing off questions, humiliating him, and docking Gryffindor five points.
Hermione didn't seem to grasp that not everyone could memorize textbooks before term started. And even if Harry had, Snape would've found another way to make his life difficult.
The man's malice was crystal clear.
Harry sipped his broth, its warmth a small comfort. At least Hogwarts' food was leagues better than the Dursleys'.
Scrape, scrape!
The silver knives sliced through steaks, grazing ceramic plates with a faint screech. The professors at the staff table paid it no mind, enjoying their meal while discussing the first week of term.
Professor Sprout sipped her wine and turned to Melvin. "Do Muggle chemical fertilizers work on magical plants?"
Melvin, caught off guard but keeping his knife and fork moving, answered, "Some Ilvermorny professors tested it, but results were inconclusive. A few fertilizers help, but others hinder growth. Magical plants differ from ordinary ones—it's less about what nutrients they lack and more about catering to their preferences."
"Any specifics?" Sprout asked.
"I only know one case. When Bubotuber pus is at its stinkiest, adding nitrogen-rich fertilizer with a foul smell makes the plant more active and mature faster."
"Fascinating! I'll have to try it."
Dumbledore, overhearing while savoring an overly sweet mousse cake, ate with relish.
The conversation shifted to returning students, a topic the professors never tired of—endless chatter about repetitive essays or students forgetting belongings in Egypt.
"Melvin's arrival has brought new energy to Hogwarts," Flitwick said, raising his goblet.
"To Hogwarts," Melvin echoed, clinking glasses with the others.
Snape, stone-faced, only reluctantly tapped his goblet when it was raised to him, his expression dripping with disdain.