#bhptitsy

Daisy was not doing well in Potions. There, she said it. She’d been fine on her OWLs, gotten an EE, which was perfectly fine, but she hadn’t expected NEWT-level potions to be so hard.

Now, one was probably wondering why Daisy did not just ask Toulouse, who was practically a savant at potions for help. And the reason was simple. Daisy was embarrassed. She was always practically perfect in every class, and usually if she needed help, it was something particularly difficult that she did not feel ashamed asking for help. But it was the end of the term and quite frankly, Daisy had spent too long pretending to know what was going on and right before finals, it was all catching up to her.

Thankfully, she’d spoken privately the Professor Prydain, who had thankfully always been kind to his House, and he arranged for her to meet with a tutor.

She was seated in dungeon three, with her books and her cauldron and her kit of ingredient, brows furrowed, trying to figure out what exactly Golpalott’s Third Law was saying exactly.

Daisy heard footsteps approaching and she glanced up shyly, but then her brows knit together when she saw who it was. Hogwarts was not a terribly big school and she knew all about the hot-headed Gryffindor who just walked in.

“Excuse me,” she hissed. “This room is reserved.”

@newspaperburritos-forbreakfast