Hermione's head rolled to the side and Harry knew she was drifting in and out. He hated seeing her like that; she was always getting hurt, and it seemed to be in worse ways than he and Ron ever did. "Hold on," he whispered, then stood, energy crackling around him.
"Right, we're getting out of here." A younger man looked at him with fear in his eyes, and Harry reached out to grab his shoulders. "That shield will not fail, not against them, not for hours." It was true, Harry hadn't seen a spell go off once it had been cast properly, and his battle shields were built to last. The Inferi still trying to climb the hill below were bouncing off the shield, which was designed to block all dark magic and intent.
The boy seemed to gain confidence from Harry's fierce declaration, and he stepped forward, firing off blasting spells with renewed intensity. "Right, I can't risk splinching the three of us, so we need to find a healer or a way out of here. Can you carry her and stay close to me?" He had to rely on Faelan's lycantropic strength to ensure Hermione's safety or risk all three of them on his unpredictable magic.