Charity coughs, and sound comes out; experimentally, she tries to bend her knees and they respond and oh ow, fuck you very much, Bellatrix Lestrange. "Finally," she breathes, hoarsely—her throat is raw still, so it comes out gravelly and dry and far quieter than she intended—and, because she values politeness, "And—thank you—Severus. And—Stephanie."

Wincing, she shifts, attempting to bring herself upright to lean against the wall. "What happened." She can't manage much inflection and unnecessary movement hurts, but the question is directed at her old colleague.