Chapter 1: So Hank, You're a Muggle?

A/N: After letting this project sit for over a year I finally decided that it was time to edit this story. Professor Muggle was the first fanfiction that I had ever attempted, and although I had a very kind beta there are a lot of errors in this story. This was originally published on a different site, but Fanfiction is now the home of the Professor Muggle series. As this story is an introduction to the rest of my stories, the time has come to put it in order. I'll publish the new chapters as they are updated. Thanks, and happy reading.

So somehow I realized I was sitting in a big green chair and looking out of a castle window. A castle. The night had cooled rapidly; even though it was still technically summer, the first week of August to be exact, the combination of elevation and strangeness made it seem colder. Maybe it was just a trick of the mind, but then again everything seemed so…what was the word? 'Other' was the only thing that came to mind. There was another world that existed right alongside my 'real' world and nobody even knew it. There were no fire engines, police sirens, car traffic…none of the things that said 'I am living in the modern city.' Instead the lamps slowly illuminated themselves, the flames starting in slow trickles but growing stronger until the entire room was illuminated.

"Rooms." I remember saying that part out loud, to my unpacked luggage and stacks of books. A robe hung on the door of the wardrobe, an official robe according to Longbottom, not an everyday one. Longbottom…man the English have odd names. Everyday robes? It just kept getting weirder, but at least I remembered a bottle of scotch. But then the thought came that if I was going to have a drink, though, I really needed a glass. And ice. Where do they get ice? I just needed one cube for the drink. They way everything had been in the last few days, especially lately, though, I would probably need more than one drink. Water? What about a small pitcher of water?

A knock on the door erased those questions from my mind.

"Professor Boyd? I hope I'm not intruding." The tall, dark-haired man poked his head in the door, looking as if disturbing someone would be the absolute last thing he would wish to do.

"Of course not, Mr. Longbottom. Please come in."

"Thank you, Professor. Please, call me Neville. When Hogwarts is in session, though, please call me Professor. Among us, though, just Neville, please."

"Of course, Neville. Please call me Hank. I'm still not used to being called Professor, though. Have a seat; I was just about to have a drink. Care to join me?"

We sat at a small table to the side of the room. It was a tower room, or more appropriately rooms, and the ceilings were over ten feet tall with heavy scarlet and blue curtains covering the large windows. Books, boxes and other items were cluttered alongside the far wall next to the large bed. After going over to the bed and moving multiple boxes and packages out of the way I finally found my goal; a large backpack. I unzipped the main compartment and unrolled a towel to reveal a bottle of scotch.

"Friends sent this off with me when I left. I was really hoping it didn't break. Um, Neville, I have a question. Where can I get some glasses, ice, and water, um pretty much everything except scotch?" Neville grinned, seemed almost embarrassed and pulled a little stick out of his robes. Some stick waving later two glasses appeared on the table alongside a small bucket of ice and a silver pitcher of water. I watched the beads of condensation trickle down the pitcher and didn't say anything for a few minutes. "Sorry, Neville. That's going to take some getting used to."

"No no no, I'm sorry. I apologize, I'm sure it will come as some shock for a bit. I think you'll get used to it, though. Some of my best friends were Muggle-born and they've seemed to adapt fairly well."

"True, but they can use magic, right?"

"Um." Neville looked at the raven statue on top of the bookcase in the corner for a fleeting moment before turning back to me. "True. But some of their parents aren't wizards or witches. I'll introduce you sometime. I think you'll find it educational."

I poured out two glasses of scotch, added one ice cube and a small bit of water to mine and handed Neville the other glass.

"Neville, I think the whole part of my being here, let alone being the Professor of Muggle Studies at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, will be an educational experience."

Later that evening, after a single glass of scotch, Neville had excused himself and said goodnight. It took the better part of an hour before the room was manageable enough, let alone the bed cleared off enough to sleep before I could stop and try to begin to process everything. I decided upon a small mental checklist, a trick I used when studying or during important things. While I looked at the moon sliver through a gap in the curtains I went through the list:

What I Know

I am in Scotland

I am at school for magic

Magic really freaking exists

A nice guy who's in charge of this place just made scotch glasses appear out of thin air

I'm supposed to teach something called Muggle Studies

I'm single.

Fuck.

