"I can write Renée, she knows some first aid and might know if it's a charm or what."
"That sounds good!" Pause. "How quickly can broken bones be mended by magic, in general?"
"It depends on how badly it's broken. Not that long, though, like a few minutes if it's only breaks and nothing worse."
She puts some more food in her mouth and chews on it thoughtfully. "I'm now considering breaking something just to see if I can morph it better," she says. Then something else occurs to her. "Metamorphmagi live just as long as regular wixen, though, don't they?"
"Wixen in general treat injury pretty casually - you'll notice that we fly without helmets, even the Quidditch players who have angry balls actively trying to kill them - so you are not likely to have to deliberately break something to find out what the deal is."
"Hmm, I think if we could just Transfigure injuries away, we could probably Transfigure old age away, right? I mean, otherwise Metamorphmagi would be immortal, and we wouldn't live to 140 we'd live to always. Unless there's a cultural thing against immortality? ...a very, very strong cultural thing, that would make literally every wix who has ever lived not want to Transfigure themself youth and health?"
"There, uh, kind of is a cultural thing. You-Know-Who wanted to cheat death and if it were that easy he probably would have done it even though he wasn't a Metamorphmagus. ...Well, I guess just being young and healthy wouldn't have stopped somebody from killing him, he didn't actually live to a hundred and forty even, but still."
"And, er, I don't know if I can turn into a five-year-old. I've never really tried. It feels like I should be able to, if I can turn various parts of my body into animal parts I see no reason why I shouldn't turn into a five-year-old. But well, I guess I ought to try this not-here, maybe in the shower when I won't have robes getting too large—and too small, I'll definitely try to go all grown up."
"I'm not sure what the attitudes before him were except that they didn't result in commonplace immortality. I'll be interested in your experimental results though."
They have Herbology together, which is nice. Today they will be harvesting seeds from Singing Mustard.
The wizarding world is an endless string of wonders.
She spots more movement than she expects plants to be capable of over there but is ushered further inside too quickly to really see what that was.
"Are there plants that can, like, move?" she asks the non-muggleborn witches.
"Sure," says Karen. "Like, most of them can't pick up and walk, but a lot of them can wave around. There's a tree on the grounds that will hit you if you get too close, it's called the Whomping Willow, don't go near it."
"Huh," she says. "Most of them? So are there any that can in fact pick up and walk?"
"Runner beans, that I know of, maybe there's more, Professor Sprout will know."
Class continues happening. While it's happening, Sadde has that abstracted, thoughtful look on her face that she usually has when she's about to suggest things like breaking bones on purpose just to see if she can morph them better.
"Did you think of something bizarre to do with singing mustard, Sadde?"
"Not as such, no," she says. "I'm just thinking about whether plants that can move hate me as much as most animals do."
"I have absolutely no idea!" she says brightly. "They just do. I have no scars to prove it because those I know I can morph away, but if I couldn't I'd have lots! I think the only reason Richard doesn't hate me is because all the other owls in the shop seemed to want to pick on me as much as they picked on him. We're kindred sooouuulllssss."
"Well, then I guess it depends, whether the plants will hate you too, but if you smell weird or you're loud or something then plants which can't smell or hear might like you fine."
"I don't think noise level is as constant a part of me as the number of incidents with animals in my life would imply. Scent might be it." She steals a glance at the corner where she saw movement from. All seems quiet. "I think I wanna test that," she whispers.