Harry's feet slammed onto solid ground and, at last, he felt the grip on his shoulder loosen. Trying not to panic, he wrenched himself away from the vampire and went sprawling on the ground. He knew they hadn't gone far, but Harry's eyes couldn't focus; all he could see was white as his head throbbed and his stomach lurched. He needed to apparate while he wasn't being held and so he raised his wand. As he tried to disapparate, the whole world spun and he was sent heaving the non-existent contents of his stomach.

OK. He wasn't going anywhere.

Lying down and breathing heavily, Harry fought to remain conscious. He was in trouble; he was effectively trapped with a blood-thirsty vampire and no way to run or defend himself. His vision was beginning to clear and the green blurs around him solidified into a canopy of leaves above his head. If he hadn't been in such a dangerous situation, he would have allowed himself time to pause and appreciate just how peaceful it was. As it were, he slowly turned his head until he found his company.

The doctor – 'Vampire,' he corrected himself – was sitting on the ground, cross-legged and a good distance away from Harry. The look on his face was curious; if Harry had not known better, he would have taken it to be a look of concern. Without dropping eye contact, Harry tried to drag himself further backwards but found he couldn't. Now that the adrenaline had mostly worn off, all of his previous aches and pains had returned with a vengeance. Harry let out a soft hiss of pain as his shoulder cramped up, and immediately tensed at the sudden twitch from the vampire. It stayed where it was.

Now in a slightly more comfortable position, Harry continued to watch Doctor Cullenwarily. Harry wanted him to leave and just let him find his own way to safety. He also knew how unlikely that was; if he didn't get food and water soon he would lose consciousness once again, only this time he most likely wouldn't wake up.

The silence between the two was heavy as though neither wanted to be the first to break it. Several times both opened their mouths to speak, but quickly closed them again. Sighing in defeat, Harry was the first to talk.

"What do you want?" The vampire flinched at his harsh tone. Good.

"I just want to help you, Harry." For some reason Harry's skin crawled at the use of his name. There was that look again; the vampire's face furrowed in concern.

"Why?"

"You're still my patient and I want to see you better," the doctor insisted. Harry scoffed.

"And so, what, you're still my doctor, are you?" He let out a strangled laugh. "Wouldn't it be easier for you to just get rid of me? Haven't I caused you enough trouble?" A definite look of hurt flashed across the vampire's face as Harry asked these questions.

"Harry, I understand that I have not yet earnt your trust; however, I have no intention of hurting you. That is not in my nature," the vampire tried to assure him. This time when Harry laughed it was loud and rich.

"You expect me to believe that? That you aren't going to hurt me? To kill me?" A part of Harry wondered if he'd be at peace, then. What did he have left to live for without the Wizarding World? Without his best friends?

"Of course I don't expect you to believe me," the vampire replied. "But that doesn't mean it isn't true." Harry wished he would stop looking at him with that 'caring doctor' look. It was making him uncomfortable.

"I can't trust you. You're a –" The word caught in his throat at the doctor's reaction; Doctor Cullen winced and his body went rigid as though Harry's words were a verbal attack. In a way, Harry supposed, that was the intention. But the reaction he had gotten made him question himself as he felt traces of guilt stir in the pit of his stomach.

Neither of them spoke for a time, the end of Harry's unfinished sentence hanging heavily between them. Why couldn't he say the word? Vampire. He could think it, but his voice wouldn't let him say it out loud, as though once it was said, any illusion of Doctor Cullen being a normal man would disappear. It would make the truth only that much more real. Harry didn't know if he wanted to face that.

Why couldn't he go back to before he found out the doctor's identity? Would things be different that way? The truth was harsh, Harry decided. This vampire didn't want Harry to know what he was. He wanted to remain hidden away among humans, going through life. Isn't that what Harry was supposed to do now? Hide away from his own world and live an ordinary life as a Muggle? What if he didn't want that? What if he couldn't see the point anymore? What then?

"How much do you know?" the soft voice pulled Harry out of his depressing thoughts. He looked over at the vampire who hadn't moved from his spot on the ground.

"That depends," Harry muttered. "How much do you know?"

The beginnings of a smile began to tug at the corners of the vampire's mouth, but he waited a few moments before he spoke.

"I know that you know what I am," he began calmly, as though merely commenting on the weather. "I know that nothing about you makes sense. In the short time that I've known you I've seen you save lives, make objects explode, and disappear into thin air." He spoke with a suitable level of awe in his voice as he listed what Harry had done. Harry hadn't realised the vampire had seen all of that, but then again he hadn't been very careful.

