'Damnit kid. You weren't supposed to run away again.'

They had all thought things were improving for Harry. Charlie certainly had. That's why he had allowed Harry and Bella to move their tutoring sessions to the boy's house. Carlisle had mentioned that while he was still concerned about the kid, he was definitely opening up more, and the doctor thought it was only a matter of time before Harry would trust him properly. Had it been wishful thinking?

Charlie had been pleased with how well Harry had been doing with Bella. He still hadn't exactly been chatty with Charlie, but it was obvious that he'd warmed up to Bella and considered her a friend. No matter what the boy had believed, Charlie had only ever wanted Harry to find his place in Forks and have a normal life; there had obviously been a lot of negativity in his past and it was important for him to move forward as best he could. Now, despite Harry having been in Forks for a few months, Charlie didn't know if they'd moved things too quickly.

Had it been a mistake to give Harry more independence? This had been the first time Charlie had not insisted on the boy's presence at their house for his sessions with Bella. And now he was gone. Again.

Three days had passed since Harry's disappearance. History repeating, Charlie had found no sign of the boy. They hadn't even been able to get into his house. Whenever they had tried to get near the building, he and his fellow officers had turned around again with the sudden thought that they were forgetting something important. It did not matter how or when they approached it, even thinking forcibly that they had nothing to race off to do, every time they were effectively turned away, as though the house was fighting back.

No one had ever seen anything like it. He had called Carlisle to see if he had been to Harry's house since the boy vanished, but Charlie had not even been able to speak to the man. His son, Edward, had answered the man's phone on his behalf, claiming his father was 'under the weather at present and taking time off work'. Edward had volunteered to come have a look at the house, and while he had more success in that he didn't suddenly remember a non-existent doctor's appointment, he could only get halfway down the driveway before a sudden and severe pain would shoot through his body. Charlie had watched the boy collapse to the ground in agony, having to pull him away himself so the boy could stand. They had looked at each other in worry and confusion. What had Harry done?

Hating to admit it, Charlie knew he was way out of his depth.


Bella sat at the cafeteria table, eating her lunch without tasting it. She was surrounded by noise, but even the endless chatter of Jessica could not pierce her thoughts. She knew what the noise was about; the school had only spoken of one thing since Monday.

Harry Potter was missing.

Somehow this event had sparked the realisation that Harry had been the patient who escaped from the hospital earlier in the year, and Forks being the small high school that it is, every student knew this by the end of the day. Bella didn't know who had worked it out; she knew she and the Cullens had said nothing. Bella had not said much at all since Harry had left.

She was angry. And she was confused. But most of all she was worried. Where had Harry gone? Was he safe? Were there people like him who were after him? People like the Cullens?

After Harry had disappeared right in front of her eyes that day, Bella had left very quickly after. Edward had stressed upon her the importance of keeping their secret as well as Harry's. She wasn't stupid. Who would believe her anyway? Carlisle had then asked her to not go after Harry. Had he known, then, that Harry was going to run away? If he did, why hadn't he stopped him?

Instead she had gone by Harry's house the next day, to find the place deserted. No one answered her knocking, and Bella had suspected he was just hiding from her. It wasn't until he hadn't turned up to school the next day that the police became involved. When Charlie had told her how no one could get close to Harry's house, she felt uncomfortable. Was this something Harry had done to keep people away? And if so, why had she been allowed to get close?

"Did you know from the start? Bella?" The sound of her name brought her out of her stupor. Angela was speaking, and all of the others were watching her closely.

"Sorry?" Bella asked.

"Did you know that Harry was the guy who escaped the hospital?" Jessica butted in.

"Oh, um," she stammered. What was the point in lying? "Yeah, I did actually. He didn't like talking about it," she added, pre-empting their next question.

"How come you don't talk to Cullen anymore?" That was Mike. So they had noticed.

Bella hadn't sat with Edward at lunch since Harry disappeared a few days ago. She had barely spoken to him in Biology or the hallways either, preferring to think about what had transpired over the weekend on her own.

Truth be told, she didn't know what to think. She knew the story now about why Harry didn't trust the Cullens and frankly, Bella couldn't blame him. Weren't vampires always depicted as forms of evil in fiction? But this wasn't fiction, she had to remind herself. This was real and there actually were vampires in her town, at least one of whom had actually been kind to her. In fact, he had saved her life.

