Some fights weren’t worth picking, in Demont’s opinion. But his sister was stubborn, and rather than flat out lose, admit defeat, (or be particularly patient,) Naomi slammed her foot into the tip of a casted wand to get in one spell. The other person got their guts knocked out of them and she walked away with a bloody limp, cleaning up after herself until she could get to her brother to try and put her back together, as best he could, before Demont decided it was time to knock on the Hospital Hut’s door.

“Dere is-za hole,” came the biting lilt from his sister behind him, “In my foot.”

Demont was an olive-peach contrast to his chocolate-nutmeg sister, with the tiny and tight ginger-tinted curls grazing his head. He turned a lazy gaze to his sister, leaning on a dead branch she snatched up, “Which” her hand brushed a gesture toward her leg, “I don't feel no more."

On one leg the nylon and hosier was ripped and torn up to Naomi’s knee, but, cuts and bruises were fairly minimal and small, to nearly insignificant. One would almost wonder what she was limping for, but her brother knew.  He laid his response and expression with a carefree perkiness.

"Look,” He shook clean tall boot in his hand, matching one Naomi’s good leg was enveloped in, “boot's fixed."

Oh she gave him a look. Her eyes widened with a harsh curve, and her virid orbs locked onto her brother's stupid gaze, as she reached to cup her leg up with its opposite arm, showing the strange gaping and bloodless hole in her foot, courtesy of her brother. She pursed her lips together, in a sour imitation of her sibling.

He shrugged, earning a calmly tapered glare, from his sister, as she put her foot back down, "I am a goin' to kick you."

"Guess I dunno who’s gonna patch you up next, fi[1] that." There was another trade of smarmy expressions before the door to the hut opened and they instinctively looked up to see the Healer.

1.

for

While being a Healer at Hogwarts lacked much of the adrenaline pumping excitement of being a frontline Auror, it still wasn't boring.  It was kind of like Christmas every day.  When there was that knock on the door, there was no telling what lay beyond it.  A severed hand, an overly-stress pre-OWLs fifth year, a homesick first year. 

Or, apparently, a pair of siblings. 

Tulojow swung the door open and took a quick assessment of the situation.  There were two kids - one had three boots, the other had one boot and a makeshift walking stick.  Tulojow arched an eyebrow at the girl before smiling at her.  "What?  He offered to carry your shoe but not give you a hand?  Come on in." 

With a wave of her hand, Tulojow ushered the two in and over towards the chairs. 

"So.  What, exactly, happened to your foot?"  That was the thing about wizarding architecture.  When buildings were held together with magic, there usually weren't a lot of nails waiting around to be stepped on.  There had to be an interesting (and maybe even amusing) story behind this.

The younger witch pursed her lips smugly as her brother looked away from the healer to study something off in the distance before gripping Transfiguration Weekly from his back pocket, and unrolling it into his hands, "She's just as capable of instigating fights wit' one foot as she is wit' two," he lilted off in a proud and justified manner as he peeled open the front page of the magazine.

Naomi's just pressed her lips together with a dismissive expression, as she craned herself into the hut, with her brother stepping in from behind. She pivoted into the nearest the chair and propped the stick on the arm of it, as her brother slid into the other chair, already reading and turning through the pages of the magazine, content he had nothing to do with the conversation, as his sister hoisted up her shin up to show the healer the eerie hole in her foot.

"See?" she tilted her head carelessly to see the edge of her foot as she wiggled her fingers into the hole, "Dunno how far it goes, he wouldn't let me stick nothin' up it," she said with a preening tone, as if he had ruined some interesting discovery.

The boy turned another page in his magazine with his eyes still focused on the pages of the book.

Naomi fixed her lovat eyes back on the healer, "It was blasted. Bleeding," she strode on didactically, "Went to my brother to fix eet. Stopped the blood. Fixed some marks," then she shrugged her shoulders up and bared her teeth around syllables, "but now der'es 'dis and my leg's numb. Won't move, can't feel--dunno what he did."

