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"Dora… Dora… I'm sorry… hic… it's all my fault… hic… I'm so sorry…"
When Rigel arrived at the guest room of the Tonks family home, he was met with the heartbreaking sight of Andromeda sitting on the floor, cradling Nymphadora's head in her lap. Tears streamed down her face as she murmured apologies over and over, her wand trembling in her hand, its tip glowing white as she desperately tried to seal close the dozens of cuts and gashes on her daughter's body.
"I'll… I'll heal you, love… I'll fix it all… just hang in there," she whispered through broken sobs, her voice thick with guilt and anguish.
"Mum… I… I… uwaaaa…" Nymphadora, finally freed from that living nightmare, burst into tears. "I… I was so scared… I thought I was gonna die…"
"I'm sorry… I'm so sorry… It's all my fault…" Andromeda repeated over and over, her wand trembling in her grip as she tried to cast healing spells. The mere thought of losing her daughter terrified her to her core. But worse still was the guilt—knowing that Dora had suffered all because of her… because of Drek's twisted obsession with her.
The one Drek really wanted… was her. Not Dora. And because she didn't give him what he was after, he made her daughter suffer for it. 'If only I'd given him what he wanted… none of this would've happened to Dora… It's all my fault…'
Because of her own pride—her dignity—her daughter had paid the price. 'It's all my fault… I let this happen to her…'
That guilt made her hands unsteady, and her magic faltered. The wounds were closing, slowly, but not nearly well enough.
Rigel stood in the doorway for a moment, watching in silence. He noticed the trembling in Andromeda's hand and quickly realised he couldn't let her carry on.
Even if she knew some healing spells, and Dora's injuries weren't the result of dark curses, and were just brutal, physical injuries inflicted upon her by Drek, the problem was that Andromeda wasn't properly healing her daughter.
Quite obviously, Andromeda wasn't in the right state to think clearly; her mind was a storm of guilt and fear.
If she kept at it in that state, there was a real risk she'd leave scars on Nymphadora's body—and that wasn't something he was willing to allow.
He didn't want Nymphadora's body to end up scarred like that. Sure, as a Metamorphmagus, she could always cover them up by morphing herself, but it'd be a right shame if she had to use that gift just to hide the marks.
'Yeah, best make sure to get rid of'em…'
With that thought, he stepped forward and knelt gently beside her.
"Aunty," he said softly, drawing her tear-filled eyes to his, "I reckon it's best we get her proper medical from an expert."
The repeated exposure to the Cruciatus Curse alone was reason enough for professional attention.
"R… right… proper care… she needs proper medical care… St. Mungo's… we need to take her to St. Mungo's…" Andromeda nodded, blinking back tears.
But Nymphadora shook her head desperately. "No… no… I don't want to go anywhere… I want to stay here… with you, Mum… I don't want to leave…"
She was terrified—frightened that something might happen to her again if she were to go anywhere.
"Alright, alright… we're not going anywhere," Andromeda soothed, holding her daughter close. She glanced up at Rigel and added softly, "In her state, taking her out isn't a good idea either…"
Besides Nymphadora's fear of being apart from her mother, her injuries were simply too serious. Whether by Floo, Apparition, or broom—any kind of travel might only make things worse.
Rigel looked at the girl, still trembling and murmuring, "I don't want to be separated… I don't want to…" He gave a thoughtful nod. "Yeah, fair enough. We'll call a Healer from St. Mungo's instead."
In fact, he reckoned it was far better to summon a Healer here than drag her off to St. Mungo's. Going there would mean the whole bloody hospital knowing what Nymphadora had been through—something that would no doubt draw the attention of the Aurors and the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.
After all, a young witch had been tortured here!
Now, technically, that sort of thing would fall under the clause of improper use of magic and could land someone in a spot of bother. But that wasn't the real issue—and at worst, it'd just mean a warning. Which wasn't much of a concern for Rigel, seeing as he wasn't the one who'd laid a wand on Nymphadora in the first place.
The real problem was the nature of the torture itself—and the sort of spells that had been used.
If it were just physical injuries, perhaps it could be swept under the rug as nothing major to be concerned about. But the real issue was that two of the three Unforgivable Curses had been involved.
Once the Healers examined her, they'd almost certainly detect signs of the Cruciatus Curse—or at least some lingering traces of the said dark magic. Imperius might be harder to pick up on, but Cruciatus left its mark. And once they did, the Aurors would have to be notified because the use of Unforgivable Curses is punishable by life imprisonment in Azkaban without parole.
If it were revealed that she was subjected to Cruciatus, it would also be revealed who used said magic on her. Then Drek's corpse would need to be handed over… and before long, the whole bloody mess would spiral—press sniffing about, Ministry questions, reporters camping about for any news.
