"Gluten?"

Sadde sporfles.

"It's a bunch of proteins in some kinds of food like bread and stuff and I think it makes you fat? Or can do something with your intestines? I don't know, I just know that almost everything back home had to be gluten-free and it just doesn't taste the same."

"Oh, that sounds frustrating."

She nods enthusiastically. "It is!"

"I do a lot of the cooking at home," Miranda says, "so mostly we have whatever I want, which is nice."

"She has this magic dish thing with a little hat that makes poached eggs instantaneously! She just, like, put the hat on the eggs, said 'Poach,' and then they were poached, just like that!"

"Mm, poached eggs."

"It does other kinds of eggs too, I just like poached."

"I'm not hardly allowed in the kitchen but I think we have one of those."

"Why aren't you?"

"Mum doesn't like me underfoot and Dad thinks I'd burn myself or something."

"But how could you burn yourself when stuff makes food automatically?"

"It still gets hot? Even here it's being made somewhere else and then put on the tables here, you know."

"Huh. Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why's the food being made somewhere else? Why's it not, I dunno, conjured up?"

"I think food's one of the things you can't conjure for some reason. Professor Flitwick or Professor Robledo would probably know."

"Yeah, you can do water but I never saw anybody just conjure a bowl of pasta."

Sadde blinks. "That sounds like a really arbitrary prohibition. You three have class with Professor Robledo later today, don't you? Can you ask him about it?"

"Sure," Miranda says, writing this down.

"Thanks!" Sadde says brightly.

"You're welcome."

Sadde continues eating. Omnomnomnom.

Nommmm!