Love at First Sight (Harry Potter)

Book 3: The Leaky Cauldron

|ALEXANDRIA WEASLEY'S P.O.V|

"This is absolutely ridiculous," I said definitively with a shake of my head. My arms were folded over my chest as I stood against the doorway to the kitchen, tapping my foot against the ground impatiently.

Ron was sat the table, poured over the new Muggle device that our father had purchased for us. It was called a telephone. When we had told our parents that we wanted one to contact Harry over the summer, our mother was less than impressed but our father, on the other hand, had never looked happier. He had trekked out to the Muggle village a few miles away, and had returned a few hours later with a perplexed look and a hunk of metal beneath his arm.

"Alex, if you aren't going to help then leave!"

I rolled my eyes, watching as Ron cautiously prodded the device with his fingers — half excepting it to explode in his face. With a flick of my ginger hair, which had now grown to be well beneath my shoulders, I pushed myself off of the doorframe and crossed the room. I stood behind Ron's chair, staring at the telephone with my nose scrunched in distaste.

It had been two months since the end of our second year and the new school term was set to be starting soon. Our family had spent the majority of that time in Egypt, visiting my older brother Bill who had been studying tombs. Many things had changed for Ron and I, but many things had also not. Our appearances were a prime example; while Ron had grown immensely, a least two feet, this was the summer which began my development. I not only had longer hair, but I had finally managed to put on a little weight. Something that hadn't changed, however, was that we still hadn't learned how to properly contact Harry Potter.

"This is a piece of rubbish," I said, after a few minutes of examining the telephone. I leaned over to poke the device as Ron had, before glancing back at the boy in question. "That or you're an idiot."

He rolled his eyes. He placed a hand on my shoulder, and then shoved me down into the chair beside him. "You figure it out."

I grabbed the scrap of parchment that Harry had given us on the Hogwarts Express, my eyes darting over the number he had scribbled down in his loopy handwriting. I prodded at the numbers on the telephone, turning the circle until I heard a small click. And then there was a low, sudden tone. Both Ron and I jumped, eyes wide as we stared at the ear-listening piece — which was resting on the table next to the telephone.

A few moments passed and then the tone went away. Instead we heard a posh, scratchy voice say, "Hello? The Dursleys' residence."

Ron and I looked at one another, our eyes still wide. The voice spoke again, fiercer this time, and the two of us shook in our seats: "Hello? Who is this?"

Ron leaned forward over the ear-listening piece and yelled, at the top of his lungs, "HELLO? HELLO? CAN YOU HEAR ME? I — WANT — TO — TALK — TO — HARRY — POTTER!"

When no one responded, Ron glanced back at me in confusion. I simply shrugged.

"WHO IS THIS?" The voice roared back. "WHO ARE YOU?"

"RON — WEASLEY!" Ron bellowed back. I winced at the volume, placing my hands over my ears when they began to hurt. "I'M — A — FRIEND — OF — HARRY'S — FROM — SCHOOL —"

Our mother suddenly came through the kitchen door, completely aghast. She stood with her hands on her hips, adorned in an apron stained with grease. She looked between us and asked, "What on earth are you two doing?!"

"THERE IS NO HARRY POTTER HERE!" came the voice, distracting our mother. Eyebrows furrowed, she approached the table. "I DON'T KNOW WHAT SCHOOL YOU'RE TALKING ABOUT! NEVER CONTACT ME AGAIN! DON'T YOU COME NEAR MY FAMILY!"