"Just give up, Potter. It's never worked before, why should it work now?"

Harry was in front of his bathroom mirror, wet comb in hand, trying valiantly to make his hair lie flat. Unsurprisingly, his hair was winning, sticking up just the same as it had done since he was a child. Obviously it was just something he would have to accept about himself. Sighing, he threw the comb down in defeat.

It was Saturday evening and Harry was trying to make himself presentable to head over to Bella's house for Thanksgiving dinner. She had mumbled something about the day actually being Thursday but since her father was out of town they'd moved it to the weekend. Harry had only paid attention to where he had to be and when he had to be there; he still didn't much understand American holidays.

He wasn't entirely sure why he was putting so much effort into his appearance anyway. He knew Bella wouldn't care what he looked like, and he very much doubted the Chief would be expecting him to pull out anything special, but there was a part of Harry that wanted to look nice. He hadn't needed to dress up for anything since arriving in Forks and for most of his time here he wouldn't have been bothered even if it had been required. Now, however, things were different and Harry was changing. He needed to acknowledge that somehow.

Despite it only being three days since he and Carlisle had patched things up with one another, Harry felt better than he had in a long time. They had sat on his living room floor for several hours, Harry taking his time in looking at each of the photos in his album. It had been far easier to have someone there with him to whom he could point people out rather than wallowing in his grief alone. Carlisle had been a comforting presence, asking questions but respecting any of Harry's silences too. Watching his friends laughing and waving at him from the pages had been difficult but Harry was glad he had decided to look at them again; now their smiling faces would break through his nightmares offering him some peaceful moments of sleep like he hadn't had in months.

Carlisle had been fascinated by the moving photographs and the numerous magical textbooks that Harry had found and had already borrowed several of them to read himself. It was refreshing being able to introduce someone to the world of magic; seeing Carlisle's joy at the things that had become so normal to Harry was infectious, and Harry had promised himself he would show Edward and Bella the same soon.

He had spent the holiday on Thursday at the Cullens' house along with Bella giving them a wider lesson and practical demonstration of the different kinds of magic. It had been just as educational for Harry as he learned more about how spells affected vampires differently; basic charms didn't seem to have much effect at all while jinxes and the few hexes Harry was willing to try had a slightly muted effect on them. Overexcited, Emmett asked to see some of the Unforgiveables Harry had mentioned briefly, but he quailed under the glares from Carlisle and Edward; Harry had very suddenly grown quite pale. They enjoyed the rest of the day without magic after that.

Harry leant forwards over the basin and looked at himself carefully in the mirror. There were still dark shadows under his eyes and he knew they would be there for quite a while longer. He still had the gaunt look of someone who was underfed but pleasingly he had been steadily regaining his lost weight. The green of his eyes was still dull, but he knew there were times when the life returned to them; Bella always commented how nice it was when his eyes were sparkling. He was not yet healthy, but he was healing.

"I killed Voldemort," he said to the mirror. "That act does not define who I am. I helped save the wizarding world. That act does define who I am."

Harry had been repeating this daily manta since Wednesday evening. He had been serious when he promised he would make himself believe these words and stop blaming himself for everything.

"Ron is d–dead," he stammered. This was always the hardest part. "I am not responsible for his death. Nor is it my fault that Fred was murdered in battle. The Weasleys' losses are not my doing.

"Hermione is alive. She does not remember who I am. I made her a promise that I will keep.

"The only death I am responsible for is Voldemort's. But it does not define me as a killer." Harry finished and let out the shuddering breath he had been holding. Every morning and every evening he would say these words to the mirror. Each day he would add another of his friend's deaths that he was not responsible for, but his final words were always the same. He would not let murder define him.

Harry left the bathroom and went back into his bedroom. Artemis had returned a few days earlier and Harry had enjoyed having her company back.

"What do you think?" He asked her as he slid on his jacket over his shirt. "Presentable without looking like I'm trying too hard?" He received a soft hoot in reply. "That's good enough for me."

The clock beside his bed read five minutes to seven. He had told Bella he would make his own way there with magic.

"Ooh you mean teleporting?" she'd asked eagerly. Harry had only laughed – he still hadn't told them that it wasn't called teleporting. It amused him too much.

With one final check of himself and the wards he now left permanently around his house, Harry disapparated and appeared down the street from Bella's house. He quickly walked the rest of the way, trying to minimise the time spent in the freezing night air, and knocked on the Swans' front door at precisely seven o'clock. Bella opened the door and he quickly stepped into the warm house.

