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Usually Wren thought just looking at the Whomping Willow was tiring. If he was a plant, he certainly wouldn’t pick one that had to move. But his annoying older cousins were practicing with plants at Wren’s usual reading spot by the greenhouses, so Wren was relocating. By the screeching that was going on not far away though, this was going to be no better a place. Dunce, Wren's orange tabby cat, decided that the screeching warranted exploration. Soon, she found a girl and bowtruckle and put a paw on the book, mewing pitifully.

”Ignore her bullshit, she’s been fed,” Wren said, appearing not far behind. Dunce was now staring up at the bowtruckle with wide eyes, watching the little creature. Wren gave his housemate a lazy wave before pulling a puzzle box back out of his pocket and apparently turning his attention to that.

Aspen Hill was...well, Wren seemed to get along with her anyways. Brilliantat herbology and all things plant-- and this bowtruckle was just another indication of that. He’d considered getting her opinions on useful garden plants, but had been too lazy to actually ask. She always got potions ingredients for him when he told her to though. And she always passed the pepper or dishes at feasts. He had wondered last year if she might make a good fetch minion. Like a house elf, but much prettier. Then over the summer he’d been found out that house elves weren’t the only magical creatures that followed directions. ”Hey Aspen, since you’re here, I wanted to test a theory. Hand me that book.”

”Dunce,” Wren replied, watching his cat and Aspen’s bowtruckle get along. ”What she is anyways.” Dunce mewed in response the bowtruckle’s screeching and blinked when he wandered up her nose. After a moment of confusion, Dunce seemed quite alright with the creature sitting on her head and went back to walking around, searching for food.

Wren made silent note of the smile he’d caught--the dropped smile could mean any number of things, but if she wasn’t telling him to leave, then he wasn’t going to worry about it. He raised an eyebrow when she insisted he not lose her page. ”Oh just that? Sure, stay right there. Don’t move. Tell me about yourself. What’s your mum like? You know, because I know your dad already.”

He took a few steps away as he spoke, until he was well out of kicking reach but not too far to talk. With a glance at the page number, he listened carefully to whatever Aspen had for him and made sure she hadn't moved to follow before moving on.

”About this book. You don’t mind if I fold the pages right?” He folded the page as though marking it, then paused before ripping it out. ”Or even rip it?” He chucked the book back over. ”Tear a page out yourself.”

Very natural. That could mean she’s a nymph…. Or just an herbologist. Still nothing concrete; for all he knew, she could just be cooperative. And from the careful eye he was keeping on how she moved after being told not to--probably that. In an instant she was rushing over, smacking him with the book.

”Oww” he whined, more pathetically than he meant. ”Alright, jeez you don’t have to get all violent about it.”he muttered, snatching the book away before she could hit him again. He lined the torn page carefully back up to its proper spot before pulling his wand out and muttering a familiar ”Reparo.”.

He glanced up and to find Aspen’s hand on her temple and rolled his eyes. ”Calm down,” he told her, not really registering that it was a command too. ”It’s nothing magic can’t fix.” And after checking the cover for scratches and pulling a bit of dirt off the edge, he handed it back to her. ”I thought you might be half nymph or half elf or something. How boring.”

He moved away again, lest she hit him again.

When it didn’t look like Aspen was going to hit him again, Wren shrugged and went back to apparently fiddling with his puzzle box. He was glad she wasn’t angry at least, but he didn’t think she’s react so...meekly. ”Crazy good with plants, always do what I tell you to even if you’re snarky about it, and pretty. Elves aren’t pretty though.“ He glanced up with an ambivalent sort of stare. ”I assumed you had a nice singing voice, but asking you to sing to a plant wouldn’t have been as entertaining as watching you squirm over your book.”

He glanced up again, and saw her arms crossed. He’d have understood anger, or curiousity at being accused of being half magical creature, but this wasn’t like any of that. Sure he and Aspen hadn’t talked much last year, but Wren paid more attention than the average person seemed to. He just thought he’d stumbled upon something interesting. But Aspen didn’t need to know that, and with a few moments to ponder what her reaction meant, he decided to reply with a small lie instead. ”Maybe not. But maybe I thought you were particularly interesting and wanted to know.”

Wren gave his companion a raised eyebrow as she stuttered over her excuses. Honestly? Good. He had enough singing at home. Granted Sparrow didn’t make plants grow with her singing like a nymph might, but it seemed that his theory had been off anyways. Well...maybe. He scratched Dunce’s ear and nodded at the bowtruckle perched on her. He quite liked bowtruckles after one had bitten August over the summer. Not enough to get one himself, but as a species as a whole was a positive in his book. ….Bowtruckles weren't nymph-exclusive either.

”Yes, but I also don’t see Professor Hill dancing around with flowers in his hair and shy little bowtruckles hanging off him.” Now that image was as amusing as it was unsettling. He yawned a little and dropped the topic in his head. Welp. Guess that was wrong.

Aspen seemed perfectly steel when she rebuked him for throwing wild accusations. But then she looked away. He made a sound a little too much like a snicker--Was she...blushing? Hah! This was too much fun.