"I admit I have no clue about what you are, so in terms of a name your secret is intact. I have seen enough, however, to know that you are a very special young man," the doctor finished, and looked at Harry with nothing short of admiration.

In that moment, Harry felt a mixture of feelings: mainly he felt awkward that a deadly creature was praising him, slightly guilty that not a moment ago he had spoken with anger and insults, but finally there was a small part of him that needed to hear the doctor's praise, because while he was admiring Harry for what he had done and what he could do, he was also accepting him. And that was all that small part of him wanted.

As quickly as the emotion appeared, it vanished again. In his mind, a switch flicked and something snapped inside of Harry. He looked up at the vampire with burning hatred.

"Don't," he threatened. It came out as a harsh whisper, but the vampire still heard him and stared, wide eyed in confusion.

Harry wasn't stupid. No matter what it said, this creature was still a vampire and therefore should not be trusted. Harry was fully aware of its intentions to get him to open up about what he was. Perhaps it theorised that Harry's abilities may transfer through his blood. Whatever it thought, Harry knew he was going to die. He would die alone and angry, with the vampire trying to make him feel better in his last moments. It was toying with him, pretending to accept Harry and what he was. Only now that was a part of himself that Harry wished he didn't have.

"You do not talk about that," he hissed. He shifted into a more upright position, the jolts of pain in his body fuelling his anger. "You know nothing about me and what I've done. What I've suffered." His voice was trembling now, his fury boiling over. He started to stand, barely noticing the dizziness.

"I'm sorry, Harry, please, just calm d–"

"SHUT UP!" And the vampire did. "You don't GET IT! You can't possibly ever understand! I have nothing, can you not see that!? Nothing to go back to, nothing to call my own! That was all taken from me!

"Do it!" Harry shouted, his voice now strong. "I know you want to! Just end it! END IT!" he pounded his fists against his chest and took stumbling steps towards the vampire who was now standing, walking backwards.

"Harry, what –" the vampire stammered, a look of bewilderment on his flawless features.

"KILL ME!" Now he was sobbing. The tears that he had previously been unable to shed were now streaming down his face. "I DON'T WANT THIS ANYMORE!" His vision blurred and he collapsed on his weak ankle, falling to the ground in a heap. "I don't want it. I don't want it. I don't…" he trailed off into silence, the sobs wracking his exhausted body.

What use was there in living without them? One dead, the other thinking he were a criminal. It tore him apart knowing he could never speak to them again. Never share their laughter. Never have their comfort. He needed them now: Hermione telling him he could get through it, Ron to make fun of him and make them both laugh to feel better. But he would never have that again. How could anyone expect him to carry on without them?

And so he lay there, silently sobbing, until he had no more tears to shed and his eyes stung against the cold evening air. He was alone in the world, banished from his home to save his own skin. He hated it all. He hated the Wizarding World for turning on him. He hated the Ministry for making him the hunted. A part of him hated Kingsley for giving him nothing to go on, nothing to live his life by. Ron and Hermione; he hated them for leaving him. Most of all he hated himself; he was letting the world break him, crush him under pain and suffering. He needed to shut it out. Everything, out of his mind.

And so that's what he did.

Pushing himself upright, Harry removed his glasses and wiped his face on his sleeve. He was all too aware of how pathetic he must seem, crying and snivelling in the dirt, but he didn't care. That was behind him. No more crying. No more snivelling.

Harry turned and glared coldly at the vampire who still had not moved. The pained look on its face had not changed either. That annoyed Harry.

"OK, this is what's going to happen," he announced, his voice steady and strong once more. "You're going to leave me alone. You're going to forget you ever met me, and go back to doing whatever the hell it is you do with your existence." If the vampire wanted to fool itself by helping humans, that was its problem, not Harry's.

The vampire looked at Harry and shook his head.

"I won't do that, Harry," he said apologetically. "You need my help and I want to give it to you."

"No," Harry interrupted, "I don't. I don't need you, or anyone, to help me. I'm better on my own."

"For God's sake, Harry, you aren't well!" the vampire cried. "You haven't eaten in days! If you don't get the proper nourishment soon your body will start to shut down!"

"I'm fine," he lied. "I can find stuff for myself. Don't!" Harry shouted, shutting down the vampire's next interjection. "I don't need people to fight my battles for me. That's not in my nature," he mimicked the vampire's words from earlier. "You will leave me and you will forget about me."