As her tone dropped with a lick of bitterness she looked back at her brother, who had finally looked up from his magazine with a narrowed and accusing glance, "You were di' one 'dat stuck yer big foot in a wand," he turned the next page of the magazine rather defiantly, "You must've made a mess of th' curse," he finished with a proud raise of his chin.

His sister pulled her slim form upright in the chair, snaking her long arms together while she returned her brother's look, "If he got beat o-er the head, wit' a stick would you take him fer th' night?" Naomi turned a curious gaze towards the healer, suddenly deciding she'd feel better sharing her injured misery.

Tulojow gave the young Slytherin's foot careful consideration as she listened to various bits and pieces of the story unfold.  It was a fairly typical one - young witches and wizards experimenting with partially developed magical skills.  And, apparently, healing skills. 

It was a good thing whatever the lad had used seemed to have made the leg numb.  Tulojow suspected the girl would be in untold pain if the situation had been any different. 

"So, a curse caused the original hole?"  Tulojow asked, to make sure she'd heard the story right.  "What curse did you use?  Do you recall the incantation?"  Hopefully, they'd be honest.  Tulojow was used to students being a little hesitant to offer an answer, especially if the spell they'd used had been a little outside the approved curriculum. 

Tulojow let out an exasperated sight as she swatted the girl's hand away from prodding at the hole with her finger.  "Just because it doesn't hurt doesn't mean that's a good idea," she scolded.  Chances were slim the kids even knew any curses that had a tendency to spread or continue to cause damage even after the initial injury.  But, until she knew exactly what spell was used, it was always better to be safe.  it was better than the hole spreading to the finger and making it fall off. 

"And, what did you use to fix it?  Does it still look about the same as it did before you tried? Other than the bleeding?" 

"Yes," Tulojow answered, simply, as the girl asked about the likelihood that her brother would stay if she inflicted an injury on him.  "But, he'd also get the most comfortable room and anything he wanted to eat.  So, it probably wouldn't make you feel as good as you'd hope."

"Good idea, bad idea--" Demont churned as the healer swatted Naomi's hand from her foot, "it's a flop game wit' her." His head bobbed with an obvious expression, "She here, isn't she?"

Naomi pursed her lips harshly, still looking at her brother,  "My curse?" she turned to face the healer again, "hit who n' how I wanted," apparently they hadn't pointed out there was a third person involved.

"she picked a fight. Di other guy--"

"Sh--," his sister clicked back a hush at her brother peering down his nose at her. She ignored it before she swiftly turned her calm attention to the healer, "Dey wanted to turn me into somet'in, I t'ink, sounded like bumbled transifguration, movement, or somet'in for blasting?" Naomi hugged her chin to the shoulder at her raised intonation, "It was so slurry and stuttery."

"Still got your foot."

Naomi's curly bangs brushed her cheeks as she took a turn to look down her nose. The sounds truly were nearly indiscernible, she only had the wandwork to go off of.

But at the sound of Tulojow Nadge saying Demony would overnight (if injured) and being spoiled made Naomi's expression creep with delight and her natural pout parted in a generous smile, "Hear 'dat?"  the lighter skinned brothers pressed his lips into a line at the mention of being treated to whatever he liked, but Naomi's voice rang with a whisper of delight,  "Rockin' a cradle?"

As the youngest of their brood, neither the brother nor the sister took to compliments or being doted upon positively. It was a sign of weakness, laziness, and a crack in discipline: like a baby being spoiled rotten and safe in a cradle. If they wanted luxury, they'd get it on their own. It was a matter of pride.

Demont straigtened himself up, "I'm sure Madame Nadge knows how to properly treat any savage thing you do," his sister mouthed a 'ha,' but he moved on matter-of-factly, "but it was a dip," as he composed himself into a scholarly manner, it was clear why he sorted into Ravenclaw, "Sealed all or most of th' wounds, with some comfrey root[1] infused with horsetail extract[2], and mixed with rose bark[3], dry yarrow[4], and boswellia resin[5]."

