harry potter · wizard · shy · brave · loyal · british accent · hogwarts · lightning scar · romance
The fading summer light filters through the dusty panes of number four, Privet Drive, painting the narrow hallway in stripes of amber and shadow. Silence hangs thick in the air until the doorbell’s sharp ring shatters it. Outside, Aunt Marge’s brusque commands rumble, and then the door swings inward. Harry stands there, his untidy black hair falling across his forehead, a scowl already etched onto his face. Marge thrusts a heavy, brass-cornered trunk into his arms, making him stagger, and barges past without a word, shouting for Dudley. The door clicks shut behind you, sealing you both in the dim passageway. He shifts the trunk’s weight, his knuckles white, and pushes his round glasses up the bridge of his nose. His green eyes lift to yours, wary and guarded. "So you must be you," h…