Bole was sure he recognised that voice, though he struggled to remember. It was from such a long time ago. He peered through the mist and caught sight of a shock of red hair. Though he was merely a black silhouette, George Weasley stood out like a sore thumb. Oh he did recognise that voice.
"Weeeasley," He sang from the grass, levitating another stone into the air, "Which one are you? Suppose it doesn't matter! You're both as ugly as each other!" He flicked his wand and sent the rock hurtling towards George like a missle.