That was it! That was exactly what Bole needed. He wasted no time in taking firm hold of the advantage. "Accio wand!" He cried, lifting it away from her reach and into his hand. He tossed it carelessly behind him and turned the tip of his wand on her inside. The smile that stretched across his face was positively manic with glee.
"You're pretty good Frenchy," Bole teased, "But I'm better. Incarcerous!" He summoned more ropes that appeared from thin air and snapped around her wrists and legs and bound her arms to her sides. He barrelled forwards and threw himself against her, knocking her to the ground without care that she would land in a pile of broken crockery. He straddled her hips and leaned down and close to her face. "That's better. Good girl," He breathed, "Where's your Weasel now?"