"Whatever, mudblood," Pansy said breathlessly, and edged around the room toward the kitchen, to take cover no doubt. Hermione backed up and took cover herself, beside George who had tipped a large coffee table on its side. Hermione's body kept the right spells spitting from her wand, ducking and shielding on automatic, feeling strangely distant from the whole scene. This was life. Fighting for it. The "wolves were mostly young, anyway, and relatively unskilled in duelling; transformed they might be a struggle, but right now it was horribly easy to take them out.