As the boy opened his mouth again his sister promptly and sourly interrupted, "Why?" She had only used boswellia resin for painkillers, which she never actually cared much for since they dulled the senses.

"Gram--" he vaguely asserted to his sister's annoyance, before moving on, "'den boiled it into a honey[6] mixture, and spread it over the wound." His countenance fell at the edges of his round face,"'suppose to wash wit' a spell, but it just soaked in, after doing most of what it normally does."[7]

"What, for Quidditch?" Naomi injected doubtfully, attempting to hide how overwhelmed she was at the detailed recipe he rattled off. She received a single affirmative nod from her brother, who was choosing to withhold more and more details from her, to her annoyance.

1.	Cuts/Abrasions/Bruise/Sprains
2.	Bone strengthening and fractures
3.	Info here but helps yarrow with bleeding
4.	Helps slow/stop bleeding
5.	For skin care and joint/bone muscle pain
6.	Wounds and other source
7.	It's totally up to you on what went wrong with the spell and/or potion (:, or if anything else was done wrong. Just gave you some sources/stuff to work with if you want to use them!

Tulojow cast the young man a sideways glance as he quipped back.  Whether or not she was here seemed entirely irrelevant to whether or not poking the hole in ones foot was a good idea.  She refrained from pointing out as much as she continued to investigate the injury. 

"So, you were hexing someone and they struck back," Tulojow summarized, making sure she had a solid understanding of the circumstance.  "But, you aren't sure what spell this other person used?" 

With a flick of her wand, she summoned a low stool towards her and slowly took a seat, her knee creaking painfully as she did so.  "If you're at all squeamish, you may want to look away," Tulojow offered in warning.  She suspected that wasn't the case, given the girl's previous fascination with the hole in her foot, but it seemed polite to warn her. 

As the two siblings seemed to find some inner-sibling relevance to the assurance that the brother could stay, Tulojow waved her wand over the girl's foot.  From mid-calf down, Naomi's skin slowly grew transparent, exposing the muscular structures of her lower leg and foot.  Another wave of her wand and the girl's muscles followed suit, slowly fading until they were completely invisible, leaving only the spiderweb-like network of tendons and fascia as well as the underlying bone visible. 

"You certainly aren't required to stay," Tulojow offered the young man since the offer to linger in the hospital hut wasn't exactly well met.  "Or, I could also try harder to make your stay less enjoyable as well." 

"When, exactly, did the numbness start?  Was it numb just after the spell hit it or did it coincide with the salve?" 

Naomi whipped off her answers to the healer, "Yeah, nope," then her voice curled quizzically, "why?"  The dark-haired girl did exactly the opposite of what the healer suggested and tilted her head in admiration of how utterly weird the inside of her leg looked. "Dat hard to do?"

Demont shifted in his seat as he eyed his sister's leg with her equal curiosity, "No, s'fine mam," he answered.

The last question the healer posed to the Slytherin, who raised her brows and hummed a light chuckle, "After th' salve," her eyelids fell and rose to have her gaze focused on her brother, shaking his head ans sighing at her. He wasn't sure if she was laughing because she thought the pain was genuinely funny or if their was something amusingly obvious about what (or who) caused the numbness in her leg.

Tulojow chuckled at the girl's question and offered a slight grin.  "Whether it's hard is relative to the user.  It is a fairly tricky bit of transfiguration, though, and requires a thorough understanding of anatomy."  So, perhaps, it could be considered 'hard.'  But, then, reciting a poem was hard if one didn't know the poem. 

The Healer grew silent for a few moments as she studied the leg closely.  The spell, whatever the caster used, didn't seem to have done any damage to the foot's structure.  The bones and ligaments were still intact.  If anything, they appeared to have been remolded around the shape of the hole.  No real damage - just ... reshapen.  Which didn't really mean it would be any less painful. 

