On the couch next to him, the stout Caius Bulstrode had been repeating the ingredients of a potion to Caleb Fogg, a boy with straw-colored hair and a prominent nose, for twenty minutes, but he kept forgetting them. They were both tall and overweight. Looking at them clumsily lying on the couch, they resembled large overturned turtles, but standing up, they were as big as two wardrobes. The first a Pureblood, the second a Muggle-born, were living proof that sometimes blood was not synonymous with guarantee. Caius was powerful in the Dark Arts and in attacks in general, but Caleb was strong in everything else and also particularly patient, so much so that he accepted to give him daily tutorials.