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.