Being a passerby in HP female protagonist fanfiction

Harry thought this wouldn't work.

He simply couldn't stand this kind of life anymore.

Why haven't his friends contacted him at all? They were supposed to write to each other.

He felt wronged, anxious, and even somewhat angry.

No one contacted Harry, and he could only listen to the Dursleys's stoic and malicious words, imagining his wonderful life back at Hogwarts. Studying was certainly difficult, but compared to living here, what was unacceptable?

Harry missed everyone he knew at Hogwarts—Ron, Hermione—and at times he didn’t even find seeing Malfoy’s face so repulsive anymore—he desperately needed a landmark or something to confirm that his magical year had been real, whatever it was.

Maybe—Harry thought—he should try to find that person—find Claire, who clearly lived in this place, but Harry just couldn't find her.

Whenever Harry was sweeping up the withered grass and fallen leaves in the yard with a gloomy expression, he would always feel that longing. He would imagine Claire suddenly appearing on the street, with her usual, peaceful smile, and saying to Harry, "What a coincidence."

Then Harry would definitely answer, "Yes, what a coincidence, we're so close."

If this were to actually happen, Harry couldn't imagine how happy he would be, like a lost baby elephant returning to its herd, finding a place where it would be accepted again.

But Claire never showed up. Did she not go out? Even the supermarket clerks said they hadn't seen her much.

Or is it that Claire no longer lives here, and she has moved away?

Harry hesitated whether he should go to her.

He had tried to subtly inquire, but none of the children around seemed to know where the Asian girl lived, and the Dursleys would never mention a foreigner who might pose a danger. Where should he look for Claire?

Harry was conflicted and hopeful, until he was warned by the Ministry of Magic and placed under house arrest in his room because of the house-elf named Dobby. He hated the Dursleys more than ever, and he had to do something to save himself, at least not let himself starve to death here before school started.

Even a cookie would have been better than nothing. The Dursleys would only give Harry and Hedwig a bowl of cold canned soup each time—no, they didn't even remember Hedwig. Harry was more desperate and resentful than ever before, because he knew and experienced what a truly good life was like.

He should ask for help, but to whom should he ask?

Hunger was nagging at him, and Harry thought he must be a little out of his mind, otherwise why would he see another owl standing silently by the window with its iron bars?

It was nighttime, and the Dursleys were probably asleep. Harry stared intently at the unfamiliar owl, while Hedwig was already wary and huddled in her cage. This owl was bigger than any other owl Harry had ever seen.

Driven by an unknown need for help, Harry mustered his courage and whispered something.

“Whoever your owl is, please save me,” Harry said.

The owl gently flapped its wings, as if to indicate that it understood, and then took one last look at Harry before flying away into the darkness of night.

Harry waited by the window, his stomach rumbling with hunger, a deep pain churning in his mind. Summer nights could be so cold, but that tiny glimmer of hope kept him waiting by the window, hoping for a possible warning or help.

Perhaps nothing will happen. How can a mute owl convey a message? Or perhaps the owl's owner is a bad person, and he will die along with the Dursleys, just like the books about dark wizards that Ron showed him.

As time slowly passed, Harry felt as if he had detached himself from this world, and everything seemed so hazy to him, until a strange premonition swept over him.

Harry's eyes widened. He heard some noise, someone was approaching—the bright, soft moonlight shone on the windowsill, and the night seemed to feel suffocating at this moment, quiet and secluded. The little witch with black hair and black eyes appeared in front of Harry's window. Her body was floating in the air, one hand holding a wand, and her face had the smile that Harry had seen many times before.

It's not a dark wizard, it's not the Ministry of Magic, it's Claire.

“What a coincidence, Harry,” Claire said, her voice very low, as if whispering in his ear.

“Claire…” Harry murmured, “Why are you here?”

Although he asked that question, Harry actually suspected that the owl probably belonged to Claire's family.

Claire gestured for Harry to be quiet, then waved her wand, the wind ruffling her clothes and hair, making everything seem so incredible—Claire gave Harry a reassuring smile.

“Please step back,” she said. “I will take you and your owl away from here.”

But there's an iron fence separating them! What is Claire going to do?

Harry thought, but he didn't say anything. Instead, he ran over and scooped up the cage containing Hedwig.

Claire waved her wand, and Harry heard her chant a familiar spell.

"Without a sound!"

Everything quieted down, and Claire continued reading.

"Split into pieces!"

A large gash was cut into the iron bars, and the severed portion fell to the ground without making a sound, except for a sudden, violent gust of wind that blew into Harry's room.

“All done.” Claire looked pleased with her handiwork, then held out her hand to Harry. “Give me your hand.”

Alright, Harry thought, let's leave it at that. He resolutely reached out his hand to Claire and took hers, easily ignoring why Claire could use magic here.

Claire's hands were cold, and Harry felt as if he were floating up with her, slowly landing hand in hand in the night.

"Given the current situation..." Claire seemed to be thinking, "Should we go to my place for now?"

How long is "temporarily"? Does he intend to go back?

Perhaps sensing Harry's unease, Claire sighed softly, withdrew her hand from his, and before Harry could react, she naturally patted his head.

She had already used a lot of magic, but now she had cast a Warming Charm, and Harry suddenly felt warm, and the cold summer wind no longer made him shiver.

“I will take you away,” Claire said, tapping her wand. “Whatever the reason, you shouldn’t be treated like this.”

"Don't worry." She was calm, yet there was an unexpected sharpness to it. "I will handle this."

After all, there are already so many unresolved issues in the world, what would happen if there were a few more happy stories?

As expected, a soft heart makes it impossible to remain a bystander.

Claire thought to herself indifferently.