Valerian was a healer, but he wasn't a Spell Damage healer. He'd assisted with splinching case early in his trainings, but it had been decades and he could hardly think straight when there was a deep cut up the length of his arm. He peeked up at Greengrass and was hit by the urge to yell at him. As if he could have known not to come with him! Who in their right mind apparated with someone holding onto them, and without their wand out? He might have said that and more, but he was doing his best to stop himself from letting out a groan. He allowed Greengrass' handkerchief to take the place of his hand and grasped at his pant leg with his blood-covered hand to wipe away the blood.

"I'm—sure you're—pleased—with yourself," he ground out, pushing his bloodstained hand into his pocket to fish out his own wand. He needed to do something; Greengrass might have been an expert with ghosts and boggarts, but he doubted he could heal a splinching.

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