Chapter 7
Professor Flitwick bustled down the Ravenclaw table with his usual energy, a stack of schedules in hand. His diminutive stature didn’t stop him from commanding attention as he handed out the timetables to his students, who eagerly, or reluctantly, accepted them.
When he reached Jinx, her cropped uniform still drawing occasional side-eyes from other students; he gave her a forced smile. “Here you are, Miss Snape. A busy year ahead, but I’m sure you’ll manage.”
Jinx scanned her schedule, her mismatched socks peeking from beneath her cropped uniform trousers as she propped one foot up on the bench. She grinned. “Alright, let’s see what kind of chaos I’ve signed up for.”
Harry leaned over, curious. “What did you get?”
“Same as you lot for the major stuff,” she said, tapping her finger on the parchment. “Transfiguration, Charms, Potions, Defense Against the Dark Arts, History of Magic, Astronomy, and Herbology. But look at this!” She jabbed a finger at two additional subjects listed at the bottom.
Ron peered over, frowning. “Muggle Studies? Isn’t that a bit, y’know, basic for you?”
Jinx shrugged. “Figured it might be a laugh. Never know what I’ll learn.”
Hermione nodded approvingly. “It’s always good to understand different perspectives. What’s this other one, though?”
“Magical Engineering,” Jinx announced with a dramatic flourish. “Sounds cool, doesn’t it? Viktor and Jayce are teaching it.”
“Magical Engineering?” Hermione repeated, her eyes narrowing with curiosity. “I’ve never heard of that class before.”
“It’s new,” Jinx said, smirking. “Experimental stuff. Probably involves blowing things up, or, y’know, building things to blow up later. Either way, it’s right up my alley.”
Fred and George perked up at this, leaning in with identical grins.
“Blowing things up, you say?” George began.
Fred finished, “We might have to pop in for a guest lecture.”
Hermione looked scandalized. “That sounds reckless! Hogwarts is already full of enough accidents without adding an experimental class!”
“Oh, come on, Hermione,” Harry said with a chuckle. “It could be fun.”
Ron looked a bit uneasy. “You reckon Jayce and Viktor know what they’re doing, though? What if they accidentally... I dunno, take out a whole tower or something?”
“Guess we’ll find out,” Jinx said cheerfully, stuffing the schedule into her bag. “Either way, it’s bound to be interesting.”
Professor Flitwick, who had overheard the conversation, cleared his throat and smiled up at the group. “Ah, yes, Magical Engineering! An exciting recent addition to the curriculum. Professors Tallis have assured me it will be a fascinating and perfectly safe endeavor.”
His reassurance did little to convince Hermione, who muttered something under her breath about safety protocols.
As the chatter continued, Jinx leaned back in her seat, already imagining the chaos and creativity the new subject would bring. Whatever happened, she was sure of one thing: this year was going to be unforgettable.
Jinx strolled into the Muggle Studies classroom, her Ravenclaw tie askew and her boots thudding softly against the stone floor. Posters lining the room depicted simplistic illustrations of cars, telephones, and other basic Muggle inventions. A projector hummed in the corner, ready for the professor’s presentation.
She glanced around, unimpressed. The other students were mostly younger years, their faces eager and curious. Jinx smirked to herself. “This ought to be fun,” she muttered, plopping down into a seat near the back.
Professor Burbage, a friendly-looking witch with a perpetually cheerful demeanor, entered the room, clapping her hands together. “Good morning, everyone! Welcome to Muggle Studies. Today, we’ll start with an overview of how Muggles get around without magic. Cars, trains, bicycles, so fascinating!”
Jinx raised an eyebrow but stayed quiet as the professor launched into an enthusiastic explanation of combustion engines. It didn’t take long for her patience to wear thin.
“Actually,” Jinx interrupted, her voice cutting through the room like a knife, “you missed the part about how internal combustion engines are wildly inefficient and cause a load of pollution. Muggles are working on better alternatives now, like electric cars. Did you even mention hybrids?”
Professor Burbage blinked, momentarily thrown off. “Well, Miss Snape, this is just an introduction, ”
“Right,” Jinx said, leaning back and folding her arms, “but it’s a bit misleading to act like cars are the pinnacle of transportation. Ever heard of bullet trains? Those things go over 200 miles per hour. And bicycles? They’re way more eco-friendly.”
A few students turned in their seats, some snickering, others wide-eyed.
The professor tried to regain control. “Thank you for your input, Miss Snape, but perhaps we can stick to the lesson plan for now?”
“Sure,” Jinx said, her tone dripping with mock innocence. “But if you’re going to talk about how Muggles live, maybe don’t gloss over their struggles, like the fact that millions of them can’t afford cars or even decent public transport. Or how some places don’t even have clean drinking water.”
The room went silent. Even the snickering students stopped to gape at her.
Professor Burbage’s smile faltered, and a faint flush crept up her cheeks. “Miss Snape, while I appreciate your enthusiasm, this classroom has rules. If you continue to interrupt, I’ll have to ask you to remain silent for the rest of the lesson.”
