do you think sneaking out is ever a problem at hogwarts? like beyond secret passages to hogsmeade for late-night hogsmeade.
imagine there’s this small muggle scottish town not far from hogwarts. just a quick broom hop.
and some especially rambunctious muggleborns start hanging out around there. they sneak out on days no one’s looking for students, quidditch matches and hogsmeade weekends.
sometimes they go to the little movie theater and the workers are always baffled. this town isn’t exactly a tourist spot, but every so often, a group of kids just show up out of nowhere. there’s a core few, but there’s always at least a couple who watch these movies like they’ve never even heard of the concept of the moving picture before. and they just sit there with their eyes wide and these big smiles.
and they always go out to eat after, but never to a restaurant, no. they go to the convenience store and wipe out the junk food and candy aisle. and they carry the leftovers like they’re going into hibernation.
sometimes it’s just a couple of them. they sit at the cafe and the waitresses all eavesdrop on them because they say the weirdest things like “it’s so nice to eat without wax dripping on our heads, eh?” or “you look kind of different under electric lighting. i’m not used to it.”
their only friend in town is the guy who works in the music shop. they hardly ever buy anything, but the guy plays the newest music for them whenever they stop in. he fills them in on new albums and singles that just came out. a few girls ask about one tv show. he doesn’t pry, but once one of the teens told him they just “don’t have access to this stuff”
sometimes they just sit in the park all day, drinking soda and eating candy bars, and just read magazines, with more piled around them.
it’s not that they wish they weren’t at hogwarts or that it’s a prison to break out of. sometimes being surrounded by magic can just be too much. they get homesick for a whole other way of life.
The secret of the wizarding wireless was cracked by students. They spent three evenings a week teaching themselves electrical engineering and physics, messing with cheap little transistor radios whenever they could afford a new supply, simply because they really, really missed cricket and football matches.
(And then someone on the Wizengamot ruled that the reception of Muggle wavelengths had the potential to violate the Statute of Secrecy, so they still technically can’t get cricket and football matches. However, the instruction booklet with a new wireless comes with a stern step-by-step warning not to connect these wires in this order because getting perfect reception of BBC Radio and a selection of Australian sports stations will violate the warranty.)
Every few years, there’s a Muggle-born student who realizes that the basic boil-this charm learned in the first week of school renders the microwave obsolete. They make an absolute killing selling Ovaltine, instant coffee, and bagged tea by the packet—extra if you don’t have a mug already, a little more extra if you want some of the squeezy honey or a little of the fancy Muggle milk that’s been turned immortal by SCIENCE. Aguamenti and Scourgify handle the rest.
When Hogwarts finally lifts the quills-only rule, it makes front-page news because it’s a slow news day and moral outrage sells, even though at that point it’s just a formality. Damn near every Muggle-born student and most of their friends has been using fountain pens on their homework for decades; the teachers who aren’t gluttons for punishment were just tacitly allowing it because it’s a million times easier to read than the blotchy, uneven mess they get otherwise.