“It’s huge so I’d say so,” the Ravenclaw replied, glancing up at the Willow and inspecting the size of the trunk. She was sure that that was how you could tell the age, something about the number of rings within the trunk but that involved A. Getting close to the Willow and B. Chopping the poor thing down. It might have been dead set on trying to squish the students but she’d never wish harm on a living creature. “It was definitely here when my parents were so.. at least 20 years old or something but I imagine so much longer than that.” History wasn’t her best subject and she was pretty certain they hadn’t covered the existence of the Whomping Willow in any of their lessons anyway.

“Maybe you didn’t get the tree's good side and that’s why it’s angry.” Perhaps it’s left branches were fuller and leafier and showed off its willowy-ness better?

She’d have to bear with Aurora’s ability to recall the correct wand movement for the spell, it had been a couple of years since she’d learned it and incredibly hadn’t used it as often as she thought she would need to. Not on anything precious anyway that she would have to get it completely perfect and not risk breaking it even more. She squinted down at the camera at what appeared to be a minimal crack but a crack nonetheless. “Maybe? It’s got to be worth a try, right? I can do it if you like?” She withdrew her wand from the holster and awaited an affirmative.

“Hi Bronwen! Can I call you Bronnie?” She preferred cutesie nicknames for no reason other than the way that they rolled off her tongue. As for knowing who she was, Aurora had the luxury of living in a fantasyland of her own which didn’t involve much modern pop culture. Her sister would know who they were though, she’d of probably seen a poster or two when growing up.