Was it that easy then? To ignore what her instincts were telling her of their danger, and instead to trust them? Her head swam trying to make sense of it all. She wished Harry were here.

Though what she had learned of Harry was equally terrifying.

A wizard. An actual, real wizard, with a magic wand and everything. She had thought the whole thing was a joke until she saw that woman wave her magic wand causing Harry's to fly out of his hand. Then she had disappeared in a flash of blue light. Then Harry had disappeared with a sound like a gunshot.

Now wizards were depicted differently in fiction. Was Harry the Gandalf, or the Saruman? Her instincts again told her that he was the Good wizard. But she had heard the words Harry had spoken to that woman before he ran away. Did he really wish for the deaths of all those people?

Bella couldn't believe it, but either way she still worried for Harry, and wished he would return.


The days that had passed since Harry's disappearance had taken their toll on the Cullen family. As Edward ran through the trees, no real destination in mind, he thought about the boy who had changed their lives more than anyone had anticipated.

Harry was magical, both figuratively and literally. It had been an eye-opening experience hearing the conversation between Harry and the woman. That had been the most anyone had ever heard Harry say about himself, and it had rendered them all speechless. Everything that Harry had said or done, and everything Edward had seen, suddenly made sense – Harry was a wizard.

Edward felt he had taken the news rather well. The initial shock had worn off and been replaced with intense curiosity and worry about Harry. Nobody knew where he had gone and none of them had found any trace of him surrounding Forks. He had covered his tracks well. It was also concerning that Harry had managed to keep anybody from approaching his house. Obviously he had anticipated people searching the house, and suspected the Cullens would use what they could to try to find him. But he had been one step ahead of them. They had lost him.

The rest of his family had taken the news in different ways. His siblings also were concerned about where Harry could have gone, in Rosalie's case more worried again that he would tell others of their secret. Esme was fitful with worry, not just for Harry but also for Carlisle who had not been the same since Harry's departure.

Carlisle had not left his office once since Saturday afternoon when his honorary fourth son had vanished. It was now Wednesday and still he had not surfaced, not even to hunt. The man was in a state of shock. Not even Edward was entirely sure what was going on in Carlisle's mind. He could not distinguish the individual thoughts racing around in his father's head. The glimpses he caught were of the faded memories of Carlisle's childhood and his own father. The same father who had hunted witches.

Edward stopped running and took in the sounds around him. The forest was alive and he could hear it all. Every animal – their footfalls, their breathing. The groan of every tree branch. The rustle of every leaf. He took in a long, slow breath, though his lungs needed none of the air he drew in. Despite the noise of the forest, his mind was quiet, something it had not been in many days. He basked in the peace.

The house had become tense. Jasper had been struggling with the emotions of everybody – Carlisle especially – and had been unable to prevent the amplification of worry seeping through every room. Alice's visions were fluctuating, sometimes there and sometimes not, but never seeing Harry. Whatever was happening to the boy they had no way of knowing, and it was slowly tearing them all apart.

Bella had also become closed off, though not to the extent of Carlisle. At least Bella still came to school – spoke to people when spoken to. She had not spoken to Edward of her own volition, something which hurt him more than he cared to admit to anybody. He understood she was worried about Harry, and likely was confused about Edward's own family and their secret. He was not disappointed that she had found out, but it hurt that she hadn't spoken to him since.

Edward's phone buzzed in his pocket. It was Alice.

Feel free to stay there a while. I'll let you know if we need you.

He smiled. Jumping into a tree, he made himself comfortable and let his mind wander. It came to rest on his father and Harry, taking away some of the peace that had settled upon him. He wished, for everyone's sake, that Harry would return soon. There were many stones left unturned, and without resolution, the Cullens would likely not be the same again.


Was there an emotion that described the feeling of 360 years of belief crashing around you? Did such a word exist whose definition labelled the foundation of your upbringing and very existence a lie? Carlisle did not know if any word or emotion existed, but these were his feelings. And he was drowning.

How had he not seen it? Was three centuries what it took to blind someone from the teachings of their childhood? Harry Potter was a wizard. He had magical powers. He used a wand. The woman who had confronted him had been like him too. A witch.

Carlisle's mind whirled back to the raids that his father had lead in the dark streets of London – the raids he had lead when his father became too ill to continue.

