"Professor Lissington," Philippa chimed in. She had raised her hand, but had begun speaking before it reached its zenith—never mind waiting to be called upon. "This is the floor. We can simply walk across the floor. If I encounter a dark wizard, I do not believe it prudent to create an icy surface to attempt to flee on."

If this were charms class, Pippa might have understood. Had distaste for it, but understood. The Gryffindor, however, was not an athlete, would not have signed up for the Pan-Magical Games if they were offered during her time at Hogwarts. Without practicality or pleasure or aptitude, the second year regarded the open space in the middle of the room as though it had a bad smell.