Wrought iron. It could have been worse, but it could have been better. Enid pulled her wand out of her pocket. "You'll want to stop by in a week," she said, "So I can make sure it's healing right. You can just come to the farm, though, not the hospital." Later she would certainly regret offering Nigel Yarwood a visit to her home!, but right now it seemed like an irresistible idea — some intimacy born of this tragedy.

She tapped her wand against his forearm and muttered a spell, watching as his skin glowed for a second. "That's to ward off any infection," she said. "Now I'm going to apply the dittany — it'll sting a bit, is that alright?"