If one were to focus their eyeglasses upon Number 4 Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey on—really, any given day, that one summer—they would see a scrawny teen with messy black hair perched upon the front stoop: As though he was playing sentry, to the cookie-cutter house.
In a manner of speaking, he WAS guarding the house. From what? No one knew; nor cared, really.
To the neighbors, the boy was mental and a trouble maker—or so that's what they'd heard from the boy's relatives. None had really checked those facts though; they were perfectly content to think of him as nothing more than a damaged child with an attitude problem.
But that's how people are. They never really look deep enough into others to see who they truly are.
The fact of the matter is: Everyone has light and darkness inside them. It takes someone with a lot of patience and a fair-amount of empathy to understand that.
Alas, people like that are hard to come by.
So the boy sat, watching as everyone carried on as though life was good, nothing evil, nothing bad was afoot.
He knew, however.
Should any of the neighbors have questioned what was on his mind, why he sat there...he would have lied, true, but you would have seen it.
It. That spark in his eye that spoke more words than he could possibly say.
The bright green eyes would have shone with sadness, happiness, anxiousness, worry, doubt, anger, and so many more emotions—emotions so closely interwoven it was impossible to pick apart every string, every thought.
They would have known there was something big coming. Something dark. But they also would have known that there was a beacon of hope, somewhere...
They probably wouldn't have known that that beacon was the boy that sat there, looking so lost as he guarded the house that he didn't belong in.
...for, how could someone so lost be the one to provide all the answers?
O_.~•*'*•~._.~•*'*•~._.~•*'*•~._O
A/N Just a random one-shot about nothing. XD
Thanks for reading, and please review!