Garrison Thwamp had lost count of how many competitions he had judged in his five-score career. As was always the case, however, the potioneer had brought with him a spark of wit to accompany his wealth of knowledge and decided air of haughtiness—after all, he could find his next apprentice in the batch of upper-year students before him

(Stranger things had happened.)

"I expect that this is not the first competition for any of you," he stated matter-of-factly, "and so I shall not waste your time with preamble. You may begin your Hiccoughing Solution!"