It's a Muggle Thing

Chapter Eleven

Stanley's P.O.V.

Muggle studies is to easy, I don’t even know why I took it. Maybe it was because it could be the only class I could pass. I mean I LIVE AROUND MUGGLES! So yeah, that was why I took that class. It’s always nice to feel like a genius because you know what a telephone is and can explain how it functions.  

    I closed the book; it was extremely boring. Fred and Starkiller were off being lovey-dovey (something they seemed to do in abundance after they “came out” to George and I), and George was somewhere working on Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes. I supposed that I could join him, but lately I felt that we had it under control. LET’S ROAM THE HALLS! I ran up to my dormitory, puts my books on my bed, and ran back out to the corridors.

    Where should I go? Didn’t feel like interrupting classes right now; I didn’t need a detention. Everyone was probably waiting for dinner, but that was about an hour and a half away.

    God, this is boring, I thought. Maybe there’s interesting people outside.

I walked onto the grass and immediately saw our group’s tree. Fred and Starkiller were there talking, and I decided to leave them alone, since my presence might bring unwanted attention to them and their secret would be discovered. Well, there’s always the Quidditch pitch. I don’t even know a damn thing about Quidditch; oh well. The only reason I could hold my own in the Beater position was because it was essentially softball, except different.

    As the pitch came into view, I saw that the Slytherins were practicing. I decided to watch them, and as I got closer, some of the Slytherins saw me. Including Malfoy, though he didn’t have the same What’s that half-blood doing here? look on his face that the rest of his fellow teammates were wearing. That was only because he and Starkiller were on good terms, so in a way we were on good terms. It’s confusing, I know. Just go with it, ok?

    “What are you doing here?” one of them sneered. “This is a Slytherin practice, and you’re a Ravenclaw.” I laughed, like that was a good enough reason to keep me away.

    “It’s a free country. I can be here if I want,” I said, crossing my arms and taking a seat in the stands. “Go ahead, keep practicing. Pretend I’m not even here.”

    “Come on,” Malfoy said, glancing at the team. “We still have an hour left here until dinner.”

    The team flew away muttering about stupid know-it-all Ravenclaws. I chuckled to myself.

    “Hey, Stanley,” Malfoy said, bringing me from my laugh. “Why are you here anyway? Shouldn’t you be with Starkiller?”

    “Well,” I began, choosing my words wisely. Starkiller would kill me if I told one of her fellow Slytherins her secret, though she was friends with Malfoy. I promised that I wouldn’t tell anyone about her and Fred; I pinky swore. That’s some serious shit. “She’s busy with homework.”

    He didn’t look convinced, but mounted his broom flew off with the rest of his team. I stayed there for the whole hour, watching them, sort of teaching myself what Quidditch was about. It was like softball, but on brooms, and much more intense. It seemed fun, but the Ravenclaw team was already full. As I walked back to the castle, I thought about it. Maybe there was another way I could be involved.

    “Where have you been all evening?” Starkiller asked, leaning on Fred’s shoulder. I admired how it was absolutely unheard of for a Slytherin and a Gryffindor to date, but they didn’t care.

    “I was watching the Slytherin Quidditch practice,” I said, cutting up some chicken. My three friends had finished their dinners and decided to watch over my shoulder as I finished mine. I was honestly surprised they hadn’t been caught yet.

Fred and George looked like they just saw a ghost at the mention of Slytherins (though Fred was on quite good terms with one, if you know what I’m saying, wink wink nudge nudge), while Starkiller looked amused. George looked like he wanted to protest, but I stopped him. “Now, before you judge me. I’m not all lovey dovey with Malfoy. I just need something to do because I finished my muggle studies homework.”

    “Well, that’s not as bad,” George said. “But why were you watching Quidditch anyway?”

    “I don’t know,” I said eating some chicken. “It looked interesting.”

    “But why didn’t you try out in the beginning of the year like the rest of us, then?” Fred asked.

    “If you had just transferred schools and only knew one person, would you try out for a sport you’ve never played before?” I asked him. He thought for a second.

    “You don’t have Quidditch in America?” he asked. I face-palmed. That’s what he got out of that?

    “Nope, we have football; which isn’t what it is over here. In America ‘football’ is called soccer. Anyways we also have volleyball, tennis, baseball for guys, and softball for girls, even though it's the same game,” I said, when he still looked confused I continued. “I mean, we know about Quidditch, we just don’t play it as a country sport and have World Cups like you guys do.”

    “Oh,” he said. “Well, you do know that Quidditch tryouts are over, right?”

    “No,” I said sarcastically.

    “Hey Stanley,” Starkiller said. I looked at her, she had barely said a thing this whole time. “You could always write articles on Quidditch. You could make your own paper or something. Then you could write articles about WWW too.”

    I grinned; that was a perfect idea. I got up from my seat on the bench and turned to them.

    “I gotta go; that was a good idea, I’ll be back later.”

    “Wait, where are you going?” Starkiller asked.

    “I’m writing a letter to Professor Anderson, asking her to send me her thoughts on Quidditch reports.” I said. When Starkiller grinned, I ran off to the Owlery.