January 11th, 1895; Afternoon — A Classroom

Her marks were adequate. She knew that. Embarassingly, her sister-slash-guardian knew that. Regina Pendergast was a beacon of proper comportment, was diligent in her art and music classes, and had found she had a bit of a nack for herbology, for all that she felt wrong putting herself in a positon to get muddy. After the incident in the summer, however, G had been satisfied to simply know she was a witch, had developed a bit of a fear of actually doing magic.

She would, of course, take this to her grave.

Oh, it was nothing so bad as Miss Wallace, who had quickly begun to grate with her reluctance to even be at the school, but it was causing problems nonetheless—namely, with her grades in the more practical subjects. Transfiguration Regina mostly fumbled through, as it seemed to have little opportunity for explosive consequences. Charms, though, had proven to be a particular obstacle, to the point that the professor had tasked a poor OWLs-level student with the task of catching her up.

(Or at least trying).

Merlin, she hated being made a burden.

"...truly, I'm sure there are things you'd rather be doing on a Saturday afternoon."

The Hufflepuff's protestations were soft, accompanied with an apologetic smile. She had done alright with the lumos of it all, lighting her wand tip (albeit feebly) to her tutor's satisfaction. Incendio, however, was something altogether different. How could she be certain to cast only enough flame to light the candle?! What if she set the curtains on fire—or worse, her tutor? And why should she even need to light a candle when she had a wand that she could (mostly) light?!

G would have much rather been off with Stella and Mo or any of her other friends, far away from practical wandwork.

Open to an academically-inclined student in years 3-5.

  

Hettie wasn't normally the tutoring type. She could barely stand to sit inside with her own books and study properly, and that showed in her marks for History of Magic more than anywhere else. She listened... enough. Exceeded no expectations. Here, though, in the realm of active wand-work, Harriet Bythesea demonstrated a competence which could only be attributed to excitement. She thrived, whenever they let her put her hands to something. Whenever the wand came out. So on paper, she made a competent tutor for a wayward first-year struggling with the actual casting of spells. Whether she had the temperament for teaching remained to be seen.

"Naturally there are," Hettie waved a careless hand at the girl, spinning her wand idly between the fingers of the other. She looked frightened, but Hettie couldn't imagine by what. A little glow at the tip of her wand? Ridiculous. No one was ever hurt by a little Lumos charm. "But I'm not doing them, am I? The Professor asked me to be here, so here I am." Hettie shifted where she sat, brushed some of her curls out of her face. Her hair never stayed tied long. She would have to re-bind it in an hour or two.

"So?" she pressed with a crooked little smile and pointed with her head toward the candle sitting, innocent and unlit, on the desk. "Go on. You know the incantation, there's nothing left but to try it."

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