The last item on the list snuck up on me. Dammit, it wasn't supposed to happen like that. I was in Scotland trying to get away from everything. Hell, the place was currently located was as completely as far away from that as possible. Half a world away from Virginia, half a world away from that heartache. I stopped and realized I was talking out loud again. Bullshit the little voice inside my head said. You can never run away from that. Stupid.

-ooo-

I woke up sometime later and due to the very heavy bed curtains I couldn't decide initially if it was day or night. After I stumbled out of bed and tripped over a book I almost ended up landing on my ass in a half-unpacked trunk full of clothing. Light streamed into the room when I finally parted the curtains. "Morning, I guess." After realizing I was talking out loud again several thoughts started in on me, one especially: am I talking to myself or am I still talking to her? Crap. I needed my watch, my glasses too, but I didn't know where they hell they were. I made my way into the shower; at least the room had a decent shower, and it appeared that someone was nice enough to put minimal toiletries in the bathroom so I didn't have to dig through all my stuff. God only knew where it was packed. After all the horror stories I'd heard from the family in the airport about Scottish plumbing the shower warmed up rather quickly. That family didn't know what they were talking about; so far Scotland was great. They must have stayed at awful hotels that didn't have a hot water from this century or towels worth a…towels. Shit. I didn't remember seeing any towels. Crap.

I stuck my head through the shower curtain and looked around hopefully, but no towels were in sight. "Great, now where the hell am I going to get a towel?"

*CRACK*

Standing on the bathroom floor with one hand over its eyes and another holding a towel was the weirdest little thing I had ever seen. I had almost slipped out of the shower in surprise at the huge-eyed thing with weird ears.

"FUCK! What the hell?"

"Oh, Nonky is sorry, so sorry. Professor Boyd asked for a towel so Nonky brought you a towel. Nonky is sorry if I scared you Professor Boyd!"

I took a longer look at the small creature that trembled and held a towel towards my general direction. After stopping the water and taking the towel I wrapped it around my waist and stepped out, still dripping slightly. "You can look now. Thank you, by the way."

The small creature removed his hand from his eyes but lowered his gaze immediately. "You're welcome, Professor Boyd. Very welcome."

"Please, call me Hank. What's your name again? And I'm sorry if this is rude, but what exactly are you?"

"A house elf, sir. Nonky, sir."

"Nice to meet you, Nonky. Thank you for the towel. If you don't mind me asking, how did you know I asked for a towel?"

"I'm a house-elf, sir...that's what we do, we help. Must go now. Goodbye."

With another loud crack Nonky disappeared. I stood there in a towel and rubbed my head. As Neville said, the experience was definitely going to be educational.

After standing at my wardrobe and luggage pile, wondering what professors wear to breakfast when school hasn't started yet, I eventually pulled on jeans, a polo shirt and my favorite old driving loafers. It was a good thing the loafers passed the sniff test, nothing like meeting your new colleagues and wondering if everyone could smell your shoes. I was just about at the door ready to head to breakfast when I realized I had absolutely no clue where anything was in the place. Arriving at night had been a blur, the castle (holy shit it was a castle) had loomed large in the clouded moonlight, and then Neville had led me to my room where all of my belongings had already arrived. There was no map of the place on the back of the door; after all, this wasn't like the hotel room in the Outer Banks where we…damn. Again with those memories.

A knock on the door brought me back to reality. I walked over and opened the door to see Neville standing there smiling. "Good morning, Hank. I figured you might need some help finding your way to breakfast."

I smiled back. Thank God for Neville. "Morning, Neville. You're absolutely right. Thanks a lot."

We walked down towards the Great Hall and Neville pointed things out as we walked. My head swam as it was almost too much to keep up with. Finally we reached the Great Hall where a small amount of people were beginning to gather, and the smells of breakfast hit me like a ton of bricks.

"Wow, I can't remember when the last time I ate was…probably that stuff that was on the airplane."

Neville laughed slightly, "Yes, I'm sorry about that. The Ministry decided it was best you travel like a Muggle to avoid any notice."

"Neville, are all the Ministry folks so, um…are they always like that meeting we had? Are they all so, um, official?"

"No, Hank, not all of them. That was just Percy. He's better than he used to be."

"That's scary."

