The list of complaints had grown a mile long as she fought the free the individual strands of hand from their death grip on each other. She was tired. Her head hurt. She was hungry. Her arms hurt now from holding them up for so long. There was only so much magic could do- yet here she was forty-five minutes later, hair still in knots. Even the music she’d put on wasn’t distracting her from the annoying task anymore. Perhaps she’d call Pansy tomorrow to help her, that’d be better than cutting it off. 