If I'm Lucky {Fred Weasley}

The Battle Pt. 1

A/N: I'm so sorry for the long absence and the late addition of a new chapter. I was trying to finishing editing the story before completing it, and forgot how lengthy the draft for this chapter was. While editing, I got sick again and I am still struggling with the illness. I was only able to focus on a little at a time. Then my birthday was 3 days ago and I took some free time to celebrate and relax. Not only that, but work has been hectic. Don't worry, I have drafts of all the final chapters, so it will be published to completion, just maybe not as quickly as I hoped. Hopefully this chapter can make up for wait as its the longest one I've ever written. I love you all. Thank you so much for the patience and support.

And here it is, our final night alive,

As the earth burns to the ground,

Oh, Boy, It's you that I lie with,

As the atom bomb locks in.

"Where are we going?" Fred followed my fast-paced strides closely, along with Angie and George.

"Just a few more steps," I panted. The battle hasn't even started yet, and my quick steps already have me out of breath.

That's not important right now.

Focus.

"Here," I stopped abruptly. So abruptly that Fred's chest collided with my back, but he quickly steadied himself by gripping my shoulders.

"Where is here exactly?" Fred asked, tilting his head to look at me.

I felt a smirk tug at my lips, "The one place on the map you two could never get into."

"Halt!" A voice came from the wool tapestry that hung on the stone wall in front of us, catching all of our attention. Its delicately woven threads depicted a young man, age twenty-one years old, dressed in 14th-century fashion and practising sword fighting techniques in a brightly green grass field. His oversized long white sleeves flowed in the wind, and his tight beige trousers stopped at his calves. Even his leg hair was visible in the highly detailed fabric. Over my years at Hogwarts, I learned from the boy that he represented the son of a servant. In his young adulthood, he made a name for himself among his peers by having friendly sword fights with them and eventually became a knight that saved a lot of people in a historic battle. Now he is taught to students as the history figure: Sir Calloway.

"Who goes there?!" The boy in the tapestry shouted, withdrawing his sword in defence.

"It's me, Calloway," I panted, still winded from the stent of our lengthy run.

Fred's eyebrows furrowed, "Calloway?" He murmured.

"Ah, Charlotte, Good to see you again. Three years, it's been," The boy beamed before lowering his sword. His posture perked up when his sights shifted and landed on Fred, George, and Angie, "You brought more visitors? I hope you lot are prepared for the battle ahead."

"That's why we're here, Cal. We need an advantage point. Can you help us out with that?"

"Always happy to help lovely young ladies such as yourselves," Calloway responded merrily before his eyes bounced between Fred and George, "And their friends..."

His smile dropped as he brought a fist to his mouth and cleared his throat, "With the password, of course."

"Of course," I repeated with a courteous nod before resighting the password, "Pugna Solemnis"