Headmistress Rostova pursed her thin lips and glared over the tops of her spectacles, somehow managing to convey intense disapproval without actually scowling.
"Please attempt to justify yourselves," she said calmly. "It will amuse me."
Neither of them answered. Igor winced at the pain throbbing through his bleeding nose and every inch of skin that had been hit by Mikhail's expert Contusion Curse; Mikhail was cut in places, but seemed okay.
"We got in a fight," Mikhail grunted.
"Oh really, Grinkov?" Now she scowled. "Would you care to enlighten me further, Karkaroff?"
Igor gulped.
"I...Well...Um, he started it..."