A/N: I forgot this earlier but I do not own Harry Potter OR Twilight. Some materials taken from those books belong to the authors of those books. None of the characters are mine.

I have updated chapter 1 to slow it down a little. I will be doing things like that quite a bit because this is my first story and I am counting on the Critiques of the reviewers to help me get better!!

Chapter 2

Driving up to the his new house Harry could only gape at it. It was a newly built two story house that looked like it was made completely of glass. It was obvious that it cost a lot but it wasn't over the top. Harry thought it was perfect. He went in and unpacked all of his stuff.

"I really need to go shopping" he said to himself. "A nap first though" He went up to his room glad that the house was furnished and within moments was asleep.

Harry ended up staying asleep all through to the next day. When he woke he felt better than he ever had. He got dressed and left to go to the store. He spent all day stocking his house with all the food clothes and supplies he thought he would need. While he was out he went and enrolled in high school knowing that if he was going to live in the muggle world he would have to have an education that didn't involve a wand.

Coming home he put everything away and started dinner. The doorbell rang. Standing at the door was a cop.

"Can I help you officer?" Harry asked. "Yes, my name is Charlie Swan and I'm the chief of police, I just thought that I would come over and welcome you to forks." The man said.

Harry was pleasantly surprised. "Oh! Well thank you! Won't you come in?" Harry said. "That would be great!" Charlie said. Harry ushered him into the house and set about making tea.

"How do you take your tea?" Harry asked him. "Um sweet" Charlie said.

"One lump or two?"

"What does that mean?"

"In your tea do you want one lump of sugar or two? Cream?"

"Oh you mean hot tea don't you?" Charlie laughed.

"Do people not drink hot tea here?" Harry asked.

"Well not usually, no they don't," Charlie said apologetically.

"Oh well I just moved here from around London so I'm not really sure how things go," Harry said.

"I was wondering about your accent" Charlie said.

They sat and talked a little about the town before Charlie left Harry to himself. He hoped the whole town was as friendly as Charlie was.

Harry spent the rest of the evening situating his house before he decided to call it a night and head to bed. He fell asleep excited about school in the morning.

The next morning Harry got up early and went for a run around the neighborhood. After his run he took a shower and got dressed then set off towards the school. Since he was knew he got there early to get his schedule and books and try to get a feel for the halls. He remembered all too well what it was like the first day of Hogwarts with Ron.

At that thought he felt a pain in his chest.

Forcefully pushing that thought aside as he reached the parking lot of the school, he went to the office. "Hello what can I do for you dear?" the lady at the desk asked. "Yes, my name is Evan Black." Harry replied.

"Of course," she said. She dug through a precariously stacked pile of documents on her desk till she found the ones she was looking for. "I have your schedule

right here, and a map of the school." She brought several sheets to the counter to show roe.

She went through the classes for him, highlighting the best route to each on the map, and gave him a slip to have each teacher sign, which he was to bring back at

the end of the day. She smiled at him and hoped that he would like it there in Forks. He smiled back thinly. He then headed back to his car and drove around to the parking lot.

He stuffed everything in his bag and sucked in a huge breath. "I can do this," he lied to himself feebly. "No one is going to bite me."

Harry was really nervous when he walked into the school. Everyone was already staring at him. He hoped that he didn't stand out too he got around the cafeteria, building three was easy to spot. A large black "3" was painted on a white square on the east corner. He felt his breathing gradually creeping toward hyperventilation as he approached the door. He tried holding my breath as he followed two people through the door.

The classroom was small. The people in front of him stopped just inside the door to hang up their coats on a long row of hooks. He guessed that was where they went and put his there as well. They were two girls, one a porcelain-colored blonde, the other also pale, with light brown hair.

He noticed the teacher was a small balding man named Mr. Mason. "Oh yes Mr. Black, are you kin to the Blacks in La Push?" Mr Mason said.

"No sir" Harry replied.

"Oh, well you can take a seat in the back, if you need any help just ask."

"Thank you sir" Harry went to sit in the back.

It was harder for his new classmates to stare at him in the back, but somehow, they managed. He kept his eyes down on the reading list the teacher had given sat quietly through the lesson hoping that he wouldn't have to repeat the year because of his magical schooling.