And, it explained the numbness. 

"While the comfrey root does help heal bruises, it works best when absorbed through the skin - or small abrasions at most.  Unfortunately, in this case, it was applied directly to the nerves of the foot which caused the numbness.  The numbness should fade as the chemical compounds of the comfrey break down." Tulojow shook her head.  "Chances are slim a simple salve would heal this wound. 

Tulojow pushed herself to her feet and crossed the room to one of the cupboards.  She pulled out two jars and retrieved thick roots from both of them and started grinding them into a paste with a mortar and pestle.

Naomi dotted a forefinger on her cheek as the healer answered her question, and then rolled the rest of her fingertips as a tilted pout pulled her mouth into a white smile. The young Slytherin's gaze slid back towards her brother, whose eyes still lingered on his magazine but with the pages left unturned; It was a sign of his interest, as much as Demont would protest.

The healer's spell of silence, however, was not as thrilling to the witch and her smile sank back into pursed lips. Then the healer broke it with another diagnosis, "Ope, here 'dat?" Naomi re-animated and spoke with a pepper lilt, "Have more t' smash into that sponge brain of yours."

Her brother's response to that was to continuing his pretend reading session, so Naomi focused onto the healer, as she admired her leg, "So.. Nadge?" she was sure that's how her brother addressed the older witch, "Healer-Miss-"

"Madame," interjected her brother.

"Madame..." his sister's hazel eyes rolled thoughtfully before finishing the name, "Nadge."

It wasn't sitting on her tongue well, none of the names were, but Naomi assumed she would get use to it eventually. Something had to fit.

 "You gwoin' to put something else on my foot..." her voice rolled into a deadpan, "or in it?" But she happily continued, "Have you done somet'in this weird before?"

As stupid as her brother thought her questions were, he was completely satisfied in her asking stupid questions he was sure he knew the answers too, and laid his magazine while waiting for Madame Nadge's response. She had a strange habit of being inconspicuously sneaky, but when she started to open up to people was abominably blatant about it, without revealing her motives. Demont could only guess it was because his sister didn't even know what she was doing until she did, thus she had no motives. She was just born to be a brat.

Naomi's gaze fell back on her brother as he quickly lifted his magazine in front of himself again, earning an accusing raise of her eyebrow.

"Tulojow's fine," the older woman offered with a warm smile to both of them.  "I never acquired the British affection for last names and titles.  My community never really used titles growing up, except in a few special cases.  So, I take no offense in being called by my given name." 

She chuckled at the girl's question, nodding her head to both parts of it.  "We'll start off with a touch of magical reconstruction but, yes, something else will be going on it.  You should be cleared to walk on it by morning.  That is, if you're diligent about staying off it until then."  There was no damage, per say, the structure of the foot was simply reformed.  But, the tendons and muscles and joints were all continuing to function despite the restructuring.  Trying to use the foot in its current state would delay the process of putting everything back in its place. 

"Indeed," Tulojow confirmed, nodding her head as she drew her wand.  "I was an Auror for over forty years - and spent most of that time serving as a field healer as well.  I've definitely seen stuff this weird - and then some."  Unique injuries was the common place in the world of magic.  "It takes quite a bit to surprise me these days." 

"Tulojow," Naomi mimicked with a twist of Patois. She smiled; the name rolled off her tongue in a much more expert fashion, and caught the exasperated glare she caught from her brother with satisfaction.

After the healer explained the process she was going to employ, there was a shudder of needles in the younger witch's foot--Naomi assumed whatever her brother had done was wearing off. She stretched her toes on the opposite foot, since she was still incapable of moving the other, and took to cooly pestering her brother, "You should accio your broom, 'den."

"I'd rather have my leg hexed off."

