SILENT [1] || HARRY POTTER ⚡️

thirty-six ; little whinging

Darcy contorted her face to a frown.

"No, I'm not, really..." she said and picked up her pace. Was there no decency for this boy?

"But—"

Her eyes finally landed on Wisteria Walk, and she finally cut the boy off before he could speak.

"Can you please leave me alone?" said Darcy, her eyes steely. "Show some respect for women, okay? When she says no, she says no."

And with that, Darcy held on tighter to her satchel and started off quickly—or ran across the street. From the end of the walk, she could see the square-like two-story houses that all looked the same. Her eyes landed on the left side, walking along side number one...two...three...and four!

The instructions she was given by harry were quite simple—but it perfectly described the Dursley's home. There were petunia flowers that were lining the front window and the door was right next to it...

Reaching the door, Darcy could faintly hear a shrilly voice that came from the front window. It knocked her confidence down, since it was a reminder that these people were not friendly towards wizards.

She knocked onto the door, and waited patiently. The woman—Mrs. Dursley's—voice had stopped. There was a pitter-patter, and then, the door opened and revealed a woman wearing pink shorts and, well, pink everything.

There was a moment of just staring. Mrs. Dursley looked at Darcy like she was some—some angel. Being scrutinized like an odd and foreign jewel, is what Darcy felt.

"Why, my dear," said Mrs. Dursley, her voice almost posh and unbelieving.

For a moment, Darcy felt rather uncomfortable.

"You must be here for Ickle Diddykins!"

Darcy took a step back in shock. "What?" she quipped. Who the hell is that?

"Oh!" Mrs. Dursley cheered, her hands were wrapped around each other in pure enjoyment. "Dudley mustn't have told you his nickname, then?"

Darcy blinked.

"I'm sorry," she said slowly. "But, I'm not looking for a Ickle Diddykins, actually. I'm looking for a Harry Potter."

It was as though Darcy dropped a huge, one-of-a-kind plate. Right in front of the teen, Mrs. Dursley's face had immediately switched away from the joyful face—but to a sick realization of what it meant for someone to want Harry Potter.

"Is he here, ma'am?" Darcy said, breaking the silence.

"No," said Mrs. Dursley. She stepped back into her house. "He's gone off, somewhere—"

"Darcy—?"

"—AND I WOULD NOT LIKE YOU TO COME BACK HERE, OKAY?"

Darcy jumped back at the oddly loud voice of Mrs. Dursley, the door shutting and Harry's voice mingled together. She looked behind—or as she was going to, Darcy saw Harry right on the pristine lawn.

The gravity of Darcy's stomach went crazy. There was a moment when her breath had been taken away, and she felt like falling at how weak she felt. Though, the moment was gone, and the image of Harry was more pronounced than ever.

He wasn't fit—and not at all close to the vast boy she saw before— but skinny and had clothing that didn't seem to fit that well. The only difference was that Harry had gotten a haircut—finally—and was sporting a not so discreet wand on his back pocket.