"You'd better realise you never have any excuse to be late to anything, not now I know you can teleport everywhere," she teased.

"You said seven, I'm here at seven, what's the problem?" He defended good-naturedly as he took off his jacket.

"You're looking smart tonight," Bella commented. "Shame about the hair." She laughed at the disgruntled look on his face.

Harry took in a deep breath. The smell of turkey permeated the whole house and filled Harry with a tremendous sense of warmth. It reminded him of the feasts at Hogwarts and the Burrow, and he smiled sadly at the memories.

"Come into the kitchen, it's almost ready," Bella said, moving towards the delicious smells. Harry followed and opened his mouth to ask where her father was but he didn't need to.

"Was that Harry, Bells?" The man walked in from the television room, can of beer in hand. "Ah, how're you doing, kid?" It was asked kindly enough but Harry could still sense the underlying awkwardness. He still hadn't properly spoken to the Chief since returning to Forks, too worried about the questions he would ask about the wards that had been around his house. At this stage his only defence was to feign ignorance, but he knew that wouldn't last very long with the man. Bella had so far managed to supervise any accidental interaction that occurred between her father and her friend on tutoring days, and the man had grudgingly accepted that Harry was safe and left it at that.

"I'm fine, thanks, Chief Swan," he replied as casually as he could. Charlie grimaced slightly and waved his hand.

"It's the holidays, call me Charlie." Harry nodded, internally sure that he didn't quite feel comfortable enough yet to call the man by his first name. "I've been wanting to chat, you know, about –"

"Dinner's ready!" Bella suddenly called out despite only being a few feet away. "Harry give me a hand with this." Giving her a grateful look, Harry hurried over to help. "We'll get this together, Dad, don't worry about it!" And she shuffled her grumbling father back out towards the television.

"Sorry about that, Harry," she said as she came back over to the oven. "I told him not to pester you today. He might need to be reminded though," she growled, sending a dark look towards the door Charlie had just walked out.

"Don't worry about it," Harry said, trying not to burn his hands on the potatoes. "I can manage for one evening. Just talk to me about the more normal bits of my old life, that'll keep him happy, I'm sure." They dished up three heaping plates of turkey and the various accompaniments Bella had cooked. Harry was amazed at how much food there was for three people; he had no doubt this would be the best meal he'd had since coming to America.

"This looks amazing, Bella!" Harry praised as the three of them sat down to eat.

"He's right, Bells, smells great too," Charlie added. Bella smiled at the praise and they all began to eat ravenously.

"Dad, did you know that Harry went to a boarding school in Scotland?" Bella asked of her father. Harry smiled into his plate; he was lucky to have found such a good friend in Bella.

They spent the rest of the meal discussing trivial things of Harry's past as well as things happening in school. Harry could tell that the Chief was slightly put out at not being able to grill him over his disappearance, but as predicted the man seemed placated at seeing Harry enjoying himself and talking about his life back home. Harry smiled knowing that he wouldn't have been able to do this a few months ago; it made his recovery seem that much more real.

By the end of the meal as well as dessert – Bella had baked an incredible pumpkin pie which Harry rated almost as highly as his old favourite treacle tart – they could barely move for having eaten so much. Charlie quickly retired back to the television, thanking Bella once more for cooking, and leaving the two teenagers alone at the kitchen table.

"This has been great, Bella," Harry said quietly. "Thanks for inviting me over." He wanted to thank her for more than just tonight, but he couldn't find the words. He was thankful that she had accepted him after discovering what he was and for still treating him just the same. The two of them and Edward made quite the group and he was more grateful for them than they knew.

"Of course, Harry," she smiled at him. "I'm glad I could give you a normal family holiday. God knows you've earned one." They began to clear the plates, moving slowly due to their over-filled stomachs. Just as they were finishing the dishes, Bella's phone chimed.

"Huh," she said, looking strangely at her phone, "that's weird."

"What is?" Harry asked, wiping the last plate dry.

"A text from Mike. He wants me to watch something on the internet." She looked at Harry, one eyebrow raised. "Come on then," and she lead the way up to her bedroom.

Harry followed, Bella already at her computer when he entered her room. He went to sit beside her as she searched for the link Mike had sent her. Eventually she found the video and they sat waiting for it to load, Harry unable to shake an uncomfortable feeling that had settled on him; something told him this wasn't going to be a light-hearted film.

It finished loading and began to play. A deep frown marred Harry's face as he watched the dark room on the screen, something about it tugging at his memories; this all looked very familiar. When a figure ran into frame, he felt his stomach drop.

