Dumbledore’s Army. It’s what we call ourselves. Sorta like a team. Protectors of Hogwarts type thing.
Yes. I’ve met them
Yeah, takes us a while to get any traction I’ll give you that one. But let’s do a head count here. Me, the Boy-Who-Lived. The brightest witch of our age, living legend who kinda lives up to the legend. A woman with breathtaking bat-bogey hexing issues. A couple of pyromaniacs and YOU, big fella, you’ve managed to piss off every single one of them.
Voldemort was ready. As Harry shouted, “Expelliarmus!” Voldemort cried, “Avada Kedavra!”
A jet of green light issued from Voldemort’s wand just as a jet of
red light blasted from Harry’s — they met in midair — and suddenly
Harry’s wand was vibrating as though an electric charge were
surging through it; his hand seized up around it; he couldn’t have
released it if he’d wanted to — and a narrow beam of light connected
the two wands, neither red nor green, but bright, deep gold.
Harry, following the beam with his astonished gaze, saw that
Voldemort’s long white fingers too were gripping a wand that was
shaking and vibrating.