It was an unfortunate truth that Charity was not at the top of her class in Potions. Sure, she was not bad, but it took only three Potions classes at the beginning of the year to understand that some students were simply better than other. She was no Lincoln Dashwood, who she'd watched in more than one class make a potion twice as fast as her. She'd considered passing on the competition, but it was at her dorm-mate's insistence that she put her name on the list outside the potion master's office.
Now she was regretting it. Just a smidge.
She did her best to brew the assigned potion, glancing over to the desk at the person nearest to her more than once. She took her time, trying to remember each step. Only twice did she stop and stare a her cauldron, trying to remember if she should stir it just once more, but then finally it was over and all she could do was wait to be judged.
Now she was regretting it. Just a smidge.
She did her best to brew the assigned potion, glancing over to the desk at the person nearest to her more than once. She took her time, trying to remember each step. Only twice did she stop and stare a her cauldron, trying to remember if she should stir it just once more, but then finally it was over and all she could do was wait to be judged.
