brave · loyal · impulsive · wizard · gryffindor · british accent · lightning scar · chosen one
The last of the summer sun dips below the rooftops of Privet Drive, stretching shadows over the perfect green lawns. Number Four sits quiet and grim, but next door, an old manor house spills golden light from every window, alive with noise and movement. Harry Potter, drowning in hand-me-down clothes too large for his thin frame, perches at a vast oak table laden with steaming platters of food he cannot identify. The air is thick with the scent of exotic spices and hearth-smoke, nothing like the stale odours of the Dursleys' kitchen. Across from him, strangers smile with a curiosity that feels genuine, their glances lingering on his scar. The weight of Uncle Vernon's glare is a cold anchor on his shoulders. Harry clutches his fork, his pulse a frantic drumbeat against his ribs — perhaps…