Jinx shrugged, unbothered. “Fine. I’ll keep quiet. Just thought it might be worth mentioning, y’know, reality.”
As the professor attempted to move on, Jinx leaned back in her chair, smirking at the mixture of astonished and amused glances being thrown her way.
When the class ended, Professor Burbage asked Jinx to stay behind.
“Miss Snape,” she said, her tone sharp but not unkind, “I understand you may have more knowledge of Muggle life than most of your classmates, but there’s a way to share that knowledge without disrupting the class.”
Jinx gave a lazy grin. “Sorry, Professor. Guess I got a bit carried away. But maybe next time, don’t sugarcoat it so much, yeah?”
The professor sighed deeply, clearly contemplating whether to be angry or not. “I expect better behavior moving forward, Miss Snape. Don’t make me have to send a note to Professor Flitwick, or your guardian.”
Jinx strolled out of the Muggle Studies classroom, her boots clicking against the stone floor as she suppressed a smirk. The warning from Professor Burbage barely registered; she was far too amused by how rattled the professor had been.
When the next Muggle Studies lesson rolled around, she didn’t bother hiding her boredom. She slumped into her seat, idly doodling in her notebook while the professor droned on about Muggle inventions. This time, the topic was communication.
“Muggles have created ingenious ways to stay in touch,” Professor Burbage said enthusiastically. “Telephones, letters, and now, computers! They can even send messages instantly across the world with something called the Internet.”
Jinx rolled her eyes. She tried to let it go, but the itch to correct grew unbearable. Her hand shot up.
“Miss Snape,” the professor acknowledged warily.
“Just wondering,” Jinx began, her voice sweet but loaded with sarcasm, “are we going to discuss the monitoring of those instant messages?” Or how not everyone can afford computers or Internet access? Or how some people are stuck with ancient tech that barely works because their governments don’t invest in infrastructure?”
Professor Burbage blinked, surprised again. “Well, that’s not exactly the focus of today’s lesson, ”
“Right,” Jinx interrupted, sitting up straighter now, “but if you’re painting this shiny picture of Muggles and their tech, maybe include the fact that in some places, people still communicate by shouting across fields because there’s no signal. Or that entire villages rely on a single phone. It’s not all emails and text messages.”
The professor inhaled deeply, her tone growing firmer. “Miss Snape, while your insights are... interesting, this is a classroom, not a debate hall. Please allow me to teach.”
Jinx leaned back, crossing her arms. “Just trying to help you keep it accurate, Professor.”
The professor’s patience snapped. “That’s enough, Miss Snape. If you disrupt the class again, I’ll be speaking to Professor Flitwick and your guardian.”
Jinx pouted dramatically, but her eyes sparkled with smugness. “Fine. I’ll behave. For now.”
The rest of the class passed in tense silence, with Jinx visibly biting her tongue every time the professor spoke.
After class, Professor Burbage kept her back again.
“Miss Snape,” she said, her voice tight with exasperation, “I understand you have unique perspectives, but there’s a line between sharing knowledge and undermining the lesson. You’re walking that line, and crossing it.”
Jinx tilted her head, feigning innocence. “I’m just saying what no one else will. If you’re going to teach about Muggles, maybe do them justice instead of giving everyone this sanitized version.”
The professor pinched the bridge of her nose. “This isn’t a philosophical debate, Miss Snape. It’s a classroom. If you can’t respect that, there will be consequences.”
Jinx sighed theatrically. “Understood, Professor. I’ll try to be good. No promises, though.”
As she left the classroom, her pout transformed into a sly grin. Despite her displeasure at the scolding, a little smugness couldn’t help but surface. She knew things these wizards could never dream of understanding. Even when she alluded to struggles in her world, such as people scavenging for scrap to survive or entire cities lost to conflict, they understood nothing. They barely cared about Muggles at all.
“They don’t even know what they don’t know,” Jinx muttered to herself, shaking her head. “Pathetic.”
By the third Muggle Studies lesson, Professor Burbage’s patience had completely run dry. Jinx had interrupted yet another lecture, this time about Muggle transportation, with a lengthy rant about the environmental impact of cars and how entire communities struggled with public transit infrastructure. The professor, red-faced and fuming, pointed directly at the door.
“Out, Miss Snape. Now.”
Jinx didn’t even argue. She stood, grabbed her bag, and sauntered out with a smirk, ignoring the stifled snickers from her classmates. She muttered under her breath as she walked down the corridor, “At least the trees don’t try to silence me.”
By the time her next Muggle Studies class rolled around, it had become routine: Jinx would disrupt, the professor would growl at her to leave, and she’d gladly oblige, wandering off to do her own thing. Her absences barely raised eyebrows until the day Professor McGonagall strode into the Great Hall during lunch, lips pursed in frustration, dragging Jinx behind her by the wrist.
She stopped in front of Harry, Ron, and Hermione, who were mid-conversation.
