A/N: ...WOW. You guys are amazing. I was hoping for a good reaction to the new story, but FORTY-SOME reviews on the FIRST CHAPTER? In less than a day, as well. Thank you guys sooo much I hope you like this chapter, things move fast but I hate dragging things out - and I suppose they're not moving TOO fast. You'll see what I mean. xD

DISCLAIMER: I only own my Pokemon games and my laptop. And maybe my bookshelves full of books. And a whole lot of other stuff that doesn't include Twilight OR Harry Potter. ;3

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The New Dawning

Chapter Two: The House on Black Hill

"It is not love that is blind, but jealousy." ~Lawrence Durrell

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August 9, 1999

It was obvious to anybody looking at the large man that Paul Walker was lost in thought. He was not just dwelling on the surface, because the man was so gone that he didn't even bother to pretend to be in the conversation his packmates were having.

Thoughts of a black-haired, green-eyed boy were haunting his every waking moment, and Paul could not bear the thought of what would happen the next time he had patrol...which happened to be tomorrow. Everybody would be able to see his thoughts, and that was just not okay with Paul, who had not even come to terms with his imprinting on a boy. He ached to be in his wolf form again, but he couldn't risk everyone else finding out before he'd even figured it all out for himself.

He knew he wasn't gay. Well, at least, he'd never thought of himself as gay – he'd never liked anyone but women, after all. His eyes had never lingered in the locker room, he'd never Googled pictures of naked men, nothing. And that was a sure sign that he didn't like men, right?

And then there was the problem about his imprinting on a man – boy – didn't you imprint on the person who would be able to pass on the shapeshifting gene the easiest? Or give you the most children? Well, men obviously can't have children.

It had only been three days since Paul and Harry first locked eyes. Not that Paul knew the smaller boy's name was Harry – and Harry certainly didn't know Paul, either. All three of those days had consisted of eating, sleeping, and Paul wracking his brain to try and figure out how it was possible that he'd imprinted on a boy. But each and every time, he came up short, and decided that it just wasn't possible and he must have made a mistake – either he hadn't imprinted, or the boy was actually just a really masculine female.

Somehow, though, Paul knew both of those facts were false. As the days went on, his chest began to hurt with the separation. Quil Ateara used to jabber on that this would happen to him when Claire's parents went away on vacation during the summer and took Claire with them, but that it would go away as soon as Claire was close again. Sam called it the Imprint Radar, saying that the wolf somehow knew when the imprint was too far away for too long.

Paul closed his eyes in frustration, because now he had just decided he'd dreamed the whole thing and just hadn't woken up yet. When he opened his eyes, only Sam was left in front of him, Emily bustling around her kitchen. Working up his nerve, the temperamental shapeshifter looked at his alpha and murmured,

"Sam?"

"Hm?" the slightly older man asked, rolling his shoulder-blades and picking at a muffin.

Paul weighed his options, and then made it seem like he was just plainly curious. "Has a wolf ever imprinted on someone of the same gender before?"

He watched as Paul looked up, eyes calculating, clearly trying to remember. After a few moments, Sam sat back and put his arms behind his head.

"Yeah, a couple of times, I guess," Sam decided. "Years and years ago, around the time that the treaty was made, there was a wolf who imprinted on a boy," there was no need to say 'a male wolf' because Leah was the only female shapeshifter in history. "The boy turned out to be some sort of creature that could bear children, I guess. And then there was another couple before that, when the gene almost died out because not enough children were being born as is. The boy was the same creature as the other boy, but both he and his imprint died before any children could be conceived." Sam took a long drink of his Coca Cola, and then wiped his mouth and continued. "I've always thought that these were partly true and partly myth. I can totally see wolves imprinting on the same gender, and I can see there being other creatures out there apart from werewolves, vampires, and shapeshifters – but I cannot see males bearing children, which is the part I think is a myth. Why do you ask?"

Paul shrugged uncomfortably, and Sam must have realized why Paul asked, because he made this affirming sound in the back of his throat.

"I see... have you talked to him yet, then?"

He shook his head, a little ashamed. "It happened three days ago and I was so freaked out that I just...got up and left. I haven't seen him since."

Sam rolled his shoulders again, as if readying himself for battle. "Paul, if you don't talk to him soon, both of you could end up in a really bad state. The pain is worse for the imprint – I have no doubt you're beginning to feel it, but he probably began to feel it yesterday and it's probably worsening at this moment. It's not really that bad right now, but leave it for two weeks and I can promise you it'll be crippling."

Paul touched his chest, where the pain had blossomed early this morning. It wasn't that bad – kind of like he'd been running and was a teensy bit out of breath, but not something anybody couldn't handle. The other boy probably hadn't even begun to realize something was wrong yet. But ...if what Sam said was true...Paul couldn't let that happen to the poor boy.

