Love at First Sight (Harry Potter)

Aboard the Hogwarts Express

|ALEXANDRIA WEASLEY'S P.O.V|

The house was rather dim the following morning. The sun outside was covered by a hoard of clouds; grey and sobbing, they blocked rays of light from pouring through our windows. The halls were filled with shadows, the rooms dark as we all packed the remainder of our school things.

"You have everything?" asked Hermione again, for the fifth time in the last half hour. She was crouched beside her bed, peering beneath it to assure that nothing was forgotten.

"Yes," I said, huffing with slight annoyance. I dropped the blouse that I had been folding rather roughly atop my other clothes, before grabbing the top of the trunk and shutting it with a thud. I clasped the lock and then grabbed the handle, lifting the trunk off of the bed to my side.

"I'm sure Ron still hasn't finished packing," she said with a scoff as she straightened on her feet, her palms dusting nonexistent dirt from the knees of her trousers. She grabbed her trunk and then started for the door, to which I followed.

"See you downstairs, Gin," I had called over my shoulder to my sister, who was counting her textbooks by the window, as Hermione and I walked out into the hall.

Voices carried throughout the entirety of the Burrow. Fred and George were in their room, the ghoul was howling in the attic. My mother was the loudest of them all, however: her words heard clearly from downstairs in the kitchen, where she berated Charlie for how dangerous his job was as she prepped breakfast.

Hermione and I left our trunks near the landing, and then climbed the remaining staircases to Ron's bedroom. The usual creaking of the wood steps went unheard among the noisiness of the house. Ron and Harry's voices carried out through the open doorway as we approached. When we saw them, they were on their knees on opposite sides of the room - seemingly searching for something.

"You had it last!" said Ron hurriedly, his red head of hair buried behind the window curtain.

"I didn't!" said Harry rather angrily. He was just by our feet near the doorway, although he hadn't seen us. His attention was focused on the stack of Quidditch magazines that Ron had in the corner, through which he was sifting through.

I glanced at Hermione in confusion. She was rolling her eyes, back pressed against the doorframe and arms crossed over her chest. Harry was crawling across the carpet now, squinting at it as he went. His glasses had slipped to the end of his nose, and he used his shoulder to push them up again.

"What the bloody hell are you two doing?" I said, my expression rather miffed.

Harry's head whipped around to look at us. The red of embarrassment pooled into his cheeks as he sat upright on his knees, his hand scratching at the back of his neck awkwardly. Ron jumped in his spot, smacking his head against the wall and becoming caught in the curtain. He fumbled with it, nearly ripping it from off of the metal rod as he fell onto his back.

"Harry's lost my needle," said Ron through a low groan. He stared up at the ceiling in defeat.

"Your needle?" repeated Hermione in disbelief. She moved from off of the doorframe as though that would help her hear better. "What reason could you possibly have for a needle?"

"The lock on his trunk is broken," said Harry, still pink. "Once it locks, he can't get it open again. I've shown him how to pick it using a needle."

"Oh goodness," said Hermione. She pinched at the bridge of her nose with two fingers. "Ronald, get up."

As he clambered to find his balance, I moved further into the bedroom. The two of them had turned it upside down: pieces of parchment scattered all over Ron's desk, which he had once kept neat to write letters over the summer holiday. Harry's trunk had been emptied once more, when just the night prior it had been neatly packed. Ron's was indeed latched closed, despite a pile of clothes just beside it looking ready to be put inside.