Love at First Sight (Harry Potter)

At Flourish and Blotts

|ALEXANDRIA WEASLEY'S P.O.V|

"FRED! GEORGE!"

The screech echoed throughout the house, prior to a piercing scream that seemed to rattle the walls of the small bathroom. I was stood in front of the clean mirror, my horrified facial expression staring back at me through the reflection of the glass; anger filled my sapphire turned emerald eyes as they danced over my appearance: between the different eyes to the now raven-black hair that rested over my shoulders, I was unsure of which was worse.

The unlocked door to my left burst open suddenly, and I instinctively spun on my heels to face whom I assumed would be the culprits behind the prank — but, as it seemed, I had no luck at all that day.

Stood in the doorway, one of his pale hands wrapped around the doorknob, was Harry Potter himself.

As the skin of my cheeks warmed, a sign that they were flushing a deep crimson, I found myself praying to the great wizard Merlin for a miracle — for Fred and George to come in and somehow turn me into a rabbit, so that I could hop out of the bathroom and never return.

"Woah there, Ria — I knew you loved me, but not that you wanted to be me."

"Get out!" I screeched, hurrying forward to seize hold of the door in a desperate attempt to slam it closed. "Get out! Get out!"

The arrogance in his voice was interrupted for a moment while he fought to keep the door open. "Hey —!"

"Alexie and Harry!"

Two fourteen-year-olds with the appearances of one appeared behind Potter, disrupting my focus and allowing for the bespectacled boy to fully open the door.

"You know.  .  .  ."

"If you two had children —"

"— they may just —"

"— look like —"

"UNDO IT, YOU GITS!" I yelled in disgust, seeming to finally attract the attention of our other family members — for, not even a second later, our mother was scurrying down the hallway.

"What is going on in here —" She froze upon seeing the situation before her. The emotion within her brown eyes changed as they moved from person to person: beginning with suspicion at Fred and George, confusion at Harry, and then utter anger at the sight of me. "You," she seized the twins by their ears, to which their groans of pain and protest filled the air, "what have you boys done to your sister?"

Fred, his face contorted in misery, questioned, "Why do you always assume it was us?"

"Well, was it you?"

"Yes.  .  .  . but that's hardly the point."

I nearly began to fear for my attackers, as the expression on our mother's face truly was terrifying — even more so than the idea of having Harry Potter's children (which was borderline nightmarish).

"You fix your sister!"

"We can't," George's words were sheepish, and I could have sworn that I was light-headed. "The sweets take twenty-four hours to wear off."

"Sweets?!" My mother screeched, the volume of her voice sounding quite like how mine had been minutes before and I then realized that the two of us were alike in that aspect. "HAVEN'T I TOLD YOU TWO TO STOP MAKING THOSE BLASTED TOFEES, YOU WILL COME WITH ME AND WATCH AS I RID THE HOUSE OF ALL YOU HAVE MADE!"

"But, Mum —!"

"DON'T YOU 'Mum' ME, FRED WEASLEY!"

And, without another word about my condition and with my appearance still altered, my mother dragged Fred and George toward their bedroom. The sound of their pleading filled the hallway, slowly distancing until inaudible.