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Zacharias Smith (unspeakableness) wrote in finnigans_rpg,

"Hah. Not exactly," Zacharias said, giving Ernie a small smile. He kept his arm still as Ernie performed the spell, idly wondering about how, exactly, it worked and who invented it. Obviously it was magic, so it worked with magic, but he found there was always more to a spell than waving it off simply as magic. Maybe one day he'd look into healing magic more, even if he didn't think it'd help him be able to do more than rudementary healing. But that's why they had healers and medi-wizards and witches; someone had to be able to help those who couldn't do it themselves.

"Fuck," he muttered as he heard the diagnosis. Of course it would be broken. Of fucking course. He kept his temper under control and said, "Can't dance very well with a broken wrist." And he doubted he could cling to the wall tomorrow night, either. "But alright. I won't move," he told Ernie, again keeping his arm still. Doing so brought back memories of Quidditch and how dangerous it could be, and about how he'd taken a blow from a bludger during practise on year. He'd sworn it'd been done on purpose, though he kept his silence while Madam Pomfrey looked him over.

He kept his silence about a lot of things.