"Harry," Bella gasped. "That's you!" And it was. Harry watched on as his final night in Forks hospital played out on the screen; he watched the ceiling lights shatter in his anger as his magic unfurled around him, and as Kingsley's patronus appeared glowing in the room to deliver its message. His eyes glued helplessly to the computer, Harry watched himself pull out the Elder Wand and disapparate, screaming in pain.

"No," Harry whispered. "No, no, no." This couldn't be happening. Carlisle said – he'd promised – that he'd deleted the footage. Now it was here, on the internet, for the whole world to see.

"Oh my God," Bella said. "That's you leaving the hospital, isn't it?" Harry could barely hear her. Fear and anger were causing the blood to rush through his ears.

"He promised," he cried. "He told me it was gone. He lied to me!" Harry was on his feet, wand in hand.

"Harry, wait!" Bella's shouting brought him back to the present. He tried to take calming breaths but he couldn't. He looked out the window madly as though expecting the Ministry to come storming in brandishing the Statute of Secrecy at him. "Tell me what's going on, please."

"That," he thrust his hand at the computer, "is me using magic, broadcast across the world. Carlisle told me he wiped the security cameras, that no one would ever find that footage. I'm dead. If the Ministry or whoever's in charge in this country finds that, I'm a goner! How do we take it down?! He promised me, he promised me!" He was trying not to scream, not wanting the Chief to know that anything was wrong.

"Carlisle wouldn't have told you it was gone if he didn't believe it, Harry. Obviously someone managed to dig it up, someone who knew it would be there." Harry stopped his pacing. Could it be the same person who'd stolen the Elder Wand? He hadn't told Bella or the Cullens about that, not wanting them to worry about him any more than they already were. But if this person was now risking exposure of wizards to flush him out…

"I need to talk to him," Harry said suddenly. "I need to talk to all of you, actually. Now." Harry was ready to apparate to the Cullens', but Bella made him wait again.

"What about Charlie?" She asked him quickly.

"What about him?"

"What's he going to think if he comes up and realises we're both gone? Knowing him he'll think you've kidnapped me. Not to mention the noise you make when you disappear," she added.

It would delay them, but Harry had to concede she had a point. "Alright, come on then, we'll pretend I'm going home. I'll be back in here in a minute," he explained as he cast a silencing charm on Bella's door. "You should probably let Edward know we need them to come back." The Cullens had gone hunting tonight for their own Thanksgiving 'dinner'. Harry only hoped they hadn't strayed too far from home.

He and Bella trudged down the stairs.

"Dad, Harry's going home," Bella called, her face still pale from the video. Hoping to save time, Harry poked his head quickly into the television room.

"Don't bother getting up, Bella's showing me out. Thanks for having me," he said as casually as he could, adding in a fake yawn for good measure.

"No worries, kid," came the reply as Charlie sunk back down into his couch; he had been halfway to standing.

Harry turned around and raced out the front door. "I'll be back in your room in thirty seconds," he said, sprinting off into the dark. He needed to put some distance between himself and the Swan house before apparating back into Bella's room otherwise the Chief might come storming out looking for a gunfight. Once he was sure he was far enough away, Harry turned on the spot appearing once more in Bella's empty room. He glared at her computer, the damning video still open. Unable to look at it anymore, he closed it down and switched it off.

The door opened behind him, startling him until he realised it was only Bella. She looked surprised to see him and shut the door behind her.

"I didn't even hear you come in," she whispered.

"You don't have to whisper," Harry said. "I've put a silencing charm on your door; we could be yelling and your dad would be none the wiser."

"I told him I was going to bed so he shouldn't come in here while we're gone," she added, holding out her hand to Harry. "Let's go then."

"Hold onto your dinner," he advised, grasping her hand. "It's not the most pleasant way to travel." Gripping tightly, he turned on the spot, pulling Bella along into the darkness.

"Oof!" Bella cried as their feet hit the ground. Unfortunately, her feet didn't stay underneath her and she toppled over, pulling Harry along with her.

"Ouch," Harry groaned. "You're as bad as me with the Floo." He pushed himself up and held out a hand to her.

"You fall over when you have the flu?" She asked, confused, as she dusted herself off.

"No, not the – never mind, I'll tell you some other time." He looked around. They were standing outside the Cullens' house; all the lights were off inside and it was freezing out in the night air. "How far away d'you think –"

"Is everything alright?!" Edward skidded to a stop in front of them both, spraying mud in every direction. The rest of his family followed soon after, and suddenly there was a whole coven of concerned looking vampires in the yard. Harry couldn't help but immediately round on Carlisle.