We sat at a table towards the corner of the Great Hall, and after we had settled in Neville nodded. "I thought this would be better for your first time here in the hall, Professors and staff sit at the main table up there. Just a friendly breakfast today, that way I can answer any questions you have about Hogwarts."

"Sounds good, Neville, but how do we get breakfast?"

"Just think of what you want for breakfast and the house elves will bring it to you."

That was too good to be true. I just knew I was going to wake up in my little house and it would all be a dream. Well, I decided that if it was a dream I was going to take full advantage. I closed my eyes and thought of a big ham and cheese omelet, fried potatoes, bacon and a big cup of hot coffee from my favorite coffeehouse with sugar and cream. The smell hit me before I could open my eyes, and the instant I did open my eyes I saw all the food I had just thought of, large portioned and waiting, right in front of me on the table. Just as I had imagined it, with one small difference; no coffee.

*CRACK*

"Nonky is sorry, Headmaster, but Neeker is having a small problem with Professor Boyd's order, sir."

I looked at the house elf and saw Nonky's big eyes plead with Neville for understanding and forgiveness.

Neville smiled. "Good morning, Nonky, how are you? What's the issue with Neeker?"

"Neeker doesn't have any of the coffee that Professor Boy…"

"Hank, Nonky. Call me Hank. If you don't have any coffee that's fine. Dark tea will work great. Sugar and cream…"

"Milk, Hank." Neville smiled. "We do milk in tea, not cream."

"That's cool. Nonky, just bring me tea like Neville's if it's not too much trouble."

Nonky let out his breath and sighed in extreme relief. "Oh no, not at all, not all all. Right up."

Before I could even thank Nonky a cup of tea appeared on the table.

"Thank you, Nonky. Please tell Neeker not to worry." Neville thanked the house elf, which stood at his side.

The conversation I'd had with Neville the night before about house elves and their self-punishments shot to the front of my thoughts, but my mental images of Neeker punishing herself due to a lack of coffee were quickly dissipated by Nonky's small bow and smile, and with that he was gone

Neville took a sip of tea and relaxed. "A proper cup of tea will help get you acclimatized to Hogwarts. Now Hank, do you have any questions?"

My big laugh echoed off the walls and caused the small amount of people in the Great Hall to look our way. "How much time you got, Neville?"

-ooo-

For the fourth time in as many minutes I stared at my reflection in the mirror. Relax; it's only a dinner party. These are people that Neville says will help you understand what kind of world you're in now. Relax. Right. You're in Scotland and somehow you're going to end up in London at someplace called Grimm-Odd with everybody that can do magic except you and it's just going to be a pleasant evening all around. No awkwardness there at all. No Janine there to lend support, either. DAMMIT. Now you're thinking about her again and that can't go well. You're out of scotch, you can't find an electrical outlet to iron your shirt and your belt is somewhere at large amongst all the luggage that's yet to be unpacked. Wonderful. Fucking perfect.

I looked in the mirror again, smoothed my hair and decided the goatee wasn't quite ready for a trim yet. I put my hands on the side of the sink, took a long look in the mirror and assessed the situation. Almost thirty-six years old, going slightly bald, the reddish-blonde hair going white in my beard and lines beginning to form around my eyes just like Granddad's. At least my glasses were ok, even though I need a new prescription but hadn't done that yet; that would be just another reminder that I'm getting old and wasn't married. Married. Crap. I'd planned on proposing to Janine, had even gone as far as to look for a ring before she had dumped me at that damned black tie dance for her work. She'd made sure I rented a very nice hotel, we went to the dance…crap crap crap. It's because I'm too old for her; that had to be part of it even though she didn't say so. I know it deep down that had to be part of the reason. Good God, now I'm getting hairy ears. "Just give me a walker and a Clapper and pack me off to the old people's home." My reflection in the mirror did not reply.

Neville knocked on the door and poked his head in. "Ready Hank?"

I left the bathroom and walked into the room, adjusting my glasses as I walked. "I guess so, Neville. How are we getting there?"

Neville smiled calmly. "Well, since you've got your special Ministry privileges, we're going to side-along apparate. Normally we couldn't do that since you're a Muggle, but you are a special case." Neville explained apparition and watched me turn slightly pale.

