“Fine,” Trixie drawled again, reaching out to snatch the cards away. They were terrible. Even by her standards, which was laughably low when it came to potions where she simply could not understand the purpose of a calming draught or a sneezing solution when her father had already introduced her to the world of potions to make one suggestible or confuse your enemies.

“You do know he’ll mark your down just for being a Gryffindor anyway, don’t you?”