When the bell rang, a nasal buzzing sound, a gangly boy with skin problems and hair black as an oil slick leaned across the aisle to talk to him.

"You're Evan Black, aren't you?" He looked like the colin creevey type.

"Yea," He said. Everyone within a three-seat radius turned to look at him.

"Where's your next class?" he asked.

He had to check in his bag. "Um, Government, with Jefferson, in building six."

There was nowhere to look without meeting curious eyes. "I'm headed toward building four, I could show you the way…" A little too eager but at least it wasn't because he was famous here.

"I'm Eric," he added.

He tried to smile but it probably came out as a grimace. "Thanks."

They got their jackets and headed out into the rain, which had picked up. He could have sworn several people behind them were walking close enough to eavesdrop. He

hoped he wasn't getting paranoid. Well I guess you aren't paranoid if people really are out to get you.

"So, this is a lot different than England, huh?" he asked.

"Very."

They walked back around the cafeteria, to the south buildings by the gym. Eric walked him right to the door, though it was clearly marked.

"Well, good luck," he said as Harry touched the handle. "Maybe we'll have some other classes together." He sounded hopeful.

Harry smiled at him vaguely and went inside.

The rest of the morning passed in about the same fashion. His Trigonometry teacher, Mr. Varner, who he would have hated anyway just because of the subject

he taught, was the only one who made him stand in front of the class and introduce himself. He stammered, blushed, and tripped over his own boots on the

way to his seat. Of course I would have ONE professor Snape in the new school Harry thought.

After two classes, he started to recognize several of the faces in each class. There was always someone braver than the others who would introduce themselves and

ask him questions about how he was liking Forks. He tried to be polite. One girl sat next to him in both Trig and Spanish, and she walked with him to the

cafeteria for lunch. She was tiny, several inches shorter than Harry was, but her wildly curly dark hair made up a lot of the difference between their

heights. He couldn't remember this girls name, so he smiled and nodded as she prattled on about teachers and classes. He was forcefully reminded of Hermione and couldn't help the pain that flared.

They sat at the end of a full table with several of her friends, who she introduced to him. He forgot all their names as soon as she spoke them. They seemed

impressed by her bravery in speaking to him. The boy from English, Eric, waved at hi from across the room.

It was there, sitting in the lunchroom, trying to make conversation with seven curious strangers, that he first saw them.

They were sitting in the corner of the cafeteria, as far away from where he sat as possible in the long room. There were five of them. They weren't talking, and

they weren't eating, though they each had a tray of untouched food in front of them. They weren't gawking at Harry, unlike most of the other students, so it was

safe to stare at them without fear of meeting an excessively interested pair of eyes. But it was none of these things that caught, and held, his attention.

They didn't look anything alike. Of the three boys, one was big — muscled like a serious weight lifter, with dark, curly hair. Another was taller, leaner, but still

muscular, and honey blond. The last was lanky, less bulky, with untidy, bronze colored hair. He was more boyish than the others, who looked like they could be

in college, or even teachers here rather than students.

The girls were opposites. The tall one was statuesque. She had a beautiful figure, the kind you saw on the cover of the Sports Illustrated swimsuit issue, the kind

that made every girl around her take a hit on her self-esteem just by being in the same room. Her hair was golden, gently waving to the middle of her back. The

short girl was pixielike, thin in the extreme, with small features. Her hair was a deep black, cropped short and pointing in every direction.

And yet, they were all exactly alike. Every one of them was chalky pale, the palest of all the students living in this sunless town. Paler than even he could remember Malfoy being.

They all had very dark eyes despite the range in hair tones. They also had dark shadows under those eyes — purplish, bruiselike shadows. As if they were all

suffering from a sleepless night, or almost done recovering from a broken nose. Probably the same as he looked from nightmare induced lack of sleep.

Though their noses, all their features, were straight, perfect, angular.

But all this is not why Harry couldn't look away.

He stared because their faces, so different, so similar, were all devastatingly, inhumanly beautiful. They were faces you never expected to see except perhaps

on the airbrushed pages of a fashion magazine. Or painted by an old master as the face of an angel. It was hard to decide who was the most beautiful — maybe

the perfect blond girl, or the bronze-haired boy.

