Fay walks up.
"Who're you?" the wife asks, sounding now more tired than alarmed.
"I'm Fay - I'm a professor, and I have some emergency medical training. I can make sure everyone's okay, get you medical help," Fay says, voice calm and firm.
The woman nods, slowly. "I - my husband won't respond to anyone, and my children are... Really shaken, and I'm afraid they're hurt."
Fay glances over. "Do you have any injuries?"
The woman bites her lip, shifting, and: "A few. But they're not bad. You should see to the others first."
"Alright," Fay says, gently. She closes her eyes then, apparently struggling with herself, and - "I'm not... Using the sort of medicine you're used to. There might be repercussions if it's known I spoke about it, but I want you to be fully able to consent to treatment - "
The woman frowns, but - "I won't ask. I won't tell. I've lived near - the sort of hills we don't talk about, all my life. Just - do whatever you have to, to get my kids unhurt."
Fay nods. "Thank you." And she turns to the husband first, casting diagnostic spells, peering into his eyes, feeling his hands. "You'll need to keep him warm and comfortable for a bit," she says. "And make sure he eats hearty food." She casts several spells - the girls can only recognize a few, but they look like some of the stuff Madam Pomphrey uses when kids have been out in the snow too long, or sprained their joints, or after a brush with Dementors. Warming, pain-relief, anti-inflammatory, general healing. Deep breath, and she tilts his chin toward her, staring into his eyes for a long minute.
To the smallest children, then, who stare at her. "Are you a fairy?" the youngest asks.
Fay smiles. "Somewhat. But you can't tell anyone, okay? The Fairy Queen will be very angry if she finds out I was here." The children nod, seriously, and Fay lets them touch her wand, then casts several spells over them (adding calmness, clarity, comfort, and staring into their eyes only briefly).
To the teenager, who has her shaking arms crossed over her chest, looking uncomfortable - she glances at her mom, then stubbornly at Fay, and asks what each spell does.
Fay regards her - and explains, in a low tone and simple terms, waiting for a nod between each one.
The mother, then, who'd been very carefully paying attention to none of it - Fay doesn't make her even look at what she's doing.
"That's - as much I can do, with the resources I have here," Fay says. "You'll likely have nightmares for a while, the younger children especially. You might have memory issues, especially your husband. You'll likely start feeling aches again at the sunrise after next - it's alright to take an aspirin then. You might have muscle tremors and twitches for a bit, and some weakness - be cautious about carrying heavy stuff, and watch the children carefully when they're playing." She takes out a piece of parchment, writing on it. "If the aches get so bad you're having trouble moving, or if anyone gets a fever, or if you can't remember what happened here, or if anyone has a seizure - call the number here. He's normal, just... In the know."
Pause, and: "Don't talk about this. You might want to put the number somewhere you'll see it with a little note, in case you forget what it's for."
"Right," the woman says, voice only a little shaky. "I - our house is. How do we get out of here?"
"I can take you to your sister's," Fay says after another short pause. "Instantly - it'll be the same time, and you won't be any older or younger, or any more hurt."
"...Right," the woman mutters. "Very helpful fairy paths." She glances around, looking stressed, but gathers her family in at Fay's nudging, and Fay Apparates away with them - two at a time, the mother on each trip after a brief discussion about capacity limits.
Fay reappears alone after the last round, looking exhausted.