”Speaking of flowers in Professor Hill’s hair though, you had these really cool flowers that bloomed green when you were sorted into Slytherin.” He assumed that the regular flower or twig in her hair was just plant aesthetic, but that particular incident stuck out. There were robes and clothes and he’d even found hair clips that turned the sorted color, of course, but he hadn’t found living things that changed like that. If that wasn’t nymph magic, then it had to be a kind of magic he could do. It’d be cool to build something like that. Like a living, growing puzzle box. ”That just growth potion and a green flower then I guess? You were just that sure you were going to be in Slytherin, huh.”

Wren had moved past his failed theory and assumed by her flustered response that Aspen had dismissed it all together as well. He figured she was now going to explain advanced growth potions or special color-changing flowers, and then he'd tease her about testing growth potions on giant spiders. So, he was rather surprised when she got upset at him again. "Shutting up, jeez" he muttered. Aspen had such strange reactions. First she didn’t get angry at him for messing with her book, but now she did get angry when he asked about growth potions and being in Slytherin? Or was it the flowers in her dad’s hair comment? Because that was still hilarious.

Aspen mentioned a secret and he stopped wondering and just listened. Secrets were fun. Why she was telling him a secret now was confusing, but it’d be dumb to interrupt. She picked a droopy flower, and without a word or spell, revitalized the flower. The petals seemed to regain color and furl out, as perfect as though it had never been dying. He took the offered flower with an expression of part wonder and part confusion and barely heard her threat before blurting, ”So I was right?”

Wren was trying to figure out why he had rejected the theory when Aspen seemed convinced that he’d confirmed it. The sudden frown when he first started the experiment stuck out. Then the sudden meekness after hitting him with the book. And then the agitated confession. The direct commands thing hadn’t worked? But she was still worried about him being a bossy prat? Hand it over. Yes. Stay there. No. Tear a page. No. Calm down, it was just a book. No. Wait. Maybe.

"So you don't have to listen. But...calm down still counted, didn't it? For a while at least?” he muttered. That was...a lot more powerful than he’d thought if commands could downright affect their emotions. This was supposed to be a controlled experiment with a book that he could fix and commands that either happened or not, not messy feelings and maybe commands. It made him feel like he had discovered some weird form of Imperious Curse that was just always there, which was...awesome, but also terrifying. He'd have to think of edge cases all over again to further test. What a pain this had all become.

Abruptly, he glanced around, making sure they were indeed alone. Aspen was rambling about getting good grades in Herbology now, and he would have laughed at how quickly she’d turned to ranting if he wasn’t still bitter about giving up the theory when he apparently had it right. Or reeling about what kind of power this nymph thing actually meant.

Wren brushed off the comment on his character as he had the comments about him being a prat or arse or whatever. He had heard plenty of that kind of thing back in his few years in elementary school, and occasionally their house elf Hobby mentioned sourly that ”Young Master Wren is being a jerk.” Wren didn’t much care about what people thought of him, it didn't escape him that Aspen hadn’t seemed very upset when she said it this last time; in fact, she seemed quite gentle as she picked up her bowtruckle.

”I won’t tell anyone,” Wren told her quietly, remembering another unpleasant secret. Last time he had confided a secret, it had turned out very poorly and not at all the way he'd thought. "About your bloodline. Or..the other thing. So don't kick my face in or whatever."

Wren scowled and looked down again, at the renewed flower in one hand and the unsolved puzzle box in the other. He’d solved the box earlier, but he couldn’t put it back together, which frustrated him as much as not being able to solve it. Just like this theory. He sighed in exasperation. He didn't like this game anymore. It wasn't fun when he didn't know what he doing. "Or do, whatever. Secrets are no use to me if everyone knows. Besides, who would I tell?”

Wren listened carefully as Aspen explained, expression annoyed and upset, but mind whirling as he tried to put everything she was saying together. She mentioned resisting commands, then emotion commands -- the maybe command-- she’d never tried it. ”We cou--” he barely got the thought formed when Aspen definitely cut off further experimenting. ”Boo,” he commented, but he left the issue very well alone. Besides, Aspen had been more than entertaining for the afternoon, and more than cooperative with her answers. Another time he could convince her it was for the betterment of her understanding of her own magical circumstances. But for now he had done quite enough.

Aspen seemed at least somewhat relieved when he assured her he wasn’t about to blab. No less violent or threatening or feisty, but he thought he still noticed a bit of a relief in her tone. Maybe. Aspen never seemed to react how he thought she would. It was...interesting. Frustrating, but also interesting.

Aspen brought up Moira and Wren gave it a second’s consideration: Yeah, that made sense. He did confer with Moira a lot. And there were schemes they could do that might be quite entertaining with this knowledge..but he'd said he wouldn't tell, so he didn't plan to. Wren shrugged.

Speaking of Moira though, that reminded Wren of another thing he knew about Aspen: she didn’t like spiders. He agreed. If he wasn’t so fond of Moira, he would have found Rosie disgusting. ”Speaking of, did you sleep on the couch last night?”