At the mention of mud wrestling, Ursula can't help but feel a small burst of pride. It was a well-earned week of detention, even if she hadn't actively participated in the dirty event herself. Maybe next time. (There was bound to be a next time with how often their classmates wistfully spoke of the event.) Too bad it probably wasn't something she could bring up to Mr. Hightower to argue her case for being entrusted with event committee next year. But event committee power struggles were something to worry about later, when the site of so many dances wasn't being overrun by aurors and emergency healers.

"Yes, something exactly like that. And if they're rotten, what's a bunch of fourteen year olds compared to-" she cuts herself off, because it might be true, but all she really feels she can complain about right now is a long nap in an odd location. Not when there's mysterious lingering headaches from mines that she's never heard about. She hopes Ferdie will get it checked out before they leave. "Well, I'm sure you'll find creative ways to discipline offenders. No one leaves detention until someone actually wins Monopoly?"