Helga usually found humor in most things; it was necessary for being a debutante, where men said all sorts of unfunny things that she was expected to laugh at. This time, there was no humor. Her face fell, her frown hidden as she stood behind Henrietta, holding her wand up to cast a drying spell. It did not take long before Henrietta was dry, but from the touch of her skin she was still cold, and Helga had never mastered the warming charm on people.

"I don't think that's... normal," she said quietly, privately fearing for her friend's reaction. Nobody wanted to hear that they weren't normal, but in this case it was a necessary truth. "Magic is meant to be something we use, not something that uses us. It's why we have wands: for control."

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