"But he was in the Potions room, ma'am!" James insisted. "He broke some vials! They must still be there. And he broke in through a window not far from there. I saw it. The ghost led me there."
McGonagall studied James carefully. "Mr. Potter, I believe that you saw someone, but the likelihood of that person actually having broken onto the school grounds from outside is extremely small. You are aware that Hogwarts is protected by the best security measures and Anti-Magic spells available. No witch or wizard, regardless of their skills, can possibly get into these halls unless they are supposed to be here."
"That's just it, ma'am," James said earnestly. "I don't think he was a wizard. I think he was a Muggle!"
He'd expected gasps of surprise from the Headmistress and Filch, but there were none. The Headmistress merely gazed at him, her expression unchanging. Filch glanced from her to James and back, then let out his breath in a nasty little laugh.
"You've got to hand it to 'em, Headmistress. They get a little more creative every year."
"James," McGonagall said, her voice softer, "the unplottable nature of the school, as well as the innumerable Disillusionment Charms that blanket the grounds, make it truly impossible for any Muggle, no matter how persistent, to ever find their way in. You know that, don't you?"
James sighed and tried not to roll his eyes. "Yes. But that doesn't change what I saw. It was a Muggle, ma'am. He used a crowbar. And a penlight. Not a wand."
McGonagall read his face for a long moment, and then turned businesslike. "Well, Mr. Potter, if you are correct, then we have a situation on our hands that certainly needs remedying. You may trust that we will look into the matter. However, in the meantime, there is still the issue of breaking curfew, as well as the damaged window. Under the circumstances, I won't blame you for the latter, but you must still face the consequences for the former. You will serve two hours of detention with Mr. Filch this Saturday night."
"But--" James began, then Filch's hand descended heavily onto his shoulder.
"I'll take care of the lad, Headmistress," he growled. "It's not too late to save 'em when you catch 'em early. Is it, young lad?"
"Potter," McGonagall said, apparently having already moved on to other matters, "take Mr. Filch up to the Potions closet and the other broken window, won't you? Let's try to get things cleaned up before classes if we can. Good morning, gentlemen."
James stood miserably and Filch guided him to the door with the great, callused hand on his shoulder.
"Come along, my lad. We've got mischief to rectify, haven't we?"
On the way out, James saw that one of the headmaster portraits was not sleeping. The eyes of that headmaster were black, like the lanky hair that framed the white face. Severus Snape studied James coldly, only his eyes moving to follow as Filch marched him from the room.
Tina Curry, the Muggle Studies Professor, led the class briskly out onto the lawn. The day which had started rather brightly was now turning grey and blustery. Gusts of wind sprang up and flapped the edges of Professor Curry's sport cloak and the nets Hagrid was trying to hang on the wooden frame he had just finished assembling.
"Expertly done, Hagrid," Curry called as she approached, the class trotting to keep up. "Sturdy as a barn, I daresay."
Hagrid looked up, losing his grasp on the netting as he did so and scrambling to catch it. "Thank yeh, Ms. Curry. Weren't what yeh might call a challenge. Up to this part, o' course, which is a might hairy."
Hagrid's construction was a simple wooden framework, roughly rectangular. There was another one several dozen yards away, its netting strung taut and swishing in the stiffening breeze.
"Curry's new this year, if you haven't guessed," Ted commented to James as they gathered. "Has some pretty crazy ideas about how to learn about Muggles. Makes a fellow wish he hadn't pushed off taking this class until his last year."
"As if these outfits weren't bad enough," Damien said sourly, glancing down at his shorts and socks. Every Thursday, Muggle Studies class was required to dress out in shorts, athletic shoes, and one of two colors of Hogwarts jerseys. Half the class was wearing burgundy, the other half, gold.
"You wouldn't look quite so, er, interesting, Damien, if you had some white socks," Sabrina said as diplomatically as she could.
Damien gave her a tell-me-something-I-don't-know look. "Thanks, sweetie. Tell my mum that next time she goes shopping at Sears and bloody Roe-mart"
Zane didn't bother to correct Damien. He beamed with annoying good cheer, obviously far more comfortable in the outfit than the rest. "I have a good feeling about this. The breeze will air some of you vampires out. Lighten up."
Damien hooked a thumb toward Zane. "Why is he even in this class?"
"He's right, Damien," Ted said good-naturedly. "Shake out the old batwings a bit, why don't you?"
"All right, class," Curry called, clapping her hands for attention. "Let's look orderly, shall we? Form two lines, please. Burgundy over here, gold over there. That's very nice."
As the lines formed, Professor Curry produced a long basket from under her arm. She paced to the head of the burgundy line. "Wands out," she called. Each student produced his or her wand and held them at the ready, some of the first years glancing around to see if they were holding theirs correctly. James saw Zane sneak a peek at Ted, then swap his wand from his right hand to his left.
"Excellent," Curry said, holding the basket out. "In here, then, please." She began to pace along the line, watching the students reluctantly drop their wands into the basket. There was a mass groan throughout the gathered students. "You all surely can tell your wands apart, I expect. Come, come, if we are to learn anything about the Muggle world, we must learn how to think non-magically. That means, of course, no wands. Thank you, Mr. Metzker. Mr. Lupin. Ms. Hildegard. And you, Ms. McMillan. Thank you. Now. Is that everyone?"
A very unenthusiastic noise of assent came from the students.
"Hup, hup, students," Curry chirped as she laid the basket of wands next to Hagrid's framework. "Are you implying that you are so dependent upon magic that you are unable to play a simple, a very simple game? Hmm?" She glanced around at the students, her sharp nose pointed slightly upwards. "I should hope not. But before we begin, let us have a bit of discussion about why it is important for us to study the ways and means of the Muggle world. Anyone?"
James avoided Curry's eyes as she looked from student to student. There was silence but for the gusting wind in the nearby trees and the flap of the banners over the castle.
"We learn about Muggles so that we will not forget the fact that, despite our myriad differences, we are all human," Curry said crisply and emphatically. "When we forget our essential similarities, we forget how to get along, and that cannot but lead to prejudice, discrimination, and eventually, conflict." She allowed the echo of her words to diminish, and then brightened. "Besides, the non-magical nature of our Muggle friends has forced them to be inventive in ways that the magical world has never achieved. The result, students, are games so simple and elegant that they require no broomsticks, no enchanted Snitches, no flying Bludgers. The only things necessary are two nets," she indicated Hagrid's new structures with a sweep of her left arm, then held something else aloft with her right, "and one single ball."