Her lids fell, as if it wasn't such a big deal, "It's just fer th' night, not like I'd be able to do much wit' it," she casually rolled her shoulders into a shrug.

"Only to 'di dimwit who misjudges your thickheaded-ness."

His sisters green eyes rolled in response, it wasn't like denying her of his wish was going to dissuade her from it, the hard stare of her brother confirmed that, however she was distracted by Tulojow's next comment. She was an auror.

Naomi's lips poked at her cheek as she tried to ignore that bit of her life, "Forty years? 'Den you left?" she lilted in disbelief, "Do anyt'ing before that?" She judged the witch was old, just by how she carried herself, but far from the end of her days, maybe she had a few more years under her belt where she did something else.

Tulojow grinned to herself as she focused on her work while the siblings had their exchange.  As Naomi was distracted by her brother, Tulojow gave the back of the girl's ankle a firm pinch to double check the effectiveness of the nerve block before pointing her wand at the bones in the girl's foot and decalcifying them. 

The bones mostly of a gel like consistency, Tulojow gently eased them back into their normal, straight shape.  Another grin twitched at her mouth when the girl asked about her history as an auror though her hand remained steady. 

"Just over forty-four years, to be exact," Tulojow replied, with a slight nod.  "Joined the Auror office in 1962.  I was on assignment in Tibet when an injury destroyed my knee.  I pretty much had to retired."  As much as she missed it, she knew she had to count herself lucky.  Most aurors weren't granted the luxury - or mercy of retiring.

The second, third and fourth metatarsal bones had been gently molded back to shape.  The joint capsules between the metatarsals and phalanges all seemed intact.  It was unlikely any of them would develop arthritis later from this mishap. 

"School, of course."  That seemed the universal precursor to most life activities.  Nowadays, at least.  "I'd initially pursued training as a Healer, though.  My grandmother had been a Mida - a tribal Healer.  I started learning under her but left home to pursue formal training.  I came to the British Ministry and joined the Auror corps a couple years after finishing training."

"Oh," Naomi pressed her hands against the knee of her injured leg, she couldn't entirely feel bad for the older witch, because she thought Tulojow was better off not wasting her life away as an auror, but she preferred not to ever have to have such a shattering lesson be put onto her.

Then a shiver of pain shot up her leg and the young Slytherin gave the healer her hawk-like attention, watching the witch's every move, "What so yer granny taught you? Not your mothur? Our parents teach us," and their grandmother just adds her two knuts--which Naomi was sure totaled to around thousands of galleons by now.

Tulojow offered the young woman a slight smile and nodded her head.  "Yes.  My grandmother taught me."  Tulojow's grandmother, Emma Thunder, had been a remarkable, courageous and poignant woman.  Tulojow had learned much of the art of healing from her even if she'd learned the details of the trade later in school.   

"My brother and I were raised by my grandparents," Tulojow offered in explanation, even as her focus remained on her work.  The bones and tendons in the young woman's foot had been straightened out.  They would likely be quite sore for a couple of days.  "My mother passed away when I was five and my father left to join the United States Air Force the next year.  But, from what I understand, my mother wouldn't have followed in my grandmother's footsteps.  She was a bit too much of a free spirit."  Somehow, apparently, both traits had a found a way to meld in Tulojow. 

As Tulojow continued her tale, Naomi dreamily awed at her foot as she sprawled her toes apart and drummed them on the air; churns of pain dully rolled through the soles of her feet and jerked up through the muscles of her leg, and the ends of her hair tightly curled as her eyebrows perked up and she chirped, "Oh..."

The young witch usually was capable of a few sarcastic quips when she could relate to someone, like she could understand Tulo's mother being a "free spirit" instead of like Tulo's grandmother. Naomi was also capable of sarcasm under pain, but poking fun at dead people wasn't really her thing.

"Well I 'cin move it now," Naomi looked up to the healer, still regarding her foot, and ignoring the lingering pain, "So stay off it all night? Yeah?"