"It is time for you to take your place, son," his father had said. "Time for you to perform your duty as the pastor's boy."

"I cannot, father," Carlisle implored. "It is not right, killing innocent people for these sick games of yours."

"Impertinence! My duty has been to rid the world of demons and sin, a job that befalls onto you."

"I will not –"

His father had struck him then, hard, across the face.

"You do not disobey, boy," his father growled. "Let you remember what happens to sinners in the Father's eye."

Carlisle had very few memories left of his human life. Some, such as this night, had stuck with him. He thought it had not been the first time, nor was it the last time a hand had been raised to him. He had crumpled at his father's wishes. From that night on, he had led the raids. Still, Carlisle had rejected his father's beliefs for many years, only leading the raids out of duty. He had still not believed in the dark and vile creatures they had searched for, not until the night he was bitten. Even then his mind only opened to the existence of vampires. Never in his dreams had he believed in witches.

Had his father been right, then? Had witches roamed their streets spreading mayhem and mischief? Evil and sin was what his father had sworn they were ridding the world of. The raids had brought deaths. Had they been witches? Or had they been ordinary people? Wasn't it equally repulsive either way?

Carlisle and his father had lived in London. Carlisle knew about many other famous witch trials around the world, Salem perhaps the most famous. What about those people? Had anyone executed actually committed any crimes, witch or not?

If he had not known it impossible for vampires to be ill, Carlisle would have sworn he was nauseous with guilt. He had been the leader of raids that had led to people's deaths, as had his father, a concept that Carlisle had just about come to terms with over the past three centuries. While he could never truly be forgiven for what he had done and the remorse he felt would never leave him, Carlisle had learned how to live. But now every ounce of guilt had resurfaced as he had learned of this reality.

Witches and Wizards were real – people like Harry – and he had hunted and killed them.

People like Harry.

There was surely nothing now that could save him from damnation. Harry had reopened his eyes to the mistakes of his human life and the misbeliefs of his vampiric existence. He knew what his father would say; that they had done the right thing, purging the world of these demons. Being what he was and having met Harry, knowing and understanding the good that could exist in such people, he truly did know now that his father had been wrong. But had Carlisle known, then, of the existence of these people, he likely would have agreed with his father.

How could Carlisle ever forgive himself for sending those people to their deaths? How could he ever look Harry in the eye again, knowing he had hunted people like him, purely because they were different? Whether they had been real witches or not did not matter. The intent had been there and the executions had been performed.

Swirling in memories, Carlisle didn't know whether he could face Harry returning.


He was alone. Alone was good. Wasn't it? Alone was safe. No one could find him and no one could get hurt by being with him. Alone was how it had to be.

Why did it hurt so much?

There was nothing left for him to do. He had run away, the coward he was, and now he had to face the consequences. It didn't make it any easier, but it reminded him he had no choice.

The misery that had been sitting inside him the past five days had not changed. It had seeped from the cold air into his pores, chilling his insides. His mind was frosted. His heart icy. His breathing slowed to an imperceptible rate, misting around him. The crackling of the warm fire beside him had no effect on his soul.

He knew he couldn't hold on to his sanity for much longer. The wall he had built up around his emotions and his past was weakening. It was only a matter of time before the dam broke.

In the months since that day, he had not mourned. He had run out of fear and shame, never looking back because he dare not see what he had created. The despair and misery that he had caused so many people was finally piling up on him. His weary bones would not take it for very much longer. The cold and the loneliness would win in the end, just like they always did.

God he was lonely.

Had he already forgotten what it meant to be surrounded by friends? The roaring fire beside him could never fill in that hole. Had it really been only a few months since he had sat by similar fires whilst hunting for Horcruxes with –

A sharp intake of breath.

One choked sob.

There was nothing he could do to stop the two bright smiling faces from flashing in his mind as the walls he built finally gave their last.

Spiralling downwards, dry sobs wracked his body.

He cried for the friends he had lost and the memories that would never be made. He wept for those who had become his family and loved him as he had never remembered being loved before. He sobbed for the past he would never forget and the future he could never create.

More than anything, his cries were for the infant who had lost everything before he had even known he had it. The child who would grow up without being loved – who would discover the most wonderful family and create the most loyal of friends only to have it taken from him. The man with the cursed life.

And Harry Potter wept for himself.