The Fine Arts of Crafts

The Fine Arts of Crafts

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry was an excellent educational institution, offering many disciplines that aspiring witches and wizards could choose to pursue.

One of these areas of study that had Hermione excitedly pestering Ron to sign up for was Muggle Studies. More precisely, the recent expansion to the class: Arts and Crafts.

It was a very sunny Friday morning that saw two best friends heatedly arguing at the Gryffindor table in the Great Hall, whilst a sumptuous breakfast of treacle tart laid forgotten aside.

“For the last time, Hermione, I don't want to take the bloody class!” Ron was practically shouting to his unrelenting female best friend.

“You have to take it Ron,” Hermione was saying patiently, “chances are, you will be starting work after this year at your dad's department. You have to know about at least something about Muggles.”

“I know plenty enough,” Ron stated boldly, and looked challengingly at Hermione.

He did not intimidate her.

“Alright then, Ron. To prove that you do, I'll ask you a question, and you have to answer it,” Hermione said.

“Done!” Ron was still fired up.

“If you answer right, you don't have to sign up, but if you happen to be wrong, you must enroll,” Hermione explained. “Oh, and you'll have a minute to answer.”

Ron looked a little hesitant, but he agreed to Hermione's terms.

“Are you ready?”

He took a deep breath. “Yeah.”

“What is the purpose of a light bulb?”

The resolve immediately slipped from Ron's features. What was this “light bob” Hermione was talking about? Did it have to do with anything feathery? He had not the slightest idea…

“Thirty seconds, Ron,” came Hermione's voice.

He began to panic. Thinking frantically, Ron decided he would just have to guess.

“Ten, nine, eight…”

“It bakes potatoes!” he shouted hopefully, just as clock reached a minute.

“Good guess, Ron,” Hermione said. “But as it turns out, you know nothing about the Muggle world.”

His face fell.

“So what does a light bob do then, if you are a such know-it-all?” he said defensively.

“You're being very childish, Ron. Taking the class will only help you, it is not as if I'm asking you to haul potato sacks from one end of the grounds to the other,” Hermione said reproachfully. “And for your information, a light bulb is meant to provide light, not be a potato baker,” she added snappishly.

Without another word, Hermione grabbed her book bag and walked out of the Great Hall in a huff, leaving a confused and bewildered Ron behind.

He angrily thought about how wrong Hermoine was about his lack of knowledge. So what!

His resolution about not taking the course crumbled, much like a sand castle in a persistent wind. A nagging voice in the back of his head kept telling him to follow Hermione's advice.

Oh, how he despised when she was right.

Sighing in resignation, Ron made his way out of the Great Hall, and down the hallway to Professor McGonagall's office, where she was responsible for registering the Gryffindor students. Only, he failed to notice the interested gaze of a pair of silvery gray eyes that followed him as he walked out of the Great Hall.

He walked up to the heavy wooden door, inscribed with Professor McGonagall's name. Knocking hesitantly, Ron waited on tenterhooks, split between running away in denial and being man enough to admit he might know about Muggles and signing up to learn more.

Before he could make his mind up, the door opened.

“Mr. Weasley,” McGonagall said sternly. “Can I help you with something?”

“Yes - no. Actually…yes,” said Ron. “I want to enroll in Muggle Studies.”

The Transfiguration professor threw him a calculating look.

“Muggle Studies is full, unfortunately, but there is space available in the new extension of the course - arts and crafts. Would you like to sign up for that instead?”

Ron did not have an inkling about what Arts and Crafts was, but still…

“Yeah. Sign me up.”

“Alright then, Mr. Weasley. If you'll come in my office so you can sign some paperwork and make your enrollment official,” said McGonagall, and turned back towards her desk, as Ron followed in her footsteps.

“Monday morning, class starts with Professor Flitwick. at half past eight. Do not be late.”

“Will do, Professor McGonagall,” Ron agreed, and went off to his classes for the day, hoping that the weekend might be better after such a horrible day.

**

Saturday morning found our luckless hero sleeping soundly in the dormitory. Ron's peaceful slumber was rudely interrupted, when Harry came rushing in, and began shouting for his best friend to wake up.

