Everything was too quiet except for the snip of clippers across Harry's locks and the disappointed tuts of Aunt Petunia. She watched thickets of hair drop to the floor and settle, cut away and tossed aside.
Harry's new strategy was to be as quiet as earthly possible. Maybe then none of the Dursley's would be able to sense that something had irrevocably changed. That Harry was 'more wrong' even than usual.
That something in her felt more right than it ever had.
Aunt Petunia's voice came out dripping with poison- "They've been letting you grow out your hair over at your freak school, have they?"
Harry bowed her head lower to hide the glare and nodded. "Yes," she said, softly.
She expected a blow to the head and a welt for talking into her lap and not speaking up, but Aunt Petunia merely let out a sigh that lasted longer than comfortable, and Harry felt the scissors return to their work.
"Let's get this over with before Vern gets home, hm?"