Voldemort was back, and everyone knew it. And that was exactly why Dumbledore’s army had been assembled. Taking in student of Hogwarts who wanted to learn more about spells, ways to protect themselves when the dark lord was already so close.

And you were a perfect candidate.

The room of requirements had been busy throughout the days where Harry and the others were called in to train, duel in pairs and learn defence and combat spells that Umbridge had been usless in teaching.

“Block it!” Harry’s voice radiated through the room as Dean cast a shield to protect himself form the stupefy spell cast at him and luckily he’d managed to defend himself just in time, earning a cheer from the student in the room.

And now it was time to properly duel, you being one of the members picked to start in the dimly lit requirements room where the rest of the members gathered on the sidelines with you and your opponent stood in the middle, wands raised, eyes focused and your gaze averting from Fred to his brother before you, Ron.

No doubt it would be entertaining to watch.

“Remember, this is a duel. No curses, no hexes and only practice.” Harry then took a step back beside Hermione, who also watched, her eyes moving between you and Ron.

“You may begin.” She spoke.

And on the sidelines the two twins watched, arms by their sides before George spoke, his voice barely above a whisper with that playful smirk gracing his lips like always. “One sickle.”

And Fred? He couldn’t refuse a bet even if the reward was small. It only fuelled his playful ego.

“You’re on.” He whispered right back and just in time as the duel began but was cut short.

“Stupefy!” You’re voice rang out in the silence, firm, clear, your spell shooting towards Ron within a matter of seconds and unfortunately, he was too slow to defend it.

“Pro-…” Ron’s defence was cut short, his shield barely even appearing before he was flung back, hitting the ground in an instant with a sharp thud that sent everyone bak a step out of pure surprise.

“Thank you…” Fred whispered with a proud smile on his face as he watched you, two small golden coins being slapped into his grasp by his twin who’d lost the bet badly.

“Shut up.” George retorted, not angrily, but playfully frustrated. Of course you’d win.