"I think I can- there's- hold on-" She's talking to both Tatiana and the man she's trying to heal, sweat prickling on her brow. Her wand tip glows, pressed in the center of his chest, and he goes rigid, crying out in pain to a background of Hermione's apologies, until she goes quiet to better concentrate.

"Dittany," she says, after what feels like an age but is only seconds, when the man lies gasping, in pain but further from death than before. A vial with a dropper swoops through the air. "It cleans and seals cuts. I've got to get to the rest--"

She's not talking in full sentences, she realises, and she makes a conscious effort to calm herself down. She can't heal anybody if she's panicking, she reminds herself, straightening to step over to an unconscious woman whose hair is matted with blood. "You only need a few drops," she says, sounding stronger, getting to the end of her sentence this time. "There's more, but let's- let's get the most immediate injuries seen to first."