Harry Potter Preferences

I. How You Met

Harry: (Takes place when Harry goes to Diagon Alley for the first time.) 

There was nothing like the excitement of venturing through Diagon Alley, searching for the right products to begin your attendance at Hogwarts. You were walking near Ollivander's Wand Shop when you walked right into a boy; upon impact, both of you fell backward onto the ground. "Oh, I'm so sorry!" you say, truly meaning every word.

"It's fine, really," the boy assured you. He was patting the ground, evidently searching for something. "Where are they?" he muttered to himself. You moved your hand to come across a cool, thin object---a pair of glasses. 

"Are these yours?" you asked the boy, handing them to him. 

"Yes! Thank you," he said, his face lighting up.

"You're welcome. What's your name?" you asked. 

The boy shoved his glasses onto his face. "Harry. You?" 

You stood up, brushing your pants off, as you told him your name.

Harry followed suit. "That's a pretty name." 

"Thanks." Your face warmed up; this was not a compliment you got very often, and you wouldn't say so, but it meant the world to you.

"Will you be going to Hogwarts?" Harry blurted randomly after a moment's silence. He couldn't help it; you were such a beautiful girl, he had to know if you were at least going to the same school as him. 

"As a matter of fact, I am," you answered. "What about you?" 

"Yeah..." Harry was tongue-tied. He wondered how it could be so easy for people to talk around those like you. 

"Time to go!" your mum called, coming out of Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions with an armful of, well, robes, of course.

"We're going to the bookstore!" your twin sister, Hermione, chimed in.  

"Harry! We need ter go get yer wand!" a tall (more like gigantic) man called at the same time. 

"Well, Harry, it was a pleasure meeting you," you say to Harry as you both get up. 

"I'll see you on September first!" Harry replied cheerily. 

As you both parted, Harry hoped he would see you again. After all, for the rest of the day, he couldn't get you out of his head or wipe the grin off his face. 

Ron: (Takes place right before third year begins.) 

Your loose jacket fluttered behind you as you hurried to Broomstix to get a new broom; quite devastatingly, your other one broke. There was this one particular broom you've had your eye on since the beginning of summer. Unfortunately, this was the day everyone chose to get their school supplies, and you wanted to get to Broomstix before anyone else did. Even more unfortunately, that didn't happen. 

You had to squeeze past a few sixth years to get to the display case. There it was...The Firebolt. Many people were "oohing" and "aahing" over it. You gingerly walked up to the display and pulled a box out from under it. Everyone stared at you as you fast-walked over to the cash register, only to run into a boy around your age with flaming red hair. Ron Weasley, Harry Potter's best friend. You only knew him because you and Ginny were close friends, although she was a year younger. Ginny always described Ron as a prat, but she was his sister, so of course, that didn't truly mean anything. "Sorry," you told him, sighing at the broomstick with its scattered box and lid. 

"I'm fine, but are you alright?" Ron asked. He picked up the lid, handing it to you.

You gingerly took it from him. "Yeah. You're Ron, correct?"