"You told me that you'd wiped those cameras!" He cried, finally able to unleash the stress of the situation now he didn't have to keep quiet. "You promised me that no one would find it!"

Carlisle stared at him, stunned. "What are you talking about, Harry?"

"Those cameras that caught me using magic in the hospital," he clarified angrily, "the ones that I took the blame for tampering with despite it having been you!" His breath was frosting in the cold air, misting in front of him and shrouding Carlisle's face.

"I did wipe them," he defended, bewildered by Harry's anger. "What's happened that makes you say otherwise?"

"We can show you," Bella interrupted before Harry could begin yelling again. "But we need a computer. Can we go inside?"

Jasper raced ahead of them to get the computer running. The others followed, Harry glancing at his watch every few seconds; it had already been half an hour since they discovered the video themselves. How long had it been public before that? An hour? More?

Bella took over from Jasper at the computer and quickly found the video again. Harry couldn't bear to watch it again, busying himself with staring out the window, waiting for the Ministry to come snap his wand and cart him off to Azkaban. The silence behind him was deafening.

"Jasper," Carlisle said tersely, "can you find a way to trace it? Can it be taken down?" Harry turned around to look at the concerned faces; he was at least grateful they were taking the situation seriously.

"I should be able to take it down but it's hard to know how far it's spread," he admitted ruefully. His fingers became a blur as they moved across the keyboard, but he shook his head angrily. "I can't trace any sort of identification, it's encrypted too strongly."

Carlisle flashed out of the room and returned seconds later in a fresh change of clothes.

"I'm going to the hospital," he announced. "I want to see if whoever stole the footage left any trace in the security room."

"I'm coming," Harry said, jumping up at once from the window sill. "I can get you there faster, too," he added sensing Carlisle's hesitancy.

"Alright then," he agreed, moving towards Harry. "Jasper keep working on that video, the rest of you see if you can find it anywhere else online." He placed his hand on Harry's shoulder, ready to leave.

"Wait," Harry blurted suddenly. "There's something I haven't told you." Everyone's eyes turned to him, even Jasper's, his fingers still working at the keyboard. Harry steeled himself with a deep breath. "I think someone wants me dead. Someone in Forks." He told them about the Elder Wand being stolen from his house and about its history.

"You didn't think to tell us this sooner?" Edward demanded. "We could have followed a scent left behind, but that was a month ago now; there'll be nothing left!" Admittedly, Harry hadn't thought of that.

"Edward," Carlisle chastised gently before turning to look at Harry. "I didn't think anyone else here knew you were a wizard?"

"Neither did I," Harry agreed. "But now I wonder if it's not the same person who found the video."

"Then you can't go to the hospital," Bella said. "Not if there's someone there who wants you dead!" Harry was annoyed to see looks of agreeance appearing on the other faces in the room.

"I'm going," he declared. "I can look after myself. Carlisle, let's go." He held his hand out to the man who had backed away at Harry's revelations. He didn't move at first, staring intently at Harry as though determining what to make of him. He obviously decided he agreed with Harry as he reached out to grasp Harry's forearm.

"Remember what I said," he reminded his family. "We'll be in touch." Nodding at Harry, the pair turned where they stood and vanished with a crack.

A second later they were standing in the darkness of Carlisle's office inside Forks Hospital. Carlisle coped far better with apparating than Bella, but even he looked dazed at the sudden change in location.

"That truly is incredible," he admired softly. Harry smiled despite the situation.

"Head to the security room, you reckon?" Harry posed the question quietly, not being able to hear if there was anyone outside in the corridor.

"I think that would be the wisest place to go, yes," Carlisle agreed. "We're safe at the moment; there's no one in any of the nearby corridors. We'll want to move swiftly though to avoid running into too many people." He gazed at Harry uncertainly. "It might appear odd, you wandering around the hospital with me this late at night."

"This would be so much easier with my cloak," Harry muttered. He moved to open the door. "Well then it's your job to keep an ear out." He opened the door and they stepped out into the brightly lit hospital.

Carlisle immediately moved ahead of him, leading the way to the security room. The man was good, Harry had to admit; they met nobody at all along the way. Carlisle pulled out an old bobby pin from his pocket once they reached the locked door and Harry had to roll his eyes with a smile.

"Alohomora."

A soft click could be heard before Carlisle had even had a chance to insert the bobby pin. He smiled broadly at Harry and opened the door. Harry looked around at the multiple computer screens, all showing different parts of the hospital. He hoped Carlisle knew what he was looking for; Harry wouldn't have had a clue where to begin.

