"How about lining for a puppy bed then?" Quentin pretended like that was an option. And then heaved a sigh. "Well, I suppose that I ought to just mark them and get on with it." He didn't mind the marking so much with the Sixth and Seventh Years, who often had a lot of clever things to say. And some of the First Years were just hilarious in their randomness. It was those middle years!
Quentin shrugged his shoulders. "Well, most of us are not a perfect match for our Houses." The Sorting Hat had contemplated Slytherin for him as well, because of his ambitions and what not, before plonking him down in Ravenclaw - which he had been quite pleased with.
"I think that list is not in the right order," he laughed as he took another swallow of Butterbeer. "I think he'd rather be somewhere near the top. After me, of course," he winked.
He glanced at the clock then and heaved a sigh. "But I sadly must be heading back. Have to get Mops in my quarters and then get ready for dinner duty."