"Lost Alecto." Thorfinn shrugged, unconcerned about his friend, convinced she could take care of herself. "She should be on the west side of the building, huge stacks of crates over there. Goyle is running around like Rambo. Haven’t seen Zabini. Dolohov is out back waiting to get called in, he brought the nephews." Igor and Ivan weren’t the brightest light bulbs in the box, but Dolohov had started teaching them the business of cleaning up. This would likely be a bigger job than he could do alone.