Muggle Studies: Lesson 2 (All Years)

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Once again, Blake was seated on his desk, wand held loosely in hand in what appeared to be a casual manner. It was, for all intents and purposes; Blake did not need to hold it firmly to cast a spell. In fact, he did not need it at all, but it helped, sometimes. He wasn't expecting anything to happen, but his training and his purpose for being in Hogwarts did not escape him for a second, and it never hurt to be prepared. It hurt to be overprepared, yes, but never to be just prepared enough.

With Andi there -- even if she was Savannah -- he felt a sense of calmness that wasn't there before. He trusted Jake, yes, but he trusted Andi so much more. He had, after all, worked with the witch for years and knew all her little tells while on the field as well as she knew his.

Pushing aside thoughts of her for now, Blake focused on the lesson at hand. In one corner of the room, protected by a magical barrier that could not be penetrated easily was a single cauldron. What was inside couldn't be seen, and nobody would be able to get close enough to see it, either. It was merely there, for now, for theatrics; hopefully, it would serve to excite the students. Merlin knew lectures were boring enough.

On the board behind him was a very simple 'Identification'. At each seat, on the table, was a set of items, one set per student. It composed of a few sheets of paper, an ink pad, and a packet of a single wet tissue. It was tied together by a ribbon that was charmed to not come undone until Blake wanted it to, meaning the students could look but not use any of the objects.

All that was left was for them to arrive.

Guest

The previous Muggle Studies class wasn't as bad as Stephanie expected it to be. Sure, she felt rather awkward and out of place but that was to be expected when in a new environment. Right? She had to admit that the photography class had been interesting, though she would never say it out loud for anyone to hear. She had been debating whether or not to come to this class. Her friends had somewhat abandoned her and she wasn't sure if she liked the lack of company at all. She was so used to being surrounded by her posse that she was in shock when she found herself alone. Attending yet another Muggle Studies class would seal that fate.

But perhaps that was the reason why she found herself staring at the classroom door. She had nothing to lose by being here, right? She already had no friends, why not learn about the world that was such a central part of the Wizarding Wars? What about it was worth so many lived dying?

With a small sigh, Stephanie walked into the room, gave a smile and nod at the professor before seating herself by the window. Glancing at the table, she noted that there was paper - not parchment, but paper - some colourful thing that was apparently some sort of ink, and...wet tissue? Looking around the room, she saw that there was a cauldron situated in one corner though she had no idea what it contained and why there was only one. It seemed that all of these items had to do with "Identification". She frowned. She knew who she was, didn't she? She was Stephanie Richardson, youngest daughter of one of the most influential and powerful families in the Pureblood world. But wasn't that part of why she was here? To find out more about herself beyond being a Richardson?

She slumped her chin onto her palm and let out another sigh. What was wrong with her?

Guest

Joshua found himself enjoying muggle studies much more than he'd originally thought he would. The intention for attending this class was for it to be an easy A; a way to get through the year doing as little work as possible, and yet here he was writing extra assignments just for the hell of it. Last class, Joshua'd entered the room on the IKEA chair that he had made for Defense Against The Dark Arts. Instead of freaking out or scolding him, the new teacher had assigned him a research paper on the history of IKEA.

"Here you go," he said, dropping a stapled together packet of parchment on the professor's desk. The paper itself wasn't long, but Joshua's handwriting was about as big as some other things.

Writing the paper hadn't been tedious, as he'd actually enjoyed learning some of the things that he had researched. Apparently, IKEA is a cult and the entire world is doomed to their wrath. But they make great chairs, so Joshua would follow their leadership any day.

"Identification," Joshua repeated the words on the born. "I spiritually identify as an IKEA chair," he said, only half-jokingly.

(OOC: I am beating this chair thing to death. Sorrynotsorry)

Guest

Julienne liked Muggle Studies. The environment was very calm and slow-moving, except when it wasn't. Last class, an older Hufflepuff had come into class on a chair and he'd proposed to another student. Immediately after this, the Hufflepuff began to spew puss. The commotion was vast, but commotion made it so Julienne could hide amongst the crowd in silence. Calm or commotion; there was no in between.

Today, Julienne walked to the classroom to see one word on the board,
"Identification."

The word sent a shiver up her spine and into her heart, planting roots and crushing her until she was nothing but a crumb of a human being. What was her identity? She was a monster. She was inconvenient. She was a terrible daughter and an incapable friend. She was so many terrible things and so few magnificent things all at the same time and she hoped to the heavens that perhaps the lesson would turn into a different direction and she would not have to focus on herself at all.

She chose a seat at the back of the room. On the table were what appeared to be art supplies.

'Art,' she thought, smiling silently. Art would be okay maybe.

Guest

Muggle Studies for Sophie was very easy. Having grown up in that world for eleven years, she wasn't a stranger to its ways and methods. It wasn't mandatory for her to attend the class, but the professor was fun, and it was an extra grade for her. It was probably the class she worked the least for just because she already knew about the things they covered.

