Gotta Be Somebody

By

Echo of a Memory

…

Harry Potter © J.K. Rowling

Twilight Saga © Stephanie Meyer

Chapter 1: The Broken

Nothing had gone the way it was supposed to.

At least not in the way Dumbledore had pitched his vision for their scenario. The elderly wizard had painted a vivid picture how he had planned for their offensive campaign against the Deatheaters and Voldemort. Everything had seemed to work perfectly at first.

Then it went straight to hell.

Their slow decline all started with was supposed to be a surprise attack. It was a way to give a blow to the darker forces giving Harry's side the advantage and paving the way to victory. However, the devil was indeed in the details.

Their fight was inevitable led by Dumbledore, Pillar of the Britain's Magical Community, there were certain scenarios they didn't account for. Their stratagems never survived enemy contact.

The Dark Lord had more recruits and greater numbers than the headmaster had reported. They were also outfitted with better equipment, trained better, and more than willing to kill.

Even with the disadvantage, the Light side had tactics and experience on their side...of sorts. Harry's side never truly had a united force, unlike his adversary. For the most part, they fared well. Especially when he served as the point of the Spear. Having had the plan drilled in their heads before hand, they fought as one and followed it to perfection.

They fought and continued fighting on when things took a turn for the worst. Hermione's ingenious use of Churchill's famous 1941 Harrow School speech ensured their resolve to see the fight to the end.

After all, they had Dumbledore's plan and the Boy-Who-Lived on their side. And because they followed the man blindly, it had cost them dearly.

Dull, emerald eyes watched disinterestedly as the clouds swept by the small port window. It had been a long ride and he still had a while before he reached his destination. Not that he couldn't have been reached it easily by magical means, but at the moment he just didn't feel like it.

He didn't feel like much of anything these days anyways. Everything just seemed to pass him by in daze. Well not everything, at least his self preservation instincts were still very much intact and functioning. The fact that he had summoned enough consciousness to arrange for this getaway said that much. Still, even this far from Britain didn't help keep away the ghosts that haunted him.

They were gone. All of them.

And he was tired. So very, very tired of it all.

He had tried so hard. He'd bled, sweat, been tortured and for what?

In the end he hadn't been able to protect any of them.

He couldn't save them.

Harry tucked his head into the small pillow, provided for such long flights, and tried to doze off. After fighting for so long and being the victim of so many circumstances, he'd developed into an extremely light sleeper.

And he had nightmares. Perhaps this new beginning would help him heal, if only a little.

Trying to get comfortable, he squirmed in his seat a bit before giving up. He'd never be able to sleep here.

Who was he kidding? He just wanted to get away from it all.

It had all seemed like a dream come true. He'd been rescued from the horrible drudgery that were his relatives and sent to live in a magical place where the fantastic was everyday life.

He'd made friends, learned magic, and found family. He was somebody to someone and his life mattered. He could be a child for a little while and not have to worry about having to do chores or running from Dudley.

Then he was introduced to the ugly, dark side of magic.

All of his wonder and awe, naïveté and enthusiasm were shattered piece by piece with each horrible truth. Even that ugliness that paled in comparison as to the weight expectations placed on his shoulders. Somehow he was expected to fight evil and triumph.

Or die in the process.

Either way was acceptable to Britain's Wizarding folk.

Sheer exhaustion slowly forced Harry into a fitful sleep as the plane roared around him.

Green, unseeing eyes took in the field blankly. The devastated grounds stained red.

They had been blindsided by a flank attack. what passed for their front lines were manned by the Inner Circle causing most of the Order to direct its focus there. With most of their more powerful and experienced wizards and witches elsewhere, those back in 'Base Camp' should have been on high alert and looking out for the most formidable, and dangerous foe. He seemed to be absent from the field that day, some had wondered where he could be.

And then HE struck. It was without warning and on their weak side, which was the side that the DA had been manning. Screams of pain, horror, and torture, ripped through the battlefield. And then the explosions began.

Dust and smoke filled the air, obscuring the field around him. The very air burned his lungs and made his eyes water.

The smoking ground was littered with ashes, bodies, rubble, fires, and death. The only sound that heard was the crackling of the flames and his breathing.

