Dreogan didn't see how the fight began -- though he had some guesses.  All he saw from down the hall was his little brother be thrown back seven or eight feet onto the flagstones. And stay there. It did not take long for Dreogan, running as quickly as he was, to reach Adon. He wasn't bleeding. But Adon seemed petrified, literally. "You alright, Donnie?" Dreogan raised his voice, not sure if the petrification had impacted his senses and hearing. Predictably, there was no response. He'd have to wait a moment to find out.

Rounding on the approaching boys, who didn't even halt their progress at the presence of a prefect -- Adon must have really said something -- he pulled out his wand. "Stop right now."
The boys did, eventually, but not before taking a few insultory, ambling steps; just to show that they could. Dreogan recognised them as being in Adon's year, though in a different house. Adon'd fought with these boys before.

"Yeh? What are you going to do?" the tallest of them asked. He was still taller than Dreogan -- not very difficult to accomplish -- but Dreogan had advantages beyond intimidation. He was at least three years older. . He was at the top of his class and everyone knew it; even some of the seventh years asked for his help in Divination and he even tutored a couple of sixth years in Defensive Magic. While his chosen course path -- Levitical -- was not one that taught offensive or particularly aggressive spells, there were ways; everyone knew that powerful magic could accomplish nearly anything with the right manipulations.

Dreogan took two steps nearer to the boys, tilting his chin upwards. One of the boys in the back laughed. Another shushed him.

"I'm going to do whatever it takes," Dreogan said evenly. There was a degree of conviction in the voice the boys hadn't been anticipating. Dreogan suspected their typical opponent was like Adon: brash, insulting, and angry. Dreogan was determined, calm, and calculating. But that was not to say that, in this moment, he was not angry. Dreogan Eleor was, in fact, very angry.

He raised his wand to point at the tallest of the boys. The boy looked anxious for a moment -- considering -- before he glanced right past him, down to his little brother, still petrified.

"You're not always going to have your big brother around to pick your fights, Donnie," the boy finally taunted before nodding to his entourage.

They cut down the hallway, into an abandoned classroom. Dreogan stayed, watching them, until he heard the door click.

Lowering his wand, Dreogan turned and knelt on the ground next to his brother. Pointing at his chest, he muttered the counter-curse -- the one that all prefects were taught in their first week, if they hadn't, somehow, learned it before. "You alright, Donnie?" Dreogan repeated.

Adon pulled away quickly, glowering. "I'm fine!" he snapped before scrambling to his feet and running in the opposite direction, towards Gibbor's common room.

Dreogan stayed kneeling a moment, struggling with the competing desires to indulge in some self-pity and hurt or to chase after Adon angrily. Instead, he reached out to grab Adon's book bag and fallen wand. With a sad smile, he rose up and began to follow Adon, though very slowly. He'd have to make sure to leave Adon's things outside of his common room.