"Good." Harry mumbled, distracted, his hand holding onto one bound foot of a trembling woman, he's other hand was... was hurting. Carving, lightly slicing into flesh with Bellatrix blade - flesh that would heal eventually, in this instance, but she knew that would be due to the power of the wilde magic in Harry, not because the blade was benign. A voice, muffled, strained, keened highly. It was swaddled in pain. The flesh Harry abused was enveloped in agony and he gave the foot in his hand a little squeeze as he tried to soothe her.