She had signed up for this competition under the influences of that damnable sweet, but Effie felt much less bold than she had then now that she was standing here. The prize value would never hurt, and nor ever would distinguishing herself better in society, but... she did feel rather out of practise at Potions. If she had been better at them, she would have become a healer.

So by the time her Calming Draught had taken shape, she could rather use one herself – Effie was well aware that she had been slower than some, and strands of her hair kept escaping and getting in her eyes, feeling a little flustered from the heat of the cauldron fire and from the strong smell of peppermint. Merlin, she hoped this had been worth the trouble.

---