Sure, he could try greasing a few palms to keep things quiet, and with the corruption so prevalent in the Ministry, such a thing wouldn't be a problem… but the more people involved, the more Galleons it'd take to keep their mouths shut. Not to mention, Andromeda would also get suspicious that he was attempting to cover up the entire thing, and might even question him for that…
No, best not let it come to that. A discreet, trusted Healer summoned here would do just fine.
'I know just the person…' he thought, nodding to himself.
Straightening up, he added, "I'll call upon one now," and began walking out of the room.
Andromeda called out from behind, "Do you even know how to call one over?"
Rigel gave a casual shrug. "Did it when Grandma fell ill a couple of years back—won't be a problem." With that, he stepped out of the room.
…
Sometime later
Rigel and Andromeda stood outside Nymphadora's room as the older witch paced anxiously as they waited for the healer tending to her daughter to emerge.
"I just hope everything's going alright in there…"
"Aunty, I get that you're worried—but try to take a breath," said Rigel, leaning casually against the wall. "Her life was never really in danger. It's just the injuries. And Mrs. Farley's no slouch—she knows what she's doing. So no need to be so on edge."
"I… I know," Andromeda replied, though her voice betrayed her nerves. "It's just…"
She didn't get the chance to finish her sentence—the door to Nymphadora's room creaked open, and out stepped a middle-aged witch with dirty blonde hair, wearing healer's clothes, and carrying a pinched expression on her face.
Andromeda rushed forward at once. "How… how is Dora? How's my daughter?"
Mrs Farley gave her a curt nod, eyes cool and just a touch of disdain. After all, standing before her was a blood traitor, and as a pure-blood witch from the House of Farley, she didn't have a very good opinion of a blood traitor—though, even if she looked down upon Andromeda, she said nothing aloud; her expression made her opinion clear. Blood traitor or not, she kept it professional, to a certain extent.
"The physical injuries have been tended to; there won't be any scars either," she said briskly. "No cause for alarm there. As for her mental state…"
"Is there a problem?" Andromeda asked quickly, her face pale with worry, ignoring the other woman's condescension.
Mrs Farley shook her head. "The situation isn't dire. Whoever used the Cruciatus Curse on her clearly didn't know what they were doing. It was very weak, I dare say. It might've been cast multiple times, but not well enough to leave permanent damage."
Andromeda let out a shaky sigh of relief.
"However," Mrs Farley continued. Making Andromeda's breath hitch in tension, "that doesn't mean she's out of the woods. There may be some lingering side effects—mood swings, memory lapses, trouble focusing. It's hard to say now. Only time will tell."
She paused, then added, "Even a poorly cast Cruciatus is still dark magic. No one goes through that unscathed."
"I… I understand," Andromeda murmured, nodding slowly.
"One more thing," Mrs Farley added, her tone clipped. "The girl needs proper rest. I've given her a carefully measured dose of the Draught of Living Death. It'll keep her asleep long enough for her body to recover undisturbed." She paused, then reached into her robes and pulled out a small vial filled with a vivid green potion. Holding it out, she continued, "Give her a few drops of the Wiggenweld Potion come morning—it'll help rouse her gently."
"I… I understand," Andromeda murmured, reaching for the vial—only for Mrs Farley to pull it back just before it touched her fingers.
"Before I hand this over," the healer said coolly, "let's talk about my fee, shall we?"
"Y… yeah, the treatment fees…" Andromeda murmured, her face pale.
It was only now that the thought struck her—the treatment fees that needed to be paid.
After all, treatment at St Mungo's wasn't free for everyone. Ministry employees got covered, sure, but for the average witch or wizard, it came with a bill. And this wasn't a trip to the hospital either—Mrs Farley had made a personal house visit, which meant an even steeper price tag.
Andromeda's stomach turned. She was fairly sure she didn't have enough coin on hand to cover it, but she still asked, voice low, "How… how much is it?"
Mrs Farley gave her a look, sharp, measured. The witch's eyes narrowed slightly, a flicker of suspicion creeping in. 'Don't tell me she hasn't got the money,' she thought sourly. The idea alone was enough to put her in a mood. But she didn't snap, not yet. Firstly, because it was just a suspicion, and more importantly, because Rigel Black was also present.
Even if Andromeda didn't have the money to pay, surely, the boy from the House of Black would have the means to pay if need be.
So, forcing her irritation down, she listed the charges briskly, "That includes the drops of Draught of Living Death administered to the girl, the vial of Wiggenweld potion for waking her, my visitation fee, and the healing work done. Comes to a total of 23 Galleons, 12 Sickles, and 2 Knuts. Let's just round it up to 23 Galleons and 12 Sickles…"
"That much?!" Andromeda practically shrieked, stunned by the large sum Mrs. Farley put forward.