For a long time neither of them spoke, both simply staring, waiting for the other to give in. Harry wasn't going to budge; he was resolute in his desire to be left alone to fend for himself. Gone were the days when he would rely on others to get him through. He was alone, and that's how it was going to be from now on. Don't make allies you'll only end up losing.

The vampire doctor's phone began to ring, but he made no move to answer it. The loud ringing reverberated around the trees, disrupting the silence that had built. The hospital, Harry supposed, must be contacting him. Just as he was starting to get a headache from the noise, it stopped.

Obviously seeing the determination in Harry, the vampire was the first to surrender.

"OK," he conceded. "I will leave you. Just remember, Harry, if you ever need someone –"

"I won't."

"– I will always be happy to listen. Take care." With that, the vampire turned around and began to walk away.

"Don't try to find me." Harry insisted to the vampire's retreating form.

"As you wish," he heard him murmur. Soon enough, Harry was alone, with nothing but the sounds of the forest for company.


"You moron! Look what you've done!"

Edward sighed. Emmett and Jasper had been playing the same mind-numbing video game for five hours now. This was just one of many similar outbursts that afternoon. Edward had initially been sitting on the couch watching them blow each other up and had tried to get into it himself as a distraction, but that hadn't worked. He had been all together hopeless at the game and was thrown off as quickly as he had been offered the controller, so he decided to go and find something else to distract him.

Edward's mind had been turning ever since he finished his hunt earlier that morning. After his conversation with Carlisle he had felt hopeful that things were working out, but as the day had worn on his doubts had returned. He felt ashamed of himself that he hadn't been able to keep his uncertainties at bay for even twenty-four hours. He had promised himself and Carlisle that he would try, but perhaps he had underestimated how difficult it would be.

The thing that was particularly playing on Edward's mind was that Carlisle was yet to return home despite finishing at the hospital almost an hour ago. He had phoned Esme to let her know he was being told to go home early, and yet he was nowhere to be seen and they hadn't heard from him since. It was quite likely that he had been caught up with an emergency or speaking to a colleague just as he was leaving, but Edward wasn't so sure. He wasn't entirely convinced it didn't have anything to do with Harry.

He found his sisters out in the garage, talking animatedly while Rosalie tinkered with her BMW.

"Hey, Alice, have you –"

"No, Edward," she interrupted agitatedly, "I still haven't seen anything. Don't you think I would have told you if I had?" Edward had been asking Alice every five minutes for the past half an hour about any sign of Carlisle, but her visions were still showing her nothing.

"Yeah, I guess. Sorry, again." His sisters returned to their conversation, and he went to go find Esme. Maybe she would be more interested in his worries.

He found his mother in Carlisle's study, architecture plans spread out over his desk. As Edward watched her she appeared calm, but he noticed the small frown line between her brows that only appeared when she was worried. She had taken the news of Harry's vanishing act the worst despite Carlisle's best efforts to leave out the details of the blood.

"He'll be home soon, Edward," she assured him without looking up from her work.

"But Esme, he should have been home ages ago," he whined, all too aware of how childish he sounded. Esme looked up at his tone.

"He's been held back hundreds of times after thinking he was able to leave, Edward. This will just be another emergency he has to deal with, I'm sure of it." The words she spoke were comforting, but Edward could tell that she did not quite believe them.

"Have you tried phoning him?" He asked. Esme sighed.

"Edward, if you want to try, go ahead and call him." Edward could tell he had overstepped an invisible boundary. She was determined not to worry and Edward wasn't helping. So he left.

Walking down the hall to his own bedroom, he closed the door and pulled out his phone to dial Carlisle.

It was ringing.

"You have reached the voicemail of –" He hung up without letting it finish. No answer.

Carlisle always turned his phone off when going into surgery, and Edward could only think of a handful of times where Carlisle had not been there to answer his ringing phone, the most recent being yesterday morning. He was almost convinced that this had something to do with Harry, whether Carlisle was talking to the police again or something else had happened.

Edward lay back on his bed in frustration. He couldn't let himself think such things; it was possible that Carlisle had been rushed into surgery so suddenly he hadn't gotten a chance to switch off his mobile. The excuse sounded flimsy in Edward's head but he clung to it, not wanting to come up with any reasons that involved Harry.

After a few minutes, Edward sat up quickly. Had he imagined it? Or was that really Carlisle's Mercedes turning off the highway? A couple more seconds of listening confirmed that he wasn't imagining it: Carlisle was back.