"I don't think he's very old," Paul admitted. "He looked young. Fourteen, maybe fifteen. But he shouldn't be hard to find, since he's – he's not the same color as us," Paul had a hard time being racist, since everyone on the rez had heard the slurs at one point or another, and it did hurt. "He's pale."

"Hmm," Sam muttered. "I heard rumors that the house on Black Hill is occupied again."

Paul was a bit surprised to hear this. Everyone knew that the house on Black Hill had been empty for over one hundred years – it had once, long ago, belonged to Jacob Black's family, but rumor had it that Jacob's great-great-great ancestors were disowned for some reason or another, but allowed to keep the name, and so the house ceased belonging to them. That was back around the time when the La Push myths said that La Push was still full of magic – which is, where legend has it, around the time when the shapeshifters came to be. But the Black Manor, which sat on the hill and gave the hill its name, had emptied before the time when the treaty was signed. How the house was still standing, let alone fit for living in, was beyond Paul...but it was a good place to start looking for his imprint.

The only problem was that it was said you couldn't actually reach the house. You could see it from afar, and walk up the drive, but around the middle of the driveway you'd stop and couldn't go any further. There were several variations of this story – some said that you'd be stopped by an invisible wall, some said you physically could not force yourself to walk any further in that direction, and others claimed that every time they'd get to that point they'd suddenly remember something they had to do (they'd left the stove on, they were going to be late for something, anything really) and would simply turn and leave, forgetting all about why they were there in the first place. Now, Paul hadn't ever been superstitious before becoming a wolf, but now he knew that there were things out there that were beyond natural explanation, and that is definitely one of them.

He was about to bring this up to Sam when the other man stretched and stated, "I know that everyone says you can't get up there, but let's try anyways."

– – –

Harry was again examining himself in the mirror. Though he'd been sleeping a bit better since moving to America, his eating habits had stayed the same – meaning he ate next to nothing. Actually, that was a lie. He ate good sometimes – but only at the diner. He knew that his eating habits didn't make him look good. In fact, he looked utterly disgusting. He needed to eat more, but he just couldn't make himself eat more.

It was yesterday night when he'd gone to the diner to eat and met Seth Clearwater. The boy was a bit younger than him – three years – but was extremely fun to hang out with. He made Harry smile and laugh in ways that he hadn't done since before Voldemort had gotten his body back. The very first day they met, Seth had taken him on a tour of La Push (which he'd only seen very little of) and they'd went swimming. Well, Seth had swam, and Harry had waded because he really didn't know how to swim. It was only luck in the Second Task of the Triwizard Tournament that he was able to make any headway in the water, because before that day, he'd not swum a day in his life.

Today, Seth was coming over for the first time. When Harry had let slip where he lived, Seth had gone all wide-eyed and gape-y, doing a very good impression of a fish. He'd let out this awed, "You live on Black Hill?" and then begged until Harry invited him over.

Harry tugged on his clothing and then slipped down the stairs. He liked this house well enough. It was in good repair, just a little musty after being shut up for so long. He'd inherited it with the rest of the Black estates when Sirius died, but this was the smallest town he could find, so that's what he chose. It was not likely that anybody around these parts would recognize him, and that's just what Harry needed.

What Harry didn't like, though, was the Slytherin propaganda found everywhere within the house. He'd had the portraits torn down already, and sent the little family of House-Elves that had taken residence in the house off to Hogwarts, where they were much happier. But still, even now, he was taking down snake insignias, throwing out Slytherin-embellished cups, spoons, posters, candle-sticks...there were even snake-shaped faucets in the bathrooms that he had begun getting rid of.

The doorbell rang and Harry smiled, actually excited for his new friend to be over. One of the first things Harry'd done when he moved in was take down the muggle repelling charms – honestly, it was amazing that the Blacks hadn't been brought in for breaking the statute of secrecy with how many rumors were flying about the 'bewitched' Black Hill. Harry jogged down to answer the door, pulling it open to see Seth standing there a little curious and a lot afraid.

"It's not going to murder me if I come in, is it?" Seth wondered.

Harry cocked an eyebrow. "What is 'it'?"

"The house."

"Oh," Harry shrugged. "Well, I'm still alive," he responded – because honestly he had been wondering the same thing when he first moved in and had to gut out all of the notorious dark items. But now they were all gone, save maybe a stinging teapot in the basement, but Harry wasn't taking Seth to the basement. Mostly because the basement even gave Harry the creeps, which was why there was still a stinging teapot down there.

"So," Seth stated, slipping off his shoes. "How'd you come into this house, anyways? I didn't think it was for sale."

"That's because it wasn't," Harry said smartly, offering Seth something to drink. When the boy asked what he had, Harry just stepped away from the (newly installed) refrigerator and let him rifle through it himself. "I inherited it from my godfather when he passed away."

"I'm sorry," Seth said, and then, "Are you, like, rich or something?"

