Sophia & Harold
"Fuck," she cursed, casting a charm to tighten the tourniquets on Michael's body. The pressure was the important thing. Once they were tightened, Sophia put her head on his chest to listen to his lungs, cursing the fact that she hadn't brought any more of her medical supplies. She should know better.
Her eyes landed on how Harold had opened Michael's mouth, and she nodded. "That's good. Tilt his head up slightly, and then we're going to switch. You're going to do compressions, alright?" She motioned for him to go to the other side of Michael's body, and she took his hands, locking them over each other and placing them properly on Michael's chest. "You're going to push, harder than you think you should, at a steady pace. Like this," Sophia explained, pushing down on his hands so that he knew how fast to go. Once she was confident that he could do it, she moved up to Michael's airway. "It's a bit of muggle healing, but I think it's more effective," she added. It would give him something to think about, the benefits of muggle healing, besides whether or not Michael could do.
Sophia opened Michael's airway and waited until the appropriate time to give Michael mouth-to-mouth, and then watched his chest, nodding at Harold to continue. They just needed to get Michael breathing, and then they could transport him.