“Ron, hurry up! We're leaving for Hogesmeade in ten minutes.”

“Leammealone,” Ron mumbled in the pillow. “I'm tired…”

Harry decided the time was right for using his ultimate weapon to get Ron on his feet.

“Either get up now, or I will send Hermione up here,” Harry simply said. “She'll be here in a few minutes…”

An electric shock seemed to run through Ron as he heard mention of Hermione. There was no way he could stand a lecture on the benefits of rising early.

So, jumping out of bed, he put on a pair of jeans and a t-shirt before Harry could say another word.

“Come on then,” he said, running past Harry. “We'll be late.”

Dashing down the stairs, the two friends eventually skidded to a halt in the entrance hall, before running madly to catch the carriages, which were already leaving for the village.

“No running in the halls! And where are your passes!” Argus Filch shouted after them, as Harry and Ron ran through the front doors, and jumped to grab hold of the last carriage, just as it began to move.

“Nice one, mate,” said Ron appreciatively, as the carriage rumbled on, and Filch looked on furiously at them.

**

The atmosphere at the Three Broomsticks was exuberating. Cheers echoed throughout the pub, and toasts were called about anything - however, about every minute or so, a random person was calling a toast to Madam Rosmerta. She was evidently enjoying the attention.

In the meanwhile, Ron and Harry had caught up with Hermione, who was in the company of one Luna Lovegood.

“Hello,” she said dreamily. “You two look very tired.”

“Hey, Hermione, Luna,” Harry acknowledged. “Almost missed the carriages, that's why we're tired.”

“But we bloody caught them!” recounted Ron excitedly. “You should've seen Filch, I thought his eyes were going to pop out for real this time, he was so mad.”

“Harry, did you think that was the best option?” Hermione said. “Honestly, you could have walked here. It isn't far.”

“That's true, Hermione, but it wouldn't be fun,” Harry replied seriously. “Shall we order?”

As if on cue, Madam Rosmerta came up to their table.

“Can I get you anything, dears?”

“Four butterbeers, please,” said Ron quickly. “It's on me.”

“Right, I'll be right back,” said Madam Rosmerta, and turning, she made her way to the bar.

“You're very generous, Ronald,” said Luna easily. “I like that about you.”

He turned slightly red, but he grinned at Luna. “Thanks,” he said.

“So, Ron, Luna and I were just talking,” said Hermione conversationally, “she was just saying she is going to sign up for Muggle Studies.”

Ron glared at Hermione, while Harry stifled a laugh.

“Oh, really? As it happens, I am too. Just signed up yesterday.”

“Are you doing Arts and Crafts, Ronald?” Luna said serenely.

“Yeah, I am, but I have no bloody idea what that is,” he answered.

A suppressed snort of laughter issued from Harry.

“You're saying you have no idea, Ron? It's obvious…you make cards, and carve and glue things…it's actually quite enjoyable.”

“What?” said Ron incredulously “I thought it had something to do, with you know…boring textbooks and stuff”

“Oh, no, it doesn't. Don't worry, I'll help you,” said happily.

Grumpy and frustrated, Ron spent the rest of the day in low spirits, dreading the arrival of Monday.

**

It was inevitable to begin with, but Monday did arrive; expectantly, the weather was gray and gloomy, as rain splattered the windows of the castle.

After breakfast, Ron was to be found walking deliberately as slow as humanly possible to the classroom where Arts and Crafts were going to be held.

Unfortunately for him, Luna came bounding up behind him, and she hassled him to move along faster.

“Ronald, you are a terribly sluggish walker. If we don't walk faster, we are going to be late.”

She prodded him, and even grabbed his hand in an effort to drag him so they could make it on time, but with no avail.

“Luna, why are you so concerned with me making it to class on time? You're the one looking forward to it, not me.”

“Because Professor Flitwick has assigned you and me to work together,” she answered. “The least you could do is show a bit of initiative.”

Ron decided arguing with Luna would not be the best policy, and he resigned himself to keep up to her.