Harry cocked his head, making himself some cocoa. "I guess you could say that. Most of it's not because of me, though, so I usually say that my family is well-off. My parents left me a bunch of money when they died, and so did my godfather – he claimed me as his sole heir before he died, since he didn't have any children."

Seth raised an eyebrow. "Do you all talk like you're kings in England?" he wondered, and then realized it may be offensive and corrected himself. "I mean, like... all proper and stuff. You keep saying 'heir' instead of 'kid' and everything, and I just.." it was hard to see the blush under Seth's russet skin, but it was definitely there.

"I know what you mean. Where I come from, there's a lot of old families and a lot of old money to be passed down. If you don't name somebody to claim the money, it will be absorbed into the government when the last in your line dies. So we name 'heirs' – usually it's the firstborn child, but if you don't have children, you can claim a close friend's child or something – to take our money and property when we die," Harry explained lightly. "As an example, I'm the last Potter. If I don't have children, I'll claim my godson as my heir and he'll inherit the Potter estates and banks and the Black estates and banks, because those are in my possession."

Seth made a face. "Well, that's not really fair to the other kids, is it?"

Harry laughed. "Not at all. Which is why some of the better families – er, the families who don't always stick to tradition – split the funds between their children. That's what I'd do."

Seth nodded, and then prodded Harry into giving him a tour of the place.

The Black Manor – or, the one in Washington – was rather large, with three stories and a basement. There was room for twelve or thirteen people to live in it, when you took in to consideration the guest quarters and the family quarters. Seth was fascinated by the old-styled bathrooms, most of which didn't have showers yet. He also, somewhat jokingly, said, "Whoa...can I move in with you?"

It was around dinner time when Seth finally had to leave. Harry had made them lunch, and they'd laid in front of the television on their bellies watching a movie that Seth liked, which had a lot of shooting and shrieking and death in it. It was kind of humorous to Harry, who had experienced many people dying, to see how badly Hollywood recreated death scenes.

"Alright..." Harry murmured, pretending to pout for a moment to get Seth to laugh. A moment later, he was graced with the laugh, and they parted ways.

– – –

Paul and Sam were coming up the driveway to the Black Manor when someone came out of the house. It was a big someone, and whoever it was moved quickly down the drive as if he had somewhere to be. Paul was startled to find that it was Seth Clearwater, one of the younger wolves – he was sixteen, but only thirteen when he had shifted for the first time.

When the three met, Seth nearly ran into them.

"Oof," he murmured. "Oh, hey!" he chirped happily.

Paul narrowed his eyes, but Sam beat him to the punch. "Seth, what are you doing here?"

"Oh, I was just visiting someone," Seth said. "But now I'm on my way to patrol, you know, 'cause it's my turn."

"Who are you visiting?" Paul demanded, temper rising.

Seth held up his hands in the universal 'calm down' signal. "Just my friend. Harry. He just moved here, and I met him yesterday."

Paul made to grab Seth, but the boy jumped out of the way before he could. Sam tried to intervene, but now both of the others were throwing punches – and Paul wasn't even sure why he was so angry, but he was, and it was just like every other time his temper had got the best of him for no-good-reason-at-all. He began to shake, and Sam was yelling at him and Seth was scowling but he couldn't really tell was was being said, until all of the sudden the door to the house slammed.

"HEY!" shouted a loud, accented voice.

Paul jerked, his body not shaking anymore, and turned toward the sound. A barefooted boy with black hair and green eyes was standing near them now, hands-on-hips and the dirtiest look on his face.

"What gives you the right to fight in my driveway?" he demanded, but nobody answered. "Hey, I'm talking to you three. Seth?" he asked, tapping his foot.

"I-I," Seth babbled. "Sorry, Harry, I didn't mean to – Paul's always losing his temper, he took the first swing and I couldn't just stand there–"

"Seth," Sam warned, having a feeling that the younger boy might just ruin any chances Paul had with this boy – because now that he saw the way Paul had just stopped being angry, he was sure that this Harry was Paul's imprint.

"You," Harry said, scowling at Sam, "Don't get to tell him when to stop talking. Who are you? Actually, I really don't care. Go away. Both of you. Come here, Seth, are you okay?"

Paul watched jealously as Seth obediently followed Harry away from them, reassuring the boy that he'd not gotten hit. And then, in a dark voice, he told Sam,

"I am going to murder that kid when he steps out of that house."

"No, you're not," Sam said, in that alpha voice of his that made it impossible not to go along with anything he said. "You're going to come back with me and run Seth's patrol because you just lost your temper for exactly no reason at all, and frankly I'm getting tired of that, and then when Seth gets back you're going to apologize, and you're not going to touch him, and then you'll go home and we'll try this again tomorrow."

And that's exactly what happened.

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A/N: Review, yes? c: Oh, and I forgot I usually ask questions.

QUESTION: What is your favorite candy?