"This sounds like something out of a science-fiction story." Seeing Neville's expression, I quickly told him not to mind, that it was a Muggle thing, and I was as ready as he would ever be.

It was a big house, and after the shock of watching it appear in front of my eyes I wondered if I would ever get used to the realization that the magical world existed right alongside my world. Neville knocked on the door and it was then that I felt a sinking feeling that I was being a bad guest; I hadn't brought a bottle of wine or anything for the hosts. My mother would be aghast at my lack of manners, but I wondered if maybe things were different in London. London. I'd been in Scotland a few minutes ago and now I was in London. Mind boggling. My reverie was interrupted when a red-haired woman answered the door and invited us in, hugging Neville and welcoming me in with a smile.

"Harry, everyone, our guests are here." She gave Neville a kiss on the cheek and put her hand out to me. "Hello Hank, I'm Ginny Potter. Very nice to meet you."

I shook her hand. "Very nice to meet you. Thank you for having me over tonight."

I followed Neville and Ginny to a very large, comfortable room with bookcases, pictures and full of people. In short order I met Ginny's husband, Ginny's brother and his wife and several other people who's names I would have a hard time remembering. Names, names, names. I knew I was going to mess up remembering everybody's names at least a couple times, but at least I could remember Hermione's name (Hermione Weasley, Ron's wife. Hermione Weasley, Ron's wife. Ginny's sister-in-law.). That was one I'd hadn't heard outside of my literature readings. Well, her and George Weasley, Ginny and Ron's brother, as he only had one ear for some reason. After introductions and shaking everyone's hand Hermione took matters into hand. Literally. She took my hand and led me over to the couch and told everybody else to sit and relax.

"Care for a drink, Hank?" It was Harry.

"Um sure." I could really have used a beer, but decided whatever would be great. Mom's 'gracious guest' phrase kept sticking in my head.

"We've got tea, some…"

"Hey Harry, I think this occasion calls for something a little more, shall we say, powerful?" I looked at the red-haired guy with one ear. George, that was it, George. He pulled out a small flask and waggled it around.

"George Weasley!" The older red-haired woman sitting in the corner did not look pleased.

"Aw Mum, we're all of age." George looked slightly irritated, but somehow he didn't look entirely truthful.

Ok, his comment cemented the fact that the older red-haired woman was George, Ginny and Ron's mother. That made sense.

"Butterbeer would fine for me." Ron looked sheepishly towards the other women, and when nothing happened immediately he broke in "Butterbeers it is then."

-ooo-

After a couple of butterbeers and polite conversation about Hogwarts I began to relax a bit. The people were all very nice, and since I had established that all of the red-haired people were related, there was just Neville and an older woman who were probably not Weasleys or Potter/Weasleys. While thinking about how big the house must be that would hold everybody, the elder of the red-haired men walked over and sat down on the couch next to me with a look on his face like it was Christmas morning.

"So Hank, you're a Muggle?"

"Arthur!" Molly, sitting on a chair across the room, had a mortified look on her face. I noticed that everyone else in the room was grinning.

"Um, yes, I guess so. Neville told me on the way to Hogwarts that you call people who aren't magical Muggles, and if that's true then I'm probably about the biggest Muggle you'll ever meet."

"Extraordinary!" Arthur took a drink of his butterbeer. "So tell us about yourself. How did you get here? I'm sure that's a fascinating story!""

Crap. I knew this moment was going to come eventually. At least here it was a small group. Neville had told me that the people at this dinner party were his closest friends and I could be myself tonight. Small comfort, but at least this wasn't an auditorium full of people. "Ok, I guess I'll give it a shot. My name is Hank Boyd, and I'm an adjunct instructor of literature at a small college in Virginia. My full name, which I never use, is Henry Aaron MacDonald Boyd; I'm named for my father's favorite baseball player and my mother's maiden name. Obviously they compromised on the name, but whenever I have to fill out any paperwork they never have enough room for all of my names. I've been Hank for as long as I remember, so please just call me Hank."