Hands, slick with his blood, grasped onto the holly wand shaking slightly from exhaustion. A small rivulet streamed down the tip and dripped on the ground.

He took a shaky step as he staggered forward. His foot slid out from under him as soon as it came down. He grunted when he met the ground with a dull thud.

With a painful exhausted groan, he pushed himself upright. Coming out of the daze, Harry looked around to see what he slipped on and froze in horror.

Half of a torso lay mutilated in front of him, the intestines and organs splattered every which way. Shakily he glanced down towards his legs and almost gagged.

Long, white, stringy intestines wrapped around his ankle, juices soaking into his already filthy clothing. Parts of it were smashed and squished into the ground where he'd slipped.

Harry scrambled backwards, beyond disgusted and frightened. Turning to retch he came face to face with the torso's mutilated head. He screamed.

The seat belt sign chimed jerking the weary wizard awake from his spiraling nightmares. Harry flicked a glanced around before looking out the window. It was dark out and he could barely make out the runway lights through the fog even as the cabin shook around him. Harry's white knuckled hands clenched around his arm rests.

They would be landing soon and he would be that much closer to his destination.

Harry sighed inaudibly as the jet engines roared signaling that they were coming in for a landing. He was scheduled for a short layover before catching the next flight up to Seattle. From there he would rent a car and head down into a small, obscure community some hours away and look for a place to retire.

San Francisco International Airport glittered back at him through the window and fog. The cabin jostled around him as the plane roared its touchdown on the tarmac.

Harry retreated into himself as the longest leg of his journey had completed itself. He'd wondered what it would look like. Getting a quick description from a traveling business man when he'd been waiting at Heathrow wasn't that informative.

Choosing the Americas and a small town, named Forks of all things, had actually repelled him at first. The maps showed that is was a place that was out of the way. Somewhere no one would ever think to look for him. Harry could have gone anywhere. Had actually planned for it. He was leaving all that was known and familiar behind.

If he was trying to lay low, he could have chosen to stay in one of the larger cities and become another anonymous face in the crowd. It would have suited his purpose but not allowed him to nurse his wounds. However, after all his time at Hogwarts and Little Whinging, he learned that he didn't want to be around a populace that was larger than three digits.

Coming across this small nothing town, Forks, in his research was by chance, pure and simple. From everything he was able to find, which wasn't much, it sounded like a place that would suit his needs. He wasn't completely sold on community though. He definitely would need to scout out the town and surrounding areas first.

If he ever did feel the need to be amongst civilization again, Seattle was a drive away and that was somewhat comforting. One major selling point, though, was that there were no known magical being, creatures or otherwise within the major area. Seattle had a small community, but it was mostly deemed as Goth territory and the like. It was nothing that was taken seriously by anyone, especially, European wizards who would scoff and mostly likely label them backwater hicks.

Most of America's magical communities were centered on the east coast and a few down south in the major cities along the Mexico-US border. From what little information he could scrounge (Which wasn't nearly enough), Harry realized that the North American continent was pretty much magically blind. Something of a frontier even.

The most supernatural he would probably find would be the odd Bigfoot or a lake monster and chances of running into either of those were slim at best. And it was also perfect for, say, a wizard trying to hide and not want their magical signature found out or tracked. And if something did happen, he could slip away into the forest and head for the mountains.

What drew him most was the small town idea of living and the isolation the location provided. It seemed an ideal existence and peaceful. Something he desperately wanted.

The bump of the wheels making contact with the runway let him know they had touched down and the sudden pull forward signaled that they were slowing. Harry stuffed the pillow beside him and waited for the flight attendants to give the passengers the signal.

He almost made it. Just a few more hours of travel and he'd be there.

With a sigh, the raven haired teen ran a tired hand through his shaggy locks, grimacing at the oily feel. Just another reminder of someone lost to him. He shoved the thoughts away. Hopefully he'd be able to get to a hotel soon and shower.

Then maybe, just maybe, he'd be able to keep his nightmares at bay for one night.

TBC...

A/N: Wells, here goes then. Just another one of your standard Harry Potter/Twilight Crossovers…then again maybe not (*grins maniacally*). I mean, I think this might be something completely from left field. Oh, the surprises ahead (*rubs hands gleefully*).

Enjoy!

Echo 1/17/2009, ED: 11/5/2020