Unwanted Attention
From the moment Harry set foot in Beacon Hills, he felt it—the weight of eyes watching him, the prickling awareness that someone, or something, was keeping track of his every move.
It wasn't paranoia. Years of war had honed his instincts too sharply for that.
But he ignored it.
Harry rented a small, cozy house on the edge of the woods, a quiet place far from the center of town. He worked odd jobs under the table, mostly fixing up old buildings and repairing cars, things that let him use magic subtly. It wasn't much, but it was peaceful.
Or it should have been.
The problem was that people wouldn't leave him alone.
The cashier at the grocery store, the librarian, the nosy old lady down the street—all of them were inexplicably drawn to him. It was like Hogwarts all over again, but instead of adoring fans, it was well-meaning strangers who just wouldn't take a hint.
And then there was them.
The pack.
They were everywhere.
A tall, brooding man at the gas station. A strawberry-blond girl pretending to browse the bookstore while stealing glances his way. A hyperactive boy who always seemed to be where Harry was.
It was subtle. Too subtle for a normal person to notice.
But Harry wasn't normal.
They weren't following him outright. No, they were smarter than that. They just… happened to be around.
At first, he ignored it.
Then he noticed the way his house was never disturbed, despite the fact that the neighborhood had a recent break-in problem.
The way the woods around his property were unnaturally silent at night, as if something was keeping everything else at bay.
The way strangers who got too close to him would suddenly find themselves face-to-face with an intimidating figure with glowing eyes.
Harry, of course, remained oblivious to the full extent of it.
He just chalked it up to good luck.