Crabbe sat down opposite Montague, pulled out a bandage from his pocket, and began wrapping his wrists. He worked deftly, each loop covering half the previous one, then bit down on the end of the bandage, pulled it tight, and tied a dead knot on the outside of his wrist bone.
Goyle sat beside him with a piece of canvas spread on the ground and two Enchanted Knuckle Dusters resting on it. He picked one up and used a grinding wheel he carried with him to smooth the edges inside the finger holes. Iron filings fell in a soft stream.
"Montague's kick just now..." Goyle ground twice, his voice neither loud nor soft, as though he were talking to himself. "The sound it made when it landed—I could feel the ground shake even from that far away."
Crabbe finished wrapping his left hand and clenched it to test the tightness without looking up. "Did you notice the senior's dragon scales? So cool! And those solid, broad lat muscles—I have no idea how he trained them. I really want to discuss it with him."
Goyle flipped the grinding wheel over and worked on the finger-hole edges of the other knuckle duster. "Obviously. Senior Montague has the most solid muscles I've ever seen. He could crush those Gryffindor trash with one hand. Do you think Dumbledore was no match for him even when he was young, given Senior Montague's current state?"
Crabbe lifted his eyelids and glanced at Goyle, then tore off the end of the bandage and tucked it into a gap along the edge.
After thinking it over, he said in a tone so earnest it was impossible to tell whether he was joking, "You got it wrong. Headmaster Dumbledore couldn't take even one punch from Senior Montague without his