She entered the classroom with a smile on her face. "G'day Professor Blake," she greeted before taking a seat in the middle of the second row and setting down her bag. She glanced at the ink pad, paper, and wet tissue, an idea forming in her mind of what they would be doing today. The word written on the board sealed her guess. Fingerprinting. That had to be the only explanation unless there was some other connection between 'identification' and ink pads.

The only thing she couldn't figure out was what the cauldron was for.

Guest

[[IMPORTANT OOC: As I started this class a little later than I should've, from THIS post to the NEXT post ONLY, I give you permission to state that your character entered class BEFORE this post. That is to say, when you post, you are allowed to say that your character arrived before Blake starts class (before this post) and therefore was not late. This is allowed until I next post as Blake, which should be the 20th or 21st of June (my timezone). If you have questions, you can ask me via Jake.]]

Greeting each student as they came in whether he received a greeting or not, Blake took careful note of each person. He kept his eye out for one student in particular -- Mathew Howard. His team had not gotten anything useful (or anything at all, really) but there was still something unsettling about the male that Blake couldn't write off just yet. Mathew was by no means an innocent Hufflepuff, his gut told him that much. If Mathew were the one responsible and a Nightshade sympathiser, or simply guilty of something else was up to debate. Still, Blake would have to be extra careful.

The other surprising thing was that the Richardson girl -- Stephanie -- kept showing up despite the obvious disinterest written on her face the first class. What was going on? Blake couldn't tell.

At Joshua's paper, Blake took it, skimming through the words. "Nicely done," he commented. "Although I thought I asked for your favourite furniture and not the history of it, it's still well written. I'm sure the Flying Spaghetti Monster appreciates having a new play toy up there in the realm of imaginary gods. Take ten points." He paused, sent Joshua a grin. "And oh, don't let this happen again. Having a chair fetish is one thing; disrespecting the class is another. Have you ever heard the whole 'if you eat in class bring enough for everyone' Rule? Yea, it counts for more than eating. Bring enough chairs for everyone and we're cool."

In any case, he hoped today's lesson would help a little in his search, although it was disguised as a fun little activity. It was a scheme he was particularly proud of, though he couldn't brag about it for obvious reasons.

At the exact moment his watch told him it was time, he straightened a little, flicking his wand slightly to close the door. It wasn't and wouldn't be locked, but it was shut so that those coming late would know they were late. "Hello, class," he greeted, his usual smile on his face. "I'd start by introducing the lesson, but then I'd give too much away and where's the fun in that? So, instead, I'm gonna ask a bunch of questions (free house points, really) and let that be a lead up to the lesson itself, okay? One answer each, no need to raise your hand either. Just call out the number to the question you want to answer, and answer -- but if you shout I'll have to insist that you do so loud enough that the other classes hear you; if you're not capable of being that loud, don't be loud at all. Note there may be more than one answer per question."

He raised his wand, pointed it at the board, and the questions began to appear.

1) What comes to mind when you think of the word 'identification'? What about identification from the government's point of view?

2) How do people in the wizarding world identity themselves?

3) How do people in the muggle world identify themselves?

[[OOC 2: Lyd, if Elleon attends, as always, Blake signs for him in broken sign.]]

Guest

Avalon admired the fact that Hogwarts offered a class on Muggle studies. It showed an acceptance between the wizarding and Muggle worlds. At his Muggle school in the United States, he was taught U.S history and practically nothing except for U.S history. He would learn how other countries have affected the Unites States through the years, but his teachers never focused on those other countries specifically.

He hadn't paid much mind to it at the moment, but the memories of these classes both confused and slightly disgusted him. Countries and worlds were not only home to the residents. They belonged to everyone who experienced the world and everyone who was open to learning more about the culture. Why shouldn't the world learn more about other cultures in return?

He walked into class to see a single word on the board.

"In what context?" He questioned. "Will we be discussing self-identification or will we be identifying an object?" From the supplies that he found at the tables, Avalon assumed that it was the latter. But one could never be sure.

Guest

Stephanie watched as other students started arriving. She knew most of them - it was her duty as queen bee of the school to know everyone and whether or not they were worth her time. Was Stephanie thought to herself. Of course, she still knew who everyone was, she just wasn't as active in getting involved in the latest gossip, actually finding other hobbies besides her usual ones. The Abbott boy (he most definitely was not a man) irked her the most.

Professor Blake started the class - she still found it hard thinking of him as Professor; he looked nothing like one - and she smiled a little at his shouting comment. It was one thing she could not fault him for, anticipating the students responses and addressing them before they could go any further. Her regard for him increased the slightest bit.

The first thing that came to her mind regarding "identification" was her name. Stephanie Kenneisha Richardson. For her whole life, her name had defined her - the way she behaved and the way others behaved towards her. With a name like hers, she could have almost anything she wanted. But who was she beyond that? There had to be more to her than that, right?

Deciding that the first question was too personal for her to share with the class, Stephanie went for the second question. "Question number two," she called out, loud enough that everyone could hear her clearly but not as loud as shouting. "People in the wizarding world identify themselves through their wands," she began, confident in her answer. "Every wand is unique and therefore, easily identified from the rest. Also, a wand bonds with its master making possible to identify the wizard or witch in possession of it."

