Skilmer studied his tortoise intently, then picked up his wand. I can't see any dis-improvement it'd make. He muttered the spell slowly and carefully. Maybe too slowly. The untouched turtle had lumbered to the other side of the desk, and though his inkpot did make an interesting goblet, he changed it back and tried again--on the turtle this time.

Loral sat with an almost-perfect teacup on her desk (the handle was an ugly shade of green, and there was the faintest hint of scales on its sides), changing it back to a turtle and then again to a cup for boredom's sake.

Ginger tried to concentrate without thinking on turning her tortise into a cup. After a few tries, she was doing a lot better; at least, it was white and the handle had stopped wiggling.