Carlisle stood in the middle of the room with his eyes closed. Harry opened his mouth to ask what he was doing but was quickly silenced by a raised finger from the man. After a minute, he opened his eyes again, frowning deeply.

"There is something old. I am sure it's familiar," he murmured. "Someone in the hospital, but who?" He ran his hand through his sleek hair in thought, not disturbing a single lock from its place.

"You sure it isn't just the security guards you can sense?" Harry asked, not liking the thought of a doctor wanting him dead. "They'd be in here every day, wouldn't they? And we don't know how long ago they managed to get the video."

"That's true," Carlisle mused. "I'm still sure it's a smell I recognise from elsewhere in the hospital though. Someone that wouldn't be from security. It's so incredibly faint." He sat down at one of the computers, still frowning, and began to type away furiously. "I'll try and find when the data was last accessed. How they would have known how to recover wiped data…" he trailed off, clearly disturbed at the thought one of his colleagues was behind this.

Struck by a sudden thought, Harry asked, "Can you access patient files on these computers?"

"No, only security data goes through here," he responded, eyebrow cocked in confusion. "Why do you ask?"

"I thought it could have been one of the staff members who was involved when I was here as a patient. There should be entries from each of them at various times, shouldn't there?" Perhaps if they had a list to start with, Carlisle could narrow down his suspicions.

"That's a possibility," Carlisle agreed, now deep within the computer's software. "I admittedly don't know every single staff member who looked in on you over those days. You're right, though, that there should be chart entries from them. Do you think you can get back to my office without trouble? There's a copy of your file I kept in there from when I was trying to learn more about you. Sorry about that, by the way." He added as an afterthought, giving Harry a guilty look. Harry waved him off.

"I'll just apparate," he assured the man. "You just keep doing whatever it is you're doing and I'll be back as soon as I can." He gave Carlisle one last reassuring smile and stepped into the compressive darkness, appearing once more in Carlisle's office.

"Right then," he muttered softly, "secret Potter files." He walked over to the filing cabinet, lighting his wand to see what he was doing. It didn't take him long to find it, pulling it out and opening it up on Carlisle's desk. The man had clearly read it many times, the folder lying open flat easily. Harry pored over the pages, noting every name that was signed. It didn't help that most of them only had their surname and initialled their first names; he saw many entries from C. Cullen but no others that he recognised. He was flicking through the final pages when a name jumped out at him.

S. Prestwick.

Harry's eyes widened. Surely it was a coincidence. There must be lots of people around the world with the last name Prestwick. He realised he had no idea what the new Minister's first name was, but was sure she had never set foot in his hospital room. He racked his brain trying to think of any doctor or nurse who he had met with a name beginning with S but his mind was drawing a blank. He'd have to ask Carlisle; he would know for sure.

A huge crash from outside the office startled Harry, making him jump high in the air. He drew his wand and pointed it at the door, unsure of what to do. He heard someone outside groaning in pain but couldn't hear anyone else rushing to help. He knew he should just go back to Carlisle, but he couldn't just leave someone who was so clearly hurt.

Keeping his wand drawn, Harry walked to the door and opened it slowly. A few metres down the corridor was a nurse sprawled on the floor along with the contents of the trolley she had been pushing. Glancing up and down the corridor, Harry plastered his fringe over his scar just in case and hurried to help her.

"Are you alright?" He asked her, helping her to her feet. She didn't seem to be injured, but she was definitely shaken and winced in pain as she stood.

"Oh, thank-you dearie," she said. She would only have been in her forties at a guess, Harry figured. He thought he vaguely recognised her as one of the nurses who had looked after him; she certainly looked familiar. "These horrible trolleys have a mind of their own sometimes, I swear to you."

"Do you need a hand picking everything up?" He asked, not wanting to stay, but feeling obliged to offer his assistance. Something about this woman was tugging at his memories, making the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end.

"Oh I can handle most of it, I think," she assured him. "If you wouldn't mind just fetching that bottle down there; it rolled an awful long way, didn't it?"

Harry turned to fetch the bottle, his memories finally filling in the gaps for him.

"Suzanne," he said suddenly to himself. This nurse's name was Suzanne. He reached down for the bottle, hand only centimetres from it when Suzanne spoke.

"That's right. I told my sister you would remember me. Good-bye, Chosen One."

Harry's hand closed around the bottle as her words sunk in. He had time to look up at her in shock and see a wide, manic grin cross her face before he felt an all too familiar jerk behind his navel, pulling him away from Forks and into the darkness.