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Muggles?  Closed 

For a Pure Blood witch who’s never even set foot in London, the heart of muggle England, muggle studies is difficult. Her interest in muggles was piqued from a young age but her father’s old-fashioned ways and clear dislike for the non-magical and therefore ‘lesser’ society had made it difficult for her to learn even the basics. Her shielded childhood had left her with only the basic knowledge of muggles- she’d never even seen a car in real life- meaning she lacked the ground knowledge that her professors seemed to assume everyone knew.

So, after she’d finished her last lesson of the day, she made her way up to the library in hopes of finding a book which might offer some more information that what little she already possessed. She’d hoped that by now she’d met a muggle-born or at least someone with some from of experience in the muggle world to share stories with her but so far, she was yet to find a friend to talk to about anything. She walked up to the shelf labelled ‘Muggles’ and began her search.

After all this time? Always.

Muggles?  Closed 

The library had been a place of refuge for Norah. It was easy to lose herself in the smell of old books and the safety of the shelves. Some days, she forwent tables and chairs and just did her homework sitting on the floor with her back against one of the high bookcases. For a Slytherin, she was awfully studious and had the voracity of a Ravenclaw for knowledge. Besides, if she ever was to keep up the charade of being a half-blood, then she needed to know enough about magic and the wizarding world to make herself credible. But there was a bit of pride in the green faced robes in knowing that she was in the house of future leaders. Let it never be said that a Slytherin didn't amount to something even for good.

It was after classes, and Norah heard someone walk past close to where she was sitting and reading. She caught a glimpse of the hem of someone's robe, but all that said was that there was another student nearby. For several moments, she hid herself behind the book and pretended not to notice. But as it was, curiosity killed the cat, and Norah worked up the courage to investigate. She closed her book and silently mouthed the page number to commit it to memory. It was a muggle book titled Mansfield Park with a painting of an idyllic country house on the cover. The book she kept tucked under one arm as she approached the girl in the Muggle section of the library. "Hey. If you're looking for books on muggles, read them with a grain of salt. Most of them are really biased against muggles. Just thought you should know." Norah offered a helpful smile and tried to convey her good intentions. She'd cracked open a few and had been offended and slightly disgusted at the way some authors believed muggles were little better than well trained rats.