And so instead she read the letter, sending up a shower of golden sparks that vanished into her skin and breakfast, marking her forever as a muggleborn in need of marriage. Instead, she sank into her chair, mouth filled with sand, as she read and reread the lines of neat script that told her she was an undesirable match, magically speaking, and so the Ministry would be arranging a marriage  for her. (This, the letter assured her primly, was to ensure magical children were created and conceived, and had the added bonus of ensuring she would not steal magic from anyone else.) 