I took a quick drink of butterbeer. "The question I know y'all all wondering is how I got here, though, and sometimes I'm not too sure myself. I was in Washington, D.C. last spring for a literature conference and sat in on a presentation called 'Making Magic Real: The Literature of the Fantastic.' I hadn't planned on attending but the professor who was going to go decided that it was more up my alley, and since I was going to focus on fantasy literature for my next paper he gave me his place. Besides, I think he wanted to go golfing. Anyway, it worked out perfect for me because later that evening I was going to a formal dinner and dance with my…" I stopped a minute and lowered my eyes, took a deep breath, and then took a large drink of butterbeer. "I was going to a dinner and dance thing with my girlfriend. It was her company's big event and they were having it in D.C. Since it was formal, and I didn't have time or anyplace to change before the dance, I went kilted."

"Excuse me." It was the older lady. "Did you say that you were kilted?"

I know I must have been smiling at that. "Yes, I was. MacDonald through my mother. I thought I recognized your accent. You're Scottish, right?"

She smiled. "Yes. My last name is MacGonagall. Please continue."

After another drink of butterbeer I decided to keep going. I knew I was going to need more before the night was through. Maybe something stronger. "Right. So I have my tie and my jacket in the car and I'm at the conference wearing my kilt. It usually attracts attention and stupid questions, but after I took my seat a guy sits next to me that drew most of the attention away from my kilt. I haven't seen a lime green leisure suit in years, and even then I've never seen anyone wear sandals with one. He sat down and began asking me some questions and I began wondering if this guy was a mental patient or just one of those weird professors that every university seems to have on staff. The presentation started and it was pretty interesting, talking about how some sci-fi and fantasy authors are exploring the possibilities of the scientific theory of magic, and whether or not magic actually exists, stuff like that. Before I know it the presentation is over and Mr. Leisure Suit is hanging around, looking like he wants to start talking. From his previous questions I could tell from his accent that he's Scottish. I've been researching my family history, and I've always wanted to travel to Scotland, so I decide to see if he wants to go get a beer. After all, I've got a couple of hours before I have to pick up…" I looked at everybody, noticing their rapt attention. Great. Compound my heartbreak. "…Janine. So we head over to a local watering hole and have a few beers."

Harry had obviously noticed my butterbeer becoming rapidly empty as he walked over and handed me another one. I thanked him and took a swig.

"I start asking him questions about Scotland, especially the western highlands, and he's telling me great stories, but I wonder if he's about thirty beers ahead of me. He's talking about stuff that I've never heard of, and I've done quite a bit of reading. He asks me if I'm related to Magnus Dent-Head MacDonald, but I haven't been able to get my family tree back to Scotland yet so I really can't give him an answer. He then asks me a bunch of questions, about stuff that is really odd. I chalk it up to him being another whacked-out academic and tell him that I have to leave. He tells me that he'll buy me lunch at the conference tomorrow if I wouldn't mind answering some more questions, especially about my literature courses and the conference topics. I figure it's a free lunch, so why not."

I shifted in my seat a bit and took another drink of butterbeer. Fuck it. Spill it. Do you good. Go for it. "I'll pick up the next day at the conference. He finds me right away and starts talking then he stops, because he can tell I'm all messed up. He motions for me to sit in the hotel lobby chairs and I tell him what happened."

"What happened? OW."

"Honestly, Ron, you are so rude."

"Well I'm interested, Hermione."

"Be nice, Ronald."

I smiled at the couple. "It's ok. Really. What happened was that we went to the dinner and dance, which cost me over $900 for everything, and after dessert Janine tells me that she doesn't think things are working out anymore. That it's not me, it's her; that I'm a really nice guy but she doesn't think our lives are moving in the same direction and it would be better if we just didn't see each other anymore."

"Ouch, mate." George gave a low whistle. "After you shelled out all the money, too."

"Tell me about it." I looked and saw sympathetic faces all around. "We'd been together for two years. She'd gone from the bottom of her company to the medium-level pretty quickly. I guess I just wasn't rich or young or successful enough for her. She's 10 years younger than I am."

"Women."

"George Weasley, I will…"

"Lighten up, Mum. It's a man thing."

