Harry

"He ever done this before?"

"Er..." Harry blinked at Proudfoot, "You mean...?"

"Legilimency. He had any training?"

Harry shook his head. Ron hadn't even been interested in Occlumency, really. Only in how it might help Harry with Voldemort. So unless he'd been secretly experimenting... no. This was new.

Proudfoot sighed.

"Damn. We'll just have to wait. I don't want to get tangled up in the possible brain damage," She slipped her wand back into the little holster on her arm.

"What?"

She blinked at him.

"Brain damage. You can't interfere when people are locked together like this. Especially if you're dealing with novices. They'll sort it out."

Harry stared at her in horror.

"You mean Malfoy could hurt him?"

Proudfoot sighed and ran a hand through her hair.

"Probably not? Look, it's only likely if we try to interfere; think of it like running into the middle of a knife fight. You do that, someone gets hurt."

"That's a bad example if you're trying to convince me Ron's safe right now!"

Proudfoot popped the bottle of dittany back into the field kit, and started nosing around for something else. She jerked her head at Ron and Malfoy, engaged in their eerie staring contest.

"Nah, look at him. He's clearly got the upper hand. Besides, people wrapped up in this kind of brain battle very rarely hurt each other; it's the empathy thing. Think about it, you're trawling through someone else's mind, it's bound to make you care,"

Harry snorted. His experiences with Snape hadn't... well... ok maybe he did feel a certain amount of sympathy for Snape. But that didn't mean this would go well...

"Leaving aside all the attempted murder, Malfoy's done a lot of horrible stuff to Hermione-"

"Which is reason for Ron to hurt him, not for him to hurt Ron. Just wait- oh that's not good..."

Harry wasn't quite sure how it happened, but Ron was on the floor, Malfoy on top of him. Knees on either side of Ron's stomach, hands on the ground either side of his head, Malfoy's snarl rendered more horrible by the dried blood on his face, and the fact that the tip of his nose was pressed against Ron's...

Harry started towards them, and-

Brain damage.

This was maybe not the time to go charging in without a plan.

"What do we-"

"We wait."

As Proudfoot spoke, Hermione came careening through the open door, flushed and out of breath, like she'd run after Ron instead of apparating. Proudfoot dropped the field kit and leapt around Ron and Malfoy to grab her before she could react. Hermione stumbled, her foot slipping on the jumper they'd tossed over the KnowGlobe, her body swinging wildly to the side, slamming into Harry and throwing Proudfoot off balance. The three of them crashed to the floor. Harry whacked his elbow on the edge of the sofa on the way down, and gasped in pain. The KnowGlobe was knocked off its little legs, rolling out from under the jumper... someone shouted expelliarmus! but it wasn't him, and his wand was whipped from his grasp, and the distinctive handle of Hermione's wand had just whisked passed his glasses...

The KnowGlobe clinked to a halt against a black boot in the door way. Doc Martens?

Skinny black jeans and a black coat. A textured jumper, so dark green it was nearly black, and a black scarf with a pattern of little red bats on it. He didn't recognise the pale anxious face, or the flicky black hair, but she had a fistful of wands, and a left-handed duelling stance... despite the clothes, definitely not muggle.

"Draco?"