No one, not even Molly Weasley could tell the twins apart. Professors confused them, friends just started calling them combination names, in second year, Marietta Edgecomb had confessed her undying love for Fred to George instead, who had simply patted her on the head once and walked away.
Alicia Spinnet could tell. Alica Spinnet could always tell. George thought it had been luck at first. That she simply always guessed right. But then, as the years went on, she just never got it wrong.
He came up to her in the library one afternoon, she barely looked at him before going back to her revising for winter midterms.
‘What do you want, George?’ she asks shortly. She had been moody for weeks. Since Fred and Angelina had started hanging out, leaving her and George to fend for themselves.
‘How do you do that?’ he asks. She gives him a puzzled look quickly. ‘Tell us apart.’ he clarifies.
“Well, you’re not attached to Angelina’s neck, so that kind of gave it away.” she snips. he laughs heartedly, a full belly laugh he hasn’t given off in a while. He was always a little bit darker without Fred around.
“But usually. How can you tell?” he pushes.
“Its not really hard. I don’t understand how no one else can see the differences. You guys aren’t the same person. Anyone who pays attention should be able to do it.” she tells him.
He thinks about that. He and Fred are different. Fred is all big ideas and grandiose gestures, while George is the pragmatic details guy. Not to say he doesn’t have big ideas on his own. But Fred says ‘Lets make puking pastilles’ and George starts looking into what to add to the chocolate to hide the taste of the potion hidden in the truffle.
He doesn’t think the people who can’t tell the difference between him and Fred aren’t paying attention. He *knows* his mother is constantly watching them. But thats the thing, she’s watching them and not him. People don’t pay attention to the individuals. Alicia does.
“so whats the big one? whats the difference that you can see with barely a glance?” he asks her. she puts her quill down on her book, readjusting her arms and leaning on them a bit. She stares into his questioning look and tilts her head.
‘Your eyes.’ she says simply, like it should be obvious. ‘You each have a fleck of brown in your eyes. It’s so small, it’s almost undetectable. I noticed it on the train our first year. I found it fascinating, because yours is in your left eye, and his is on the right. I call it ‘the mischief’. the mischief in your eyes.” she laughs at her own joke. She does that a lot. George admires that about her. That she doesn’t need the validation of other people like he and Fred do, even if the validation is just from each other.
Alicia is perfectly okay with just laughing on her own.
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