To say Harry was alarmed when he awoke to find himself inside of a tent would be an understatement. It took him several seconds to realise where he was and why he had just spent the night camping. Sitting himself upright, Harry began to pick at the left over bread as he mulled over all that had happened the previous day. He seemed to have been on an emotional roller coaster ever since arriving in Forks, and could scarcely believe how much his life had changed in the space of a few days.
Looking around the tent he only found more evidence to support what had happened. Documents and files were strewn all over the floor, his own face staring up at him from several of them. These were the forged documents that would allow him to live in the Muggle world without suspicion. Before he had received the parcel from Kingsley, Harry hadn't even thought about all the documentation he would need. Thank heavens for Kingsley.
Finishing off the bread and the last dregs of water, Harry shuffled to the doorway of the tent and unzipped it to go outside. He stood upright and stretched out his sore body, pleased that his head and stomach were back to normal. He couldn't be sure what time of day it was; there was a thick cloud layer in the sky, making it impossible to see the sun. Harry could only guess that it was sometime in the morning, and made a mental note to buy himself a watch at the earliest opportunity. Perched in a tree nearby, Harry could just make out the sleeping form of his new friend.
Today, Harry decided, he would get himself settled in Forks. He needed to find the house that Kingsley had bought on his behalf, and then he would have to make sure he had everything he needed like food and clothes. Happy with his plan, he crawled back inside the tent and began to pick up all the documents and bundle them together. When he found himself packing away the sleeping bag as well, he stopped.
'Can I really take this with me? It isn't mine, after all,' he pondered. Whoever it used to belong to had not shown up to reclaim it, which was strange. Despite never having gone camping properly, Harry could tell that this was not a cheap sleeping bag, and nor was the tent. Could he really take them with him when they were worth so much?
'Don't forget: someone left them behind. They obviously didn't need them.' Or what if something had happened to them out in the forest? Perhaps they had been attacked by an animal or a…
'Well, they won't be needing it anymore if that's the case, either.' Slightly disturbed with his thinking, Harry decided to pack the sleeping bag and tent to take with him. Remembering the beaded bag Kingsley had given him, Harry pulled it out of his pocket and shoved his things inside of it, not wasting time dwelling on the significance of the bag.
Soon enough he had everything packed, leaving no sign that anybody had been there. He still felt bad for taking the camping equipment, but it could come in handy someday. He walked over to the tree where his new owl was now wide awake and watching him reproachfully.
"Hey –," he would have to find a name for the owl soon. "I'm going to find this house that Kingsley got. Want to come with me, or will you find me later?"
The owl gave a short hoot in reply and settled itself back down on the branch. Harry took that to mean that he would be facing this challenge alone. Turning on the spot, he disapparated.
Seeing as Harry had no idea about the layout of Forks and where his house could possibly be, he decided that the best course of action would be to return to the highway and work his way slowly into town. As he stared at the long stretch of road in front of him, a new question formed in his head.
Left or right?
One way would lead him into town. The other, who knows where. Standing in the exact spot the portkey had delivered him, he tried to picture the scene.
He had fallen to the ground as he landed, his head close to the road. A car had been coming. Had that been the vampire? Or had he shown up later? Harry liked to think that a stranger wouldn't drive on past a person visibly injured by the side of the road, so it must have been Cullen. Which way had he come from? Harry tried to remember how he had landed. Was he facing right? No, wait. The car was on the same side of the road as him, he remembered that now. So that means he must have been facing left. OK, so if the car had come from that way, then what did that mean? It had been afternoon, so surely the vampire would have been leaving the hospital and heading home, meaning that he was coming away from the town.
Harry blinked. He hoped he was right. Turning to the left, he began to walk.
'This is idiotic,' Harry scolded himself. He had been walking for what felt like twenty minutes before he remembered that he didn't have to do this the slow way. So, he disapparated, appearing a few hundred feet further along the highway. Smiling to himself, Harry continued this until buildings started to appear.