Racing out of his room and down the stairs, Edward almost crashed into his father as he was running up the stairs.

"Carlisle, wha–"

"Not now, Edward!" Came his father's harried reply. He heard Carlisle curse in frustration. "Where are the tents?! Never mind!" He raced back down the stairs.

Tents?

The rest of the family had now congregated into the kitchen where Carlisle was scrabbling around in the cupboards, tent and sleeping-bag slung over his shoulder.

"Bread. Esme, do we have bread?"

"I– I bought some today," she answered him quickly. What was he doing?

"Perfect!" Carlisle cried, grabbing the bread and kissing his wife quickly. Grabbing a thermos from under the sink, he then proceeded to fill in with water and seal it tight. "I'll be back soon!" And with that he bolted out of the house.

"He's finally lost it," whispered Emmett. The six of them stood there staring at the still open front door. Wherever he was going, Carlisle hadn't bothered to drive, he just ran. Moving as one, the others turned to look at Edward, but he hadn't a clue either. He just shook his head. Without saying a word, they filed in to the living room.

They only had to wait fifteen minutes for Carlisle to return, clothes rumpled and looking incredibly proud of himself. He opened his mouth to speak but then seemed to notice his dishevelled state and ran upstairs. In thirty seconds he was seated in the living room in a fresh change of clothes, ready to talk.

"Harry came back," he said simply.

'Oh, good. More drama,' Rosalie sneered internally.

"Is he alright, Carlisle?" Esme really had been worried about him.

Edward watched as Carlisle hesitated, debating with himself what to say. Eventually he decided on the truth.

"No," he said sadly, "he really isn't. He hasn't eaten or drunk for days, he's severely malnourished. But he doesn't want any help. He doesn't trust me. He's insisted that I leave him alone to fend for himself. That I forget about him." The frustration was evident in Carlisle's voice; it had torn him apart to abandon Harry.

"So you gave him bread and water," Emmett said, sounding like it all made sense. Edward wasn't convinced though. What about –

"What about the tent, though?" Jasper countered.

"Well, duh, he gave that to Harry to sleep in, right Carlisle?" Alice asked.

"Well," Carlisle began, "not exactly…"


Alone was rubbish, Harry quickly decided, especially when fighting just to stay awake and up on two feet. After Doctor Cullen had left, Harry had stayed for a while in the same spot until he felt he could walk for a while. He had to find water, at least. There had to be a stream nearby.

The main problem with being alone, he felt, was having nothing to distract him from his thoughts. The pain in his heart had been altered into a numb emptiness, a sensation that he clung on to. He could cope with numb; anything that wasn't the pain. He focused on spreading the numbness to his mind. He wanted to forget.

After he had been slowly trudging through the trees for about fifteen minutes, Harry came across what appeared to be an abandoned campsite. A two-man tent stood in the clearing, flap wide open and waving in the breeze as though beckoning him over. Strangely there was no one in sight. Cautiously, Harry began to approach the tent, but when no one jumped out at him, he relaxed and peered inside.

A single sleeping bag lay on the floor of the tent, but there were no other possessions at all. Getting down carefully to his knees, mind spinning at the slight change in altitude, Harry crawled inside for a better look and his jaw dropped at what he found. Sitting at the back of the tent, still in its plastic bag, was a whole loaf of bread. It hadn't been touched; not even one slice was missing. Next to it sat a thermos, which Harry felt was full of something when he picked it up. He was so hungry, but he couldn't take someone else's food. Could he?

Poking his head outside, he had another look around. There was no sign of anyone being nearby. There were no bags with clothes or other camping equipment in the tent. It truly did look abandoned. Pulling his head back inside, he looked longingly at the bread and thermos. Maybe just one slice…

Before long, Harry had eaten all but three slices and drunk half of the water in the thermos. All too used to eating whatever he could get at the Dursleys', he did not care that he was eating plain bread. As far as he was concerned, it was the best meal he had ever had. Now fed and watered, Harry felt a lot better. No one had come to the tent despite it now being dark outside, and so Harry assumed that his initial impression that it was abandoned was correct. He could almost feel his blood sugar rising, and with it, his tiredness. Letting out a huge yawn, Harry had just about set himself down in the sleeping bag when there was a scratching at the tent flap.

Suddenly feeling much more awake, Harry held his wand aloft as he slowly unzipped the tent. As soon as it was open, something large and soft pushed its way inside.

