"It's not because of you! You stalker!" Ronald yelled.
"I don't think so, Weasley," Draco said arrogantly. "That's against the law. Every wizard who sees it is obliged to report to the Ministry of Magic. I'm not a scum like you."
He looked Ronald and Harry up and down with a sneer.
"Look at you. One was raised by Muggles, and the other… Tsk tsk, Weasley, doesn't your scumbag father like Muggles very much? From this point of view, you and Potter really are the same kind of people."
Then he turned his head toward the two followers behind him and said, "Maybe you don't know, Weasley's father..."
Draco didn't even notice Ronald pouncing on him—only his two followers did. When Draco saw the expressions on Goyle's and Crabbe's faces, he quickly turned and got a solid punch from Weasley.
The punch hit Draco squarely on the nose. Blood gushed out, his nose skewed to one side, yet Goyle and Crabbe still restrained him, keeping him from falling.
"What are you still doing?" Draco asked, covering his nose with one hand and holding Weasley back with the other, preventing him from advancing further.
Even if Draco didn't act, Harry and Ronald were no match for Goyle and Crabbe. They were tall, strong, and easily pushed the thin Harry aside. Goyle and Crabbe began punching and kicking Weasley, who lay on the ground.
After a while, Weasley's face looked like a painter's palette—blue and purple blotches covered it. Although Draco's nose was bleeding from the punch, seeing Weasley beaten so badly made his pain almost negligible.
The problem was Draco's location. It happened to be at the exit of a secret passage.
Ronald's older brothers—Fred and George—emerged from the passage carrying numerous items. They froze at the scene: their younger brother being pummeled on the ground. Although Fred and George often teased their younger brothers, this was beyond a joke.
Without saying a word, they dropped their things, drew their wands, and intervened. The plan was to separate them, but in reality, they sent Goyle and Crabbe flying into the air.
Just as the twins were about to confront the ones who dared to hit their brother, a familiar meow interrupted them.
The sound was instantly recognizable—Filch's cat, Mrs. Norris. Whenever this cat appeared, one knew Filch was not far behind.
Fred and George quickly grabbed their dropped items and ran around the corner.
"Harry! Ronald! Hurry, Filch's coming!" they shouted before disappearing.
Draco, whose nose still bled, Goyle and Crabbe pressed against the wall, Weasley moaning on the floor, and Harry, unharmed, were all caught by Filch.
Even though it was not officially "restricted hours," anyone could see what had happened. Student fights, regardless of the school, were serious offenses.
Point deductions and confinement were the typical punishments, rather than parental involvement. Twenty points were deducted from each of the two houses involved. Several students were sent to the dean's office for confinement over the next two weeks.
Fortunately for Draco, he suspected Snape would not be too harsh. For Harry and Ronald, it was miserable—Professor McGonagall scolded them severely.
After Malfoy's interruption, they had not even sent their intended letters. That night, both Malfoy and Weasley were admitted to the hospital with injuries. Harry had planned to send the letter that night but, without Ronald, he didn't know how to contact Charlie.
The next morning, Draco was discharged and recounted the previous night's events over breakfast to Solim.
"You did it on purpose, didn't you?" Solim asked, glancing at Draco.
"Exactly," Draco said smugly. "I knew they'd either send the dragons away or wait for the Ministry to catch them. Whatever they try to do, I can delay them."
Draco's eyes flicked provocatively toward the Gryffindor table, where Weasley glared red-eyed.
"I thought someone from the Weasley family worked on a dragon farm in Romania. I guess Scarhead can only ask him for help," Draco smirked. "All I have to do is keep an eye on the owl shed. That way, I can be sure they haven't contacted anyone yet."
If the Ministry officials came first, it would be over for Harry and the others. They could Apparate instantly, whereas Charlie could only arrive by broomstick, as dragons could not use the Floo network. Draco had sent the letter first; Weasley and his friends had not.
"Then I wish you luck," Solim said, finishing his breakfast. After a pause, he added, "But don't get your hopes up. I'm sure Headmaster Dumbledore already knows. With his connections, holding off the Ministry is not a problem for him."
Draco looked at Solim. "I can see you don't like Potter and Weasley either. We could give them a taste of our schemes together."
Solim glanced at his recently repaired nose and said amusedly, "How did that happen? You were repaired by Madam Pomfrey last night, weren't you?"
Draco blushed. "That was because I was off guard! While arguing with Goyle and the others, that 'b**ch' Weasley snuck up on me!"
Solim's smile faded. "Then you should really thank the 'b**ch' who sneaked up on you. You were lucky—he didn't use a wand. Think about what might have happened if he had."
Draco opened his mouth to respond but had nothing to say.
"Before your enemy is down, never let your guard down," Solim continued. "Even if you knock them down, don't waste time talking. Strike quickly and follow through. I've seen plenty of villains blunder this way. The ones who chatter after being knocked down often get killed by others when they recover. The key is to act swiftly, leaving your enemy no chance for last words."
"Looks like you've been slacking lately, Draco," Solim added.
"What's wrong with me?"
"Do you think that learning silent casting of the Disarming Charm makes you immune to mistakes? Weasley didn't use magic last night, only his fists—and yet he almost ruined you. Without Goyle and Crabbe, guess what would have happened?"
"If Goyle and Crabbe hadn't been there, I'd have been beaten like a dog," Draco admitted.
"Exactly. Weasley and Potter don't command Charms like you do, but they are strong enough physically. For young wizards like them, fists are sometimes more effective than magic. You don't like them and want to punish them? Fine—but pay attention to your methods."
Solim drew a circle in the air with his finger. "You don't need to do it yourself at all. Have your followers handle it. They can block and punish the enemy while you stay safe. Last night, they did the work, and you went out to mock Weasley—giving him the chance to strike. Think about that."
Draco fell silent, the lesson sinking in. Solim's words reminded him that arrogance could be more dangerous than any spell.
The breakfast hall buzzed around them, but the memory of last night's fight remained vivid. Draco touched his repaired nose and considered Solim's advice carefully. This time, he wouldn't underestimate anyone—not even a "crappy little wizard" without a wand.
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