The house's address Harry had read on his documentation meant nothing to him. While Kingsley had said the house was on the edge of town, Harry couldn't know for certain which edge of the town it was on. Appearing as close as he dared to the first streets off the highway, Harry couldn't even notice any street signs. He needed a map, or else he could be apparating around Forks for days, and the best place to find a map was in the centre of town.
Taking a deep breath and crouching down, Harry disapparated, appearing behind the hospital. He felt his heart rate quicken at being back to where the vampire worked. He hoped its sense of smell wasn't good enough to find him out here.
Moving through the town was going to be almost impossible without his invisibility cloak, and the closer he was to the hospital the more likely it was that someone would recognise him. Peering around the corner, he noticed the carpark full to the brim with cars. They would act as good shelter, so he disappeared.
Now hidden between two large vehicles, Harry chanced a look at the hospital entrance and felt his heart skip a beat. Out the front of the hospital, two police cars were parked. Knowing that they were there because of him, Harry started to scout the area for the next sheltered area to apparate into.
"Hey! Who's there?!" A voice shouted out from somewhere behind him. Panicked, Harry rolled under the nearest car and didn't move. He could hear someone approaching, and suddenly there were two feet right where he had just been standing. He could have reached out and grabbed them he was so close.
"Where'd he go?" Harry watched the feet spin around as he didn't dare to even breathe. His heart was racing; if they found him…
All of a sudden, a knee appeared on the ground, and then another. He was going to look under the cars! There was nothing Harry could do now except wait to be found and hauled into a police car to be taken away for questioning.
"Doctor Morrison?" A new voice called out. The man beside the car paused. Two new feet approached the car, these belonging to a woman. "Simon, you're required in theatre. Doctor Cullen is waiting for you."
"Of course, Suzanne, I'll be there immediately." The knees straightened back up off the ground, and both sets of feet headed back to the main building.
Harry let out the breath he had been holding, sending up a large cloud of dust. Coughing, Harry extricated himself from beneath the car and waited until he could breathe properly again. That had been far too close. He needed to be more careful moving around in broad daylight.
Once he was settled again, Harry spotted a small group of trees on the other side of the road, and in a split second he was hidden in their shadows. This close call made Harry reconsider his strategy. He needed directions. The longer he stayed out in the open like this, the more likely someone would recognise him. True, only a handful of doctors and nurses had actually seen Harry, however, he didn't want to find out how good a description they had supplied. At least one of the doctors would have been able to give a highly detailed report. Harry wondered how much the vampire had told the police.
It was quite likely that the further from the hospital he was, the less likely anyone would recognise him. Perhaps that way he could ask someone where he had to go. Deciding this was his best way forward, Harry kept to the shadows and set off.
3 hours later
This was it. His new house. And it was enormous.
It had taken Harry about an hour to make it far enough out of the town's centre for him to be comfortable no one would recognise him. Walking down the quiet street, he came across a woman tending to her front garden. He was reminded uncomfortably of his Aunt Petunia, constantly pruning the plants to make it as impressive as possible for the neighbours. Pushing his discomfort aside, he asked the lady for directions.
"Excuse me, ma'am," he had said, in a very poor American accent he copied from a television programme his Aunt and Uncle had once watched. "I was wondering if you could give me directions."
"Of course, hun," the woman replied cheerfully. "Where're you headed?" He told her the address.
"That's right on the west of town. Do you know the hospital?" Harry nodded. "Just head west from there along the main road and you'll get there soon enough on your right." Thanking the woman, Harry had continued his stealthy form of travel until he came at last to his new house.
When Kingsley had assured Harry in his letter that the house was nothing special, Harry had believed him. He had not expected the large white mansion that sat before him. A small set of steps lead up to a deck that appeared to stretch around the side of the house. An identical veranda wrapped around the upstairs level above it. Walking around the side, Harry noticed a number of large windows to let in the limited amount of sunlight the town seemed to offer. A gate closed off the backyard from the front, but Harry could see the large open area that lead off into the dense forest. Despite severely misjudging the size, Kingsley had been right about one thing: it was very secluded.