They were all looking away — away from each other, away from the other students, away from anything in particular as far as he could tell. As he watched,

the small girl rose with her tray — unopened soda, unbitten apple — and walked away with a quick, graceful lope that belonged on a runway. He watched, amazed

at her lithe dancer's step, till she dumped her tray and glided through the back door, faster than he would have thought possible. His eyes darted back to the

others, who sat unchanging.

"Who are they?" Harry asked the girl from his spanish class, whose name he'd forgotten.

As she looked up to see who he meant — though already knowing, probably, from his tone — suddenly he looked at her, the thinner one, the boyish one, the

youngest, perhaps. He looked at Harry's neighbor for just a fraction of a second, and then his dark eyes flickered to Harry's.

He looked away quickly, and in a flush of embarrassment Harry dropped his eyes at once. In that brief flash of a glance, his face

held nothing of interest — it was as if she had called his name, and he'd looked up in involuntary response, already having decided not to answer.

The girl giggled in embarrassment, looking at the table like Harry did.

"That's Edward and Emmett Cullen, and Rosalie and Jasper Hale. The one who left was Alice Cullen; they all live together with Dr. Cullen and his wife." She

said this under her breath.

Harry glanced sideways at the beautiful boy, who was looking at his tray now, picking a bagel to pieces with long, pale fingers. His mouth was moving very

quickly, his perfect lips barely opening. The other three still looked away, and yet Harry felt he was speaking quietly to them."They are… breath-taking." He struggled with the conspicuous understatement.

"Yes!" Jessica, he finally remembered, agreed with another giggle. "They're all together though — Emmett and Rosalie, and Jasper and Alice, I mean. And they live together." Her

voice held all the shock and condemnation of the small town, he thought critically. I wonder what they would think if they knew about me. Harry thought darkly.

"Which ones are the Cullens?" Harry asked. "They don't look related…"

"Oh, they're not. Dr. Cullen is really young, in his twenties or early thirties.

They're all adopted. The Hales are brother and sister, twins — the blondes — and they're foster children."

"They look a little old for foster children."

"They are now, Jasper and Rosalie are both eighteen, but they've been with Mrs. Cullen since they were eight. She's their aunt or something like that."

"That's really kind of nice — for them to take care of all those kids like that, when they're so young and everything."

"I guess so," Jessica admitted reluctantly, and Harry got the impression that she didn't like the doctor and his wife for some reason. With the glances she was throwing

at their adopted children, he would presume the reason was jealousy. "I think that Mrs. Cullen can't have any kids, though," she added, as if that lessened their

kindness.

He scowled at her and asked, "What does that matter? So since she can't have kids she shouldn't raise them? More people should be as self sacrificing as her. It isn't any of your business if she can have them or not."

Jessica looked taken aback before she said, "What does that matter to you?"

Harry continued to glower at her while he said, "I know how it feels!"

"Oh!" Jessica said dumbly, "You're an orphan?"

"Ten points to you!" Harry muttered darkly before looking away.

Throughout all this conversation, his eyes flickered again and again to the table

where the strange family sat. They continued to look at the walls and not eat.

Jessica seemed to shake off Harry's anger and continued with her gossip.

"They just moved down two years ago from somewhere in Alaska."

Harry felt a surge of pity, and relief. Pity because, as beautiful as they were, they were outsiders, clearly not accepted. Relief that he wasn't the only newcomer here,

and certainly not the most interesting by any standard.

As Harry examined them, the youngest, one of the Cullens, looked up and met his gaze, this time with evident curiosity in his expression. As Harry looked swiftly

away, it seemed to him that the boy's glance held some kind of unmet expectation.

"Which one is the boy with the reddish brown hair?" Harry asked. He peeked at him from the corner of his eye, and he was still staring, but not gawking like

the other students had today — he had a slightly frustrated expression. Harry looked down again wondering why he was feeling all fluttery.

"That's Edward. He's gorgeous, of course, but he doesn't date. Apparently none of the girls here are good-looking enough for him." She

sniffed, a clear case of sour grapes. Harry wondered when he'd turned her down.

He bit his lip to hide his smile. Then he glanced at the boy again. His face was turned away, but Harry thought his cheek appeared lifted, as if he were smiling, too.

After a few more minutes, the four of them left the table together. They all were noticeably graceful — even the big, brawny one and Harry was once again reminded of Malfoy. It was unsettling to watch.

The one named Edward didn't look at him again.