“Mr. Potter,” McGonagall said sternly, her gaze flicking to Jinx with visible exasperation. “Would you care to explain why this young lady was sitting in a tree during your Care of Magical Creatures lesson?”
Harry blinked, startled. “Er... I didn’t even notice she was there.”
“Of course you didn’t,” McGonagall replied sharply. “She perched high enough to rival the owls.”
Jinx grinned sheepishly. “Magnificent view up there, you know. I could see the whole Hippogriff thing. Fascinating creatures.”
“Hippogriffs?” Ron whispered, his mouth full of food. “Why would you skip class to watch that?”
“Because it was better than sitting through a lecture on Muggle fashion,” Jinx replied with a shrug. “If I hear one more word about ‘the ingenious simplicity of denim,’ I might lose my mind.”
McGonagall raised an eyebrow. “Miss Snape, regardless of your opinion on the curriculum, I expect you to attend and stay in your lessons. Climbing trees during another class is unacceptable behavior.”
“Technically,” Jinx began, “I wasn’t interrupting anything. Just observing.”
“Enough,” McGonagall snapped. “You will be accompanying me to Professor Flitwick’s office. Perhaps he can impress upon you the importance of respecting your schedule.”
Hermione leaned closer to Harry as McGonagall led Jinx away. “Honestly, does she take anything seriously?”
Harry shrugged, biting back a laugh. “Apparently Hippogriffs.”
When Jinx reappeared at dinner, she looked utterly unrepentant, though her tie was slightly askew from whatever stern lecture Flitwick had given her. She plopped down next to the twins at the Gryffindor table, earning a round of snickers from their end of the bench.
“See, I told you,” George said, elbowing Fred. “She’s a Ravenclaw in uniform only. Spirit of a Gryffindor.”
Fred grinned. “Or maybe just the spirit of chaos.”
Jinx grinned back, leaning conspiratorially toward them. “Chaos, huh? I like the sound of that.”
Across the hall, Snape observed the scene from the staff table, his expression a mixture of irritation and reluctant resignation. “I warned them,” he muttered to himself, “but no one listens.”
As the next morning dawned, the Great Hall buzzed with the usual morning chatter; students adjusted schedules, groaned over homework, and piled their plates high with breakfast. Jinx, however, strolled in late, her Ravenclaw tie loosely knotted and her boots thudding softly on the stone floor. She carried a stack of new textbooks, looking entirely unbothered as she dropped them onto the table next to Harry and the twins.
“What’s all that?” Fred asked, gesturing to the books.
Jinx grabbed a piece of toast and grinned. “New subjects. I’m officially done with Muggle Studies.”
“Done? Already?” Hermione looked up sharply, clearly scandalized. “It’s only been a week!”
“Well,” Jinx said, taking a bite of her toast and speaking around it, “Professor Burbage and I reached an ‘understanding.’” She made air quotes with her fingers, smirking. “Apparently, I’m too disruptive for her classroom. Something about ‘undermining her authority’ and ‘deliberately causing chaos.’”
Ron raised an eyebrow. “Did you really get kicked out of a subject in your first week?”
Jinx shrugged. “Let’s call it a mutual decision.”
Hermione looked ready to launch into a tirade, but Harry interrupted. “So what are you taking now?”
She smirked as if it were a badge of honor. “I’m taking Arithmancy now. Heard it’s all numbers and logic. Should be fun.”
“You?” Ron asked incredulously. “Numbers and logic? That doesn’t seem like your thing.”
“Shows what you know,” Jinx retorted. “I’m great at logic when I want to be.”
Hermione frowned. “Arithmancy is challenging. You can’t just breeze through it like you’ve been doing with everything else.”
“I don’t plan to,” Jinx replied, oddly sincere for once. “Also, I managed to talk Flitwick into letting me take Magical Theory. You know, the really advanced stuff. He found my charmwork impressive.
Fred and George exchanged a glance, then burst out laughing.
“You charm your way into everything, don’t you?” Fred teased.
“More like pester,” George added.
“Pester, charm, same result,” Jinx said with a grin.
Across the table, Harry couldn’t help but chuckle. Although he didn’t understand how Jinx convinced Flitwick, Harry wasn’t surprised. Her relentless energy was impossible to ignore, even for the staff.
Hermione, however, was still frowning. “Magical Theory is no joke, Jinx. It’s complex spell construction, the history of enchantments, and practical experimentation. Are you sure you can handle all of this with Magical Engineering, too?”
Jinx shrugged. “Guess we’ll find out. I like a challenge.”
Ron shook his head, muttering, “She’s mad, that one.”
As the students began filing out of the Great Hall for their first lessons, Jinx caught up to Harry and whispered, “Don’t worry, little bird, I’ve got this.”
Harry raised an eyebrow. “Little bird? Why are you calling me little bird?”
“Yeah,” Jinx said with a wink. “You’ll see.”
Whatever that meant, Harry wasn’t sure, but he had a feeling Jinx’s first week was only the beginning of the chaos she’d bring to Hogwarts.