Walking back around to the front, Harry heard a loud hoot as a brown blur swept past the veranda; obviously his new owl had found their new home. He walked up the steps to the front door, which was large and oak. Unsure of what to do, Harry tried the handle but found it locked, and so began looking around for a key. After five minutes of searching and still finding no key, Harry was annoyed. Why could Kingsley not have given him the key, or at least left it somewhere for him to find? How did he expect him to –
Harry closed his eyes and sighed deeply. Pointing his wand at the door, he muttered "Alohomora" and walked inside. The door opened into a small front room that was fairly plain. Going through a doorway to his right, Harry walked into the main living area. He was ecstatic to find it fully furnished; two large leather couches sat watch over the biggest television Harry had ever seen. Artwork decorated the wall, some of which Harry liked and others he didn't. If he decided to stay here longer he could easily change that.
A staircase took up the far wall, leading up to a wide landing. Still on the ground floor, Harry found the dining room and kitchen leading off from the living room. Stomach grumbling, Harry opened the fridge but was disappointed yet not surprised to find it empty of food. Just as he was closing the door, he noticed a bottle containing a vibrant green liquid, and attached to it was a note. He read:
Harry,
Considering the state you were in when you visited my office, I thought it necessary to give you this. It is a concoction of potions specifically used at St Mungo's for patients who have been severely weakened. Take it before bed and it will restore your energy and help some of your more serious injuries.
Kingsley.
Smiling, Harry placed the potion back in the fridge and continued on with his exploring.
Strolling back to the living room, Harry walked up the stairs to the next floor. This was clearly where most of the bedrooms were; Harry found a further three, two with their own ensuite. A library, big enough to get lost in, and a study were the other rooms on this floor. Harry couldn't believe how big this place was for just himself. Compared to anywhere he had lived previously, this was a mansion.
As he walked out of the study, Harry's stomach gave out a loud rumble. He would need to go grocery shopping and stock up on things to eat. It was only just gone three o'clock. Heading back down the stairs to the front door, Harry walked past a mirror and saw his reflection for the first time in several days.
He was filthy. His hair was long, matted with dirt and blood and he was in desperate need of a shave. His clothes were disgusting after having been worn for four days straight, and his skin was caked in blood. Blue and yellow bruises still mottled his skin among the numerous cuts and gashes on his face and arms. Was this how he had looked when asking that woman for directions?
First things first, he needed a shower. No way could he go out looking like this again. After that he could go and get as much food as he could carry.
Stumbling into one of the upstairs bathrooms, Harry almost sobbed at the sight of freshly laundered towels and the biggest shower he had ever seen. On the shelf in the shower wall, sat another peculiar shaped bottle with yet another note attached.
Harry,
This is a scrub used by Healers on surface wounds and injuries. Don't worry, it isn't painful, but it should clean and close off all those cuts, as well as get rid of those bruises.
Kingsley.
Discarding his filthy clothes, Harry jumped under the spray and wanted to cry again. He vowed from then that he would never take indoor plumbing for granted ever again. Kingsley's special soap worked exactly as he had described – Harry skin hadn't been this clear of injury in a very long time.
Feeling better than he had in months, Harry wrapped himself in a towel and considered his next problem. What could he wear? Venturing back into the bedroom, he tried his luck at one of the drawers, and was disappointed, yet again not surprised, to find it empty.
'I guess Kingsley can't do everything.'
Back in the bathroom, Harry reasoned his only solution was to Scourgify and Tergeo the living daylights out of the clothes he had been wearing. Clothes were another thing to add to the list of necessities.
Looking at his handiwork, it wasn't perfect; his jumper hadn't quite returned to its original colour, but it was at least clean. Proud of himself, he grabbed some of the money left by Kingsley, and went to begin the next challenge of locating the supermarket.