"What's the matter? Don't tell me you haven't got the coin?" Mrs Farley asked with a raised brow, clearly dissatisfied.
"I… uh…" Andromeda faltered, struggling to find the words. Quite obviously, she didn't have that much…!
Her silence said enough. Mrs Farley's scowl deepened, and it looked like she was about to lay into her—probably to have a go at her for summoning a Healer to her home without being able to cough up the fee. But before she could open her mouth, Rigel interrupted her, "Mrs Farley, if I may… I'd appreciate it if you didn't put my aunt on the spot like that. She wasn't the one who called you—it was me. I requested your services for my cousin, so naturally, I'll be the one footing the bill."
"Rigel… yo—" Andromeda began, but Rigel cut her off sharply, "Aunty… not now…"
Without sparing her a glance, he stepped forward, pulling a cheque book from inside his robe, on which he scribbled down a certain amount and signed it with a flourish before tearing it off the cheque book and handing it to Mrs Farley. "This should cover everything."
Mrs Farley examined the cheque, blinking at the figure—it was clearly more than what she'd asked for, and she didn't need to think long enough to understand the reason, "I see…" After a moment, she gave a brisk nod. "Very well. That'll do." She folded it, then tucked the cheque into her robe and handed over the vial of Wiggenweld Potion. "Now then… if someone could be so kind as to show me to the fireplace."
Rigel passed the potion to Andromeda, speaking calmly, "Aunty, best you check in on cousin. I'll see Mrs Farley off to the fireplace. We'll have a proper chat after that."
Andromeda hesitated for a moment, then gave a quiet nod. "Understood," she said, taking the vial from him and heading back to Nymphadora's room.
Meanwhile, Rigel turned to the Healer. "If you'll follow me, Mrs Farley…"
"Very well," she replied curtly, trailing behind him toward the Tonks' fireplace.
…
On the way to the fireplace
Mrs Farley glanced at the quiet boy walking beside her and asked gently, "How's Lady Black these days?"
"Grandmother passed away about a year ago," Rigel replied evenly.
Mrs Farley faltered for a moment, visibly taken aback. "I'm sorry to hear that…"
Rigel gave a small shrug. "No need to be. It was over a year ago—I've made my peace with it."
Mrs Farley let out a soft sigh and asked, "And what about you, then? Have you been living on your own?"
Rigel shook his head. "With my grand-uncle and aunt," he replied smoothly.
Of course, that was a lie. While Cygnus and Druella had urged him more than once to move in—given his rather orphaned state—Rigel preferred living alone. It granted him far more freedom. He did visit them regularly, not just for fencing lessons but for other reasons as well… but for the most part, he kept to himself at Grimmauld Place. Naturally, Mrs Farley didn't need to know any of that.
"I see…" nodded Mrs Farley. She thought about asking whether the two of them knew he was in touch with Andromeda, but decided against it—after all, it was Black family business, and well outside her lane.
Rigel asked, "I heard your daughter started at Hogwarts?"
Mrs Farley nodded with a smile. "Yes, she got her letter last year. She'll be going into her second year now. Gemma was sorted into Slytherin—naturally. The Farleys have always been Slytherin, through and through."
"I'm glad to hear it," Rigel said with a polite nod. "Maybe I'll be relying on her when I start at Hogwarts myself."
"Oh, I'm sure she'd be chuffed to help," Mrs Farley replied warmly.
Rigel offered a faint smile and came to a stop. "Well, here's the fireplace."
"Right then, I'll be off," said Mrs Farley, stepping toward the hearth and taking a pinch of Floo Powder.
Just as she was about to vanish into the green flames, Rigel called out, "Mrs Farley… about tonight's events…"
She glanced back over her shoulder. "No need to fret, child. I know what ought to stay quiet." Her tone was casual, but firm. The amount written on that cheque was more than enough to keep her lips sealed—and besides, this was Black family business, not something to be blabbed about. She had enough sense to grasp the consequences if she went flapping her gums about it to anyone.
"I'm glad to hear it," Rigel said with a small smile, watching as she disappeared into the flames.
"Right then… time I had a proper word with Aunty," Rigel muttered as he turned on his heel and headed towards Nymphadora's room on the upper floor.
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That's it for this chapter. Hope you enjoyed reading this one!
A/N: So, I feel like writing a bit of Harry Potter for now, hence here's the upload.
Something I'd like to inform everyone: there was a Change in Chapter 7. If you don't want to reread it, then that's fine. All I have done is change Draco's gender. Instead of Draco Malfoy, it's Draca Malfoy now. Yup, we're going the Malfoid route!!!
Anyway, if you want to read up to 24 advanced Chapters, be sure to check out my P-atreon: https://www.pa.treon.com/SlytherinManor
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