"Didn't know you was into gingers, Malfoy?"
"Shut up Weasley"
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Gemma Weasley shared many similarities with her siblings, the ginger hair, pale skin, freckles and a super sense of humour, yet she was the one that stood out from them all. Even her tw...
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The next evening, the Room of Requirement buzzed with nervous energy as students trickled in. Harry stood near the front, his arms crossed, trying to look authoritative while Hermione hovered at his side, clutching a stack of parchment and quills. Ron leaned against a practice dummy, looking vaguely unimpressed, while I was sprawled on one of the cushions, testing how much I could sink into it without sliding onto the floor. It was cozy in here, the flickering candlelight giving everything a warm glow, but the tension in the room was thick.
"Right," Harry began, clearing his throat. "Thanks for coming. I know this is a big risk, so, um... yeah."
Hermione gave him a pointed look, and Harry visibly cringed. "What I mean is, this is important. We're not just here to muck about. We're here because we can't rely on the Ministry or Umbridge to teach us anything useful. Voldemort comes for us, we need to be ready."
There was a collective murmur of agreement, though Zacharias Smith snorted in the corner. "And who made you the expert on dueling, Potter? Just because you've faced him once or twice doesn't mean—"
"Shut it, Smith," I snapped, sitting up and glaring at him. "If you don't like it, you know where the door is. Oh, wait—no, you don't, because this room's magic and you're too dim to figure it out."
Laughter rippled through the group, and Zacharias muttered something under his breath but fell silent.
"Thanks, Gem," Harry said, giving me a grateful look before continuing. "So, first things first, we're going to start with something simple: disarming."
Fred groaned from the back. "Disarming? Really? What's next, Harry—hand-holding?"
"Don't tempt him," George added, smirking.
"Oi!" I chimed in, glaring at my brothers. "You two can duel me if you're so bored. Let's see if all those years of pranking have made you any good in a real fight."
Fred and George exchanged looks, their smirks widening.
"Oh, you're on, little sis," Fred said, rolling up his sleeves.
"Prepare to be embarrassed," George added, stepping forward with a mock bow.
The room seemed to perk up at the promise of a sparring match, and Harry reluctantly stepped aside. "Fine," he muttered, "but make it quick. And don't blow anything up!"
Fred and George took positions on either side of me, their wands raised. I stood in the center, twirling my wand between my fingers.
"First to disarm wins?" George asked, grinning.
"First to disarm both of you," I corrected, matching his grin.
"Confident, are we?" Fred said, his wand already twitching.
I just shrugged. "Let's see if you can back up all that hot air."
Before they could respond, I flicked my wand, and Fred's shoelaces tied themselves together in a tight knot. He stumbled forward, waving his arms wildly to keep his balance.