With seconds to spare, they walked in the classroom.

“Ah, just in time,” said professor Flitwick, standing on his usual stack of books behind the desk.

“Now, all of you,” he spoke to the sum of his class, which totaled about ten people, “this is Arts and Crafts. I have been especially chosen to teach this class, because I have vast knowledge and experience in the area. Any questions that occur, you will do well to seek me for help.”

“As this is a new class, out first project will not be difficult. Today, you will be constructing a simple cardboard box. Before we begin, I'll go over the materials.”

“This is a piece of cardboard. It is layers of paper, tightly compressed onto each other to form one thick sheet. You will be using scissors,” he held up the pair in his hand, “to cut the cardboard into pieces. Afterward, the glue,” he pointed to the plastic bottle on the desk,” will be the means through which you put your box together. Any questions?”

Surprisingly, nobody raised his or her hand. “Then, begin, you will have ninety minutes, byt the end of which you must be finished,” said professor Flitwick, and he climbed back on his stack of books, completely obscured by the large tome he began to read, while the students worked.

In the meanwhile, Ron was having unexpected success with cutting the cardboard. For never having had the opportunity to hold a pair of scissors, his cuts were well proportioned and precise. Luna, on the other hand seemed to spend more time watching Ron than building her own cardboard box. She worked much slower, and was evidently very unfocused - but that was a typical condition for her, and nobody seemed to pay attention. Ron was too absorbed in cutting his cardboard.

Eventually, he had cut all the pieces, but something confused him.

“Luna?”

“Hmm?” she said, as she measured a strand of her hair with a ruler.

“Err…what are you doing?”

“Looking for Mollywobbling Bees. They sneak up on you quite suddenly, and a ruler is a sure antidote. If you comb your hair with it, they go away,” she explained matter-of-factly.

Ron looked at her blankly.

“Um…alright. But I was wondering, what is this glue? How are we supposed to use it?”

“Well, Ronald, it is quite easy,” came Luna's dreamy reply. “You take the bottle, and you squeeze. That's all there is to it.”

Ron took the bottle of glue, and looked curiously at the nozzle.

“So I just squeeze?” he asked for confirmation.

“No, before you do that, you have to pint it down,” she corrected him.

“How?”

“Like this, Ronald,” she said and put her hands on top of his around the bottle. Turning it down to make the nozzle come close to the cardboard, she squeezed gently.

The glue came out and spread evenly over the surface, as Luna moved her hands to show Ron how the proper application.

Oddly, he found the whole affair quite amusing.

“Why are you smiling, Ronald?” asked Luna. She still hadn't let go of Ron's hands, but he didn't seem to mind too much.

“Just thinking,” he answered.

“About what?”

“This. I could get used to it. Arts and crafts aren't so bad. At least with you around,” he said.

Luna's face tinged with a slight shade of red.

“Thank you,” she replied sweetly. “I like working with you too,” and inexplicably why, she gave him a peck on the cheek.

The rest of the lesson passed in relative excitement. In the end, Ron and Luna had both made acceptable attempts at making a cardboard box. Professor Flitwick granted them both an E for the class, and dismissed the students.

Walking back to Gryffindor Tower, Ron kept thinking about the Arts and Crafts class. He still thought he ought to hate it, but somehow, he could not muster much energy to do so. It was, dared he say it…enjoyable. Luna only contributed to the experience, but she was still occupying his thoughts for some unknown reason.

He walked through the portrait, and his gaze met Harry and Hermione, sitting and talking on the couch in front of the fire in the common room.

He walked over to his best friends, and sat on the floor, his mind still up in the clouds.

“Ron?”

“Yeah?”

“So, how was class?” Harry asked.

“Glue bottles are so much fun,” said Ron excitedly. “And I just forgot how to use one,” he added as an afterthought, but a devious look had entered his eyes.

“What are you going to do?” said Hermione cautiously.

“I'll go and ask a certain someone, just so she could show me again.”

Without giving either of his friends to answer, Ron gave a mysterious grin, and walked out of the portrait hole.

Arts and Crafts were certainly bound to be interesting this year…

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