"You are speaking of the International Department for the Prevention of Unfair Advantage, Mr. Terrel, and you are, more or less, correct." Curry dropped the ball to the ground at her feet and kicked it lightly. It rolled a couple of yards across the grass. "To be honest, it is not accurate to say that witches and wizards are forbidden from competing in Muggle sports. There are allowances for persons of magical heritage who do wish to compete. However, they must agree to undergo certain spells that, performed upon themselves with the help of wizarding officials, temporarily nullify their magical abilities. If this were not so…"

Professor Curry produced her own wand from an inner pocket of her cloak and pointed it at the ball. " Velocito Expendum," she trilled. She pocketed the wand, and then strolled toward the ball. She kicked it in a casual, offhand manner. The ball virtually exploded off her foot. It shot across the grass and hit the netting of the goal with a sharp smack, belling the netting outward as if the ball had been shot from a cannon.

        "Well, you get the point," Curry said, turning back to the double line of students. "The WizardMuggle Sportsmanship Program is, as you might imagine, distasteful enough that virtually no wizards or witches have participated in it. That is not to say, however, that many witches and wizards do not attempt to circumvent these laws each year, upsetting the fairness of the Muggle sporting world."

        "Madam Curry?" Tabitha said again, raising her hand. "Is it true, then, that the Ministry, and the international magical community, believe Muggles are unable to cope with the skills of the magical world, and that witches and wizards must be hobbled in order to be considered equal with them?"

        For the first time, Professor Curry seemed rather ruffled. "Miss Corsica, that is hardly a discussion for this class. If you wish to discuss the political machinations of the Ministry--"

        "I'm sorry, Madam Curry," Tabitha said, smiling disarmingly. "I was just curious. This being a class devoted to the study of Muggles, I thought we might be planning to discuss the obvious disrespect for the Muggle world that the magical community has shown by assuming them too feeble to deal with our existence. Please forgive my interruption and carry on."

        Curry stared at Tabitha, obviously fuming, but the damage had been done. James heard whispers all around, saw the sideways looks and nods of agreement. He noticed that the Slytherin students were still wearing their blue 'Question the Victors' badges, having pinned them to their gold jerseys.

        "Yes," Curry said curtly. "Well, then. Shall we begin?"

        For the next forty minutes, she led them through drills and ball-handling techniques. James had been unenthusiastic at first, but began to warm to the simplistic nature of the sport. Besides disallowing wands, football apparently demanded that players not even use their hands. The pure silliness of it amused and intrigued James. Few of the students were any good at the sport, which allowed them to approach it without being afraid of getting it wrong. Zane had, of course, played football before, although he claimed very little skill at it. Sure enough, James noticed that Zane didn't seem to be much better at running down the field with the ball than anyone else. As James watched, Zane tangled his feet around the ball and fell over it. The ball squirted out from under him and Zane simply lay there, staring up at the marching clouds with a look of thoughtful grimness on his face.

        Tabitha Corsica and her Slytherins stood in a disdainful huddle in a corner of the makeshift field, one of the footballs lying forlornly in the grass between them. They made no attempt to practice the drills, and Curry seemed to have dismissed them, spending her time near the goal, where students were taking place kicks into the net.

James found that he was enjoying himself. He dug his heels into the grass, eyed the ball lying twenty feet ahead of him, and then charged it. He timed his steps carefully, planted his left foot next to the ball and kicked it solidly with his right. The thump of it leaving his foot was surprisingly satisfying. The ball sailed through a smooth arc and through the reaching arms of Professor Curry, who was acting as goalie. There was a thump and swish as the ball struck the net.

        "Very nice, Mr. Potter," Curry called, breathing hard. Her hair had come askew and hung in loose curls around her thin face. She pushed up her sleeves and bent to retrieve the ball. "Very nice, indeed."

        James smiled despite himself as he trotted to the back of the line.

        "Teacher's pet," Zane muttered as James passed.

        "Nice foot, Potter," Ted called as the class finally headed back to the castle. "We need to work that into the Wocket routine somehow. Sabrina, think of something we can do with that. High-kicking aliens from the planet Goalatron or something. Got it?"

        "Aye, aye," Sabrina called, saluting as she entered the castle gate. "By the way, Captain, you've got grass stains on your bum. Nice work."

        After lunch, James and Zane joined Ralph in the library for a study period. As they unpacked their books and spread them around a corner table, Ralph seemed even more melancholy than usual.

        "What's going on, Ralph?" Zane said, trying to keep his voice low so as not to attract the attention of Professor Slughorn, who was monitoring the library that period. "Your Slytherin buddies tell you your underwear aren't magical enough or something?"

        Ralph looked around cautiously. "I got in trouble this morning with Professor Slughorn."

        "Seems to be going around," James said. "I spent my morning in McGonagall's office getting detention."

"McGonagall?" Ralph and Zane both exclaimed. "You first, then, James. McGonagall outranks Slughorn," Ralph said.

        James told about the ghost the night before, and about being led to the Muggle intruder and the chase that followed.

        "That was you?" Ralph asked incredulously. "We all saw the broken window on the way down to breakfast. Filch was covering it with canvas and muttering away under his breath. He looked like he wanted us to ask him about it so he could rant and rave a bit."

        "Who do you think it was?" Zane prodded James.

        "I don't know. All I know is that it was the same guy I saw hiding out by the forest the other morning. And I think he's a Muggle."

        "So?" Zane said, shrugging. "I'm a Muggle. Ralph's a Muggle."

        "No you aren't. You're Muggle-born, but you're both wizards. This guy was just a plain old Muggle. Although, according to McGonagall, that's impossible. No Muggle can get past the school's Disillusionment Charms."