"ARGH!" Harry yelled, unable to see anything in the dark. "Lumos!" The inside of the tent suddenly filled with light and Harry almost screamed again as two bright eyes lit up in front of him. Perched on top of a large parcel, was a tall, brown barn owl. Harry waited until his heart stopped racing before voicing the obvious question.

"Who would be sending me mail?"

Reaching forward, Harry untied the parcel from the owl's leg. Free of its load, the bird hopped over to the remaining pieces of bread and began to peck at them. Turning over the thick envelope, Harry saw the seal of the Ministry. This parcel was from Kingsley.

Quickly breaking the seal, Harry opened the top and poured out its contents. Out fell dozens of files and cards, all of them with his full name on them.

'What on earth?'

Picking up the top page, Harry saw it was a letter, and so he read.

Dear Harry,

I hope that this letter finds you well and safely back in America. I apologise for not entrusting you with these items when we last spoke, however I felt that it would be best to wait until you returned to the States.

If you have looked through some of these files already, you will have noticed that they are all identification documents. As of today, you are an official American citizen. Inside you will find all the necessary documentation to prove as such, as well as birth certificate, full history of Muggle schooling, driver's licence and passport. All of your money from Gringott's has been placed into a bank account, details of which are enclosed also.

The other main inclusion in this letter (and I hope you will accept it) is the deeds to a house that has been purchased in your name. It is nothing very large, I assure you, and was all paid for out of your own money (as I know how much you dislike charity). You mentioned that Forks was the name of the town you visited, and so it is situated just on the edge of the same town. Of course I do not know if you intended to stay there, or to find somewhere else to live. If you would prefer to find other arrangements, the house can be sold without a problem.

While I am sure you are not thrilled about it, I believe it would be best for you to enrol in the local high school, my recommendation would be as a Junior (I believe that is what it is called). You should have just under two years until you graduate.

With the exception of the house deeds, all of these documents are of course fake. I can give you my complete confidence and assurance, however, that they will fool any Muggle who reads them. This is my way of giving you the easiest start possible in America.

The rest is up to you, Harry. Thank-you once more for all that you have done for us, and I wish you the best in the remainder of your life.

Yours most sincerely,

Kingsley Shacklebolt

Minister for Magic.

P.S. The owl, should you like to keep her, is yours. She has no name, as the Ministry does not bother with naming their owls. I'm sure she would provide you with some company.

Harry couldn't believe it, but as he looked through the pages he knew it was true: British and American passports, birth certificate, census details. It was all there. There was even a wad of American notes to get him started. How could he have been angry at Kingsley earlier?

The house was the only thing that bothered him. Did he really want to live here in Forks where the vampire could find him? Had he not a couple of hours ago, given a great speech on wanting to be left alone? And as for enrolling in high school…

Harry sighed. He was too exhausted to think about this but he needed to make a decision or else he would be thinking about it all night. The best sounding plan was to move; sell the house and get as far away from Doctor Cullen as possible. Though with that came complications; where would he move to? Harry knew nothing about America, he still didn't even know what side of the country he was on, so how could he find somewhere new to live?

Kingsley had said the house was on the edge of Forks. That could be alright, couldn't it? Away from most of the public, he could hide away without getting noticed. Except Kingsley wanted him to go to school, something that would definitely draw attention to him. Just under two years, he had suggested. What if he just stayed for half a year until he knew more about where he was? Then he could look for a new house somewhere else. Harry smiled at his plan. It certainly wasn't concrete at the moment, but he could sort out the rest in the morning.

A loud hoot from beside him reminded him of the presence of the owl. It was very tall and handsome for an owl. The eyes that had originally scared Harry half to death were now friendly. He reached out to stroke the bird's face and was pleased when it let him. Perhaps it would be nice to keep her.

"Do you want to stay with me?" He asked the owl. Getting a soft hoot in reply, Harry took that to be a yes and smiled. Perhaps this wouldn't be so bad after all.

He leaned over and opened the flap again to let out his new friend.

"I'll still be here in the morning, alright? Go and hunt," he told her, and she flew off into the night.

His exhaustion now returning quickly after the excitement of the letter, Harry lay back down in the sleeping bag. He realised moving to Forks could be the stupidest thing he's ever done, but how likely was it that he would come across more vampires than the doctor, especially at a high school? Smiling at the absurdity, Harry turned over and allowed himself to fall asleep.

–––––––––––– END PART ONE ––––––––––––