[[OOC: If any of what I've written is not accurate, please let me know. Stephanie would never make a mistake in her knowledge of wizarding stuff, so I'll correct whatever needs correcting.]]

Guest

OOC: I'm super sorry if you have been waiting for me -- heh.

Mathew was not interested in Muggle Studies. It was the largest waste of a class in the entire universe of classes. He'd learnt nothing from their first lesson, and he was expecting to learn precisely the same amount from this lesson. So, why then, was the Hufflepuff heading towards the class for a second time if not to achieve some greater understanding? The question was a good one, a valid one even, but not one he would answer.

Slipping through the door, he glanced towards the unassuming professor and then headed towards his desk without a word. There was something... off with the professor. Mathew was, relatively, good at reading people. He could spot a liar from a mile off, really. But, Professor Mason wasn't giving him that vibe. He was... giving a vibe that Mathew could not place his finger on.

As he sat down, Mathew took in the board, frowning slightly at the single word and then looking down at the pile before him. Paper, inks and tissues. Finger painting? How many idiots had thought that first? Mathew knew in an instant what the professor had planned, and a slow spreading smirk touched his features. Identification. Finger prints. Mathew was most certainly not going to play ball this lesson.

Instead -- due to it being December -- the Hufflepuff reached in to his bad and purposefully. Obviously, pulled on a pair of leather gloves. His eyes were straight on the professor. Oh, he wasn't so stupid as to think the man couldn't swab fingerprints from his bag, or insist on him taking the gloves off. Mathew was simply making a point that 1) he wasn't going to play this game, and 2) perhaps he knew something was up.

Maybe.

Crossing his arms across his chest, Mathew waited for the lesson to begin, and when it did, he waited patiently for the answers to be given by the boring people who jumped for points without duly considering their words, and finding better answers.

"Three." Mathew said very clearly, his tone was loud enough to hold the room's attention, and, well, enough people would know by now from the Quidditch pitch that he was not someone you messed with. "Muggles use a variety of means to identify themselves. Should they be leaving the country, they will need a passport with a picture of themselves, and their important information. Birthdays. Birthplace. Full name.

"They have driving licences when they pass their tests to drive vehicles. Again, it holds their picture. Their full name. Their date of birth. Their address." Mathew listed, his eyes firmly set on the professor before he continued on. "The Muggle police force, I'm told, collate the fingerprints of criminals in a system so that if they should find fingerprints at another crime scene, they might be able to lock up a known felon.

"You also have the retina scan, which, should be full proof as an ID. Unless... I don't know, you cut someone's eyeball out and use it to fool the machine's that operate the security. A new one, I've heard, is the voice recognition, but I'm not sure that's as good as some would believe. After all, we have people pretending to be other people all the time." Mathew finished, holding the professor's gaze only a moment more before he looked away, around at his peers.

"I'd be very careful who you let take your finger prints." Was the only warning he gave them. Who would heed it, he didn't care.

Guest

Elleon had another professor he could add to the list of professor he liked. Not that he had an actual list, but there were definitely some professors he preferred over others. Professor Blake seemed like the fun kind, the one where he tried to make learning as fun as possible while still covering what he needed to. And of course, it helped that he signed. It made it way easier for Elleon to keep up with class and he didn't end up with a headache after it was over. Sure it wasn't perfect but it was understandable, and Elleon was immensely grateful for that.

He walked into the classroom and greeted Professor Blake with a smile and wave. Elleon had already assigned - unofficially - a name sign to him; it was a b near the head with the hand movement imitating the curliness of his hair, but hadn't yet used it with him.

Taking his usual seat at the front, Elleon noted the items on the desk, his brain immediately conjuring all the things he could do with an inkpad. It would make for excellent art. He took out his sketchbook, ready to experiment with a few things while waiting for the class to start, but when he reached for the inkpad, he realised that Professor Blake had put some sort of charm or spell so that he could not undo the ribbon. Oh well, he could probably try that some other time.

Eyes moving to the board, he saw that the lesson was about identification. Fingerprints probably. Glancing around the room - it was a habit, or more of a necessity, that he was always aware of what was going on around him - he spotted the cauldron. From where he was, he could not see what was inside but guessed that it was a liquid of some sort that had to be kept heated. Oil? No, but that didn't relate to identity. A potion of some sort?

His thoughts were interrupted as Professor Blake started the class, signing after he spoke so that Elleon could follow. Even then, he didn't fully understand what that whole Ikea chair business was about. But Professor Blake soon moved on to the questions, two of which other students answered. Since Professor Blake interpreted what they said, Elleon didn't have to guess which question was left like he usually did.

Out of habit, he held his hand out, palm facing downwards and moving his wrist in an up-down movement to catch attention before holding his finger up in a '1'. "As someone who is Deaf, that's part of my identity," he began. "It's what makes a person who they are, who they think they are, and who other people think they are." He made sure to sign slowly, using signs that were common as well as mouthing the words to help Professor Blake understand him. He didn't quite know how to answer the second part of the question since it wasn't written down which government Professor Blake was talking about, the Muggle or the Wizarding, so ended his answer there.

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