The smell of smoke hung thick in the air of your Potions class despite it having been aired out multiple times since Finnigan’s latest incident. You scrubbed, determined, at a particularly stubborn spot of ash on the wall as Seamus did the same on the other side of the room. You two had been given detention together after class by Snape: Seamus, for blowing up his elixir, and you, for supposedly helping him do it. The Professor would hear none of your complaints and ordered you to wash the classroom—without any spells. So you were stuck with a pail and sponge, soapy water soaking through your uniform as you kneeled on the floor like a Muggle, cleaning.

“This is ridiculous. One Scouring Charm would ‘ave this place spick an’ span faster ‘n you could say Professor Snape is a troll,” Seamus said.