That's when I noticed Ginny and Hermione looking at their spouses. Harry and Ron studiously drank their butterbeer and avoided looking at their wives. "Right. So Mr. Leisure Suit, or, um, Dr. Telephus Dante, proceeded to tell me that the rest of the conference was bollocks and that what we needed right then was a drink. Even though it was around ten in the morning I wasn't going to argue, so we ended up back at the bar we were at the day before. For the rest of the day. Somewhere around mid-afternoon Dr. Dante looked at me like he'd just discovered electricity. He tells me to wait for him, he'd be right back after he owled somebody. I only remembered the part about 'owling' later, though. I'd had enough Guinness and scotch not to care what he said, so I didn't move except to use the facilities and bum few cigarettes off some old guy. Eventually he came back looking all happy and asked if I have an eleckeltronical mail address. Seriously, even as gone as I was I remembered that part. I give him my email address and after another couple of rounds I figured that nothing good was going to happen that day and so I caught a cab back to the hotel."

"The hotel?" Ginny looked at me quizzically.

"Yeah. The really nice one I rented for Janine. I had planned on staying the weekend in D.C. so I wasn't due to check out until Sunday. I don't remember much after getting to the hotel, and I woke up the next day feeling like week old garbage. Eventually I checked out of the hotel, fought the traffic and went back to my little house in Virginia and holed up for a couple of weeks. I wasn't teaching any classes that semester so nobody said anything. Then about a week or so ago I got an email, asking me to attend a meeting in D.C., and it's from Dr. Dante. The meeting was scheduled for a Saturday, so at least traffic wasn't horrible. I drove up to the address and was in a sushi place that's pretty good, so I figured at least I could get some good sushi out of the meeting."

"What's sushi?" Ron looked at Hermione.

She looked exasperated. "I'll tell you later. Now be nice and listen."

I smiled slightly at Hermione. "Dr. Dante was there and so were two other guys. One guy looked like he could be a linebacker for a pro football team and the other guy…well, actually, he looks a lot like you." I nodded towards Arthur. "Dr. Dante laid it all on table, then. There's an offer, but first he asks me some questions. Things like if I've ever had a gut feeling about something one way or another without being able to explain it, stuff like that. Noticed things out of the corner of my eye. I told him that I had, but I just chalked it up to intuition. He looked at the other two guys and when they nodded he launched into it; the offer was a teaching position at a school in Scotland and it would be an exchange program of sorts. There's a teacher in Scotland who would come over to the U.S. but wouldn't be at my school. There'd be no official record of it. I looked at the big guy and he took out a little stick and then all of the sudden I couldn't hear anybody else in the sushi place.

"Ah yes, Kingsley takes control of the situation as always. I remember when..."

"GEORGE!'

"Mum, I…"

Molly looked at me and smiled. "Please do continue, dear."

"It's no problem. So the big guy, Kingsley is it? Tells me about how the magical world exists all alongside the Muggle world. That I might have some magical blood way back in my bloodline. That the offer is strictly a one-time thing, and that if I don't agree that I'll never remember the conversation, so I figured what the hell. What does my life have going in it that I really want to stay? Besides, it would mean a free trip to Scotland. I agreed, and the red-haired guy brought out some paper and a quill and he acted very official-like. A real quill, like they signed the Declaration of Independence with. The red-haired guy started going into stuff like 'party of the first part' and 'magical contract' and stuff. I signed the contract with the quill and, um, Kingsley told me to get all of my stuff packed and that I would receive further instructions by owl, and if I say anything to anybody that there were protections in place that I really don't want to know about."

I took a deep breath. So far, so good. "So I packed my stuff, told my parents and my brothers and sister that I'm going to Scotland to travel, write and research for a year. They knew about Janine dumping me, so they didn't say anything much. A freaking real, live owl banged on my kitchen window the next morning with a little letter tied to his leg and after a few moments I realized that I was looking at airline tickets to London. There was also an itinerary and the contact information for Neville." I nodded at Neville, who smiled back. "I made it through security, slept on the plane, woke up in England, met Neville, took the train and we did something with powder that got me to Hogwarts. That was all a little over ten days ago, and now I'm here.""

"Floo"

"What?"

Arthur grinned at me. "It's called the Floo Network. We'll explain later."

"Thanks. I'm sure that y'all will have to do a lot of explaining. One question, though. I went to iron my shirt for tonight and I couldn't find an electrical outlet at Hogwarts."

Arthur's eyes went wide. "Do you mean a plug?"

"Yeah, a plug."

Arthur thrust his hand into his pocket and pulled out the ends of an ancient extension cord. "Here, have one of mine. You can never have enough plugs."