17. Cauldron

Two scarab beetles, five grams of ginger root and nine drops of armadillo bile later, Emily leant over her cauldron and sniffed at the concoction inside. It smelt foul, like a mixture of dirty laundry and dragon dung, or more like that Hufflepuff that made a habit of picking his nose in Transfiguration. Badgers were so weird.

“Eeeeeeewwww,” the first year exclaimed, scrunching up her nose in distaste.

“Professor! I'm not drinking this... besides, if I was any wittier it'd be a crime.”
The dark brown haired girl sat on her high stool, her arms folded against her chest.