Love at First Sight (Harry Potter)

The House-Elf Liberation Front

|ALEXANDRIA WEASLEY'S P.O.V.|

"Sirius says that Karkaroff was a Death Eater?" repeated Ron in surprise as he, Harry, Hermione and I climbed the final, winding staircase to the Owlery on that evening of the First Task.

Ron's eyes were wide as his hand clung to the bannister, supporting his weight. He stared ahead of him, but was glancing every few seconds at Harry who was pressed against his shoulder as the two of them walked side-by-side. Hermione and I were slightly below them, a step between us, looking up at their backs and the profiles of their faces.

Harry nodded his head, giving a further shake to his already messed locks. The dirt had been wiped clean from his face during his shower, but the small scratch across his chin stayed — red and only slightly angry. In the dim candle light, his skin shone.

"Fits, doesn't it?" said Ron with a snark to his tone as we stepped off of the top of the staircase, his surprise seeming to have dwindled. He walked a few feet further into the centre of the Owlery with Harry to allow Hermione and I space to get up, and his voice raised slightly to be heard easily over the wind rushing through the glass-less windows and the owls hooting all around us. "Remember what Malfoy said on the train, about his dad being friends with Karkaroff? Now we know where they knew each other. They were probably running around in masks together at the World Cup. . . ."

He stood slightly off to the side, not far from Hermione and I as we all watched Harry approach Pigwidgeon. The small, fluttery bird had flown down immediately upon Ron's arrival and was now settled on the short podium of a perch by the window in front of us. He was bouncing on his little legs with excitement as Harry neared him, letter in hand.

Harry had written to Sirius at once after the First Task, before even cleaning himself up or changing from his filthy robes.

"I'll tell you one thing, though, Harry," continued Ron after a few seconds, his voice cutting through the whirling wind easily, "if it was Karkaroff who put your name in the goblet, he's going to be feeling really stupid now, isn't he? Didn't work, did it? You only got a scratch! Come here — I'll do it —"

As soon as Harry had reached Pigwidgeon, intent on tying the letter to his leg, the poor owl had taken into the air with joy. He flew around and around Harry's head, hooting incessantly as Harry only watched. Ron crossed the distance between Harry and himself in two simple strides, snatched Pigwidgeon out of the air and held him still on the podium while Harry attached the letter to his leg.

"There's no way any of the other tasks are going to be that dangerous, how could they be?" Ron went on still as he carried Pigwidgeon to the window, Harry's letter to Sirius safely around his leg. Ron held Pig out of the window, his arms exposed fully to the night — the wind blew at his sleeves harshly, but he paid this no mind as he looked back at Harry. "You know what? I reckon you could win this tournament, Harry, I'm serious."

With a small, slightly annoyed roll of my eyes, I watched as Ron finally released the struggling owl. Pig dropped a few feet from the suddenness, before flapping his wings and soaring off into the darkening skies as quickly as his tiny body would let him.

It was clear why Ron was acting this way: he was desperate to atone for what he had done to Harry. Honestly, I had found it to be a bit much but Harry seemed enthralled with it. Every time Ron would open his mouth that evening to boast of Harry's greatness, Harry would alight with a grin.