Why did they have to make this ice stuff anyway? There was enough of it outside for Marisol's taste.

"Orkeedeeos Steereeacos!" Mari said. Her wand coughed out a couple thorns. Then a wilted ice-rose. Maybe she was going about this the wrong way. At Ollivander's, her wand had produced a heap of daffodils of its own accord. Could she channel that into icy foliage? Work with the wand?

"Orkeedeeos Steereeacos!" Marisol closed her eyes. She envisioned a pile of transparent, ice-cold daffodils falling delicately into the snow. Mari opened her eyes hesitantly. One daffodil lay in a sea of white, almost drowned. Not her expectations, but it would certainly do.