Boiled Eggs
On Friday, Harry realises what a halfwit he’s been. Honestly, Ron would have Harry’s hide if he were here. Hermione too. Harry’s been at this school for a whole bloody week and only just realised there are vampires here. Now that he sees the vampires, huddled together around a table in the corner, pretending to consume the odd choices of food in front of them—one of them has a bag of boiled eggs, for goodness sake—its almost impossible to miss their vampirism.
Of course, he can’t be completely to blame for not realising earlier, since Griphook had assured him there were no magical creatures here and Harry was just taking his word at face value. Harry’s not really sure if vampires without magic count as magical creatures, the same way he’s unsure those giant shapeshifters without magic count either.
At the table of vampires, Alice is perched neatly next to a blonde-haired male, chatting enthusiastically. They aren’t the same as the vampires Harry’s used to. The first point of difference being they are outside during the day. Seeing as it’s Forks they’re not necessarily in the daylight, but they are outside nevertheless. It’s almost entertaining to watch them act human. The over-exaggerated movements, the way their shoulders move up and down almost in sync, the odd ways they pretend to consume the food on their table that’s not reducing in size. Harry feels like a right dunderhead. He wonders how he didn’t notice this on Monday. He supposes he was a bit out of sorts that day and he had been thrown for a loop when Alice had dredged up memories of Luna, but those aren’t really excuses for not noticing a vampire literal meters from him.
He’s luckily avoided Alice all morning. Or perhaps she never truly came looking for him. He has a feeling that if she wanted to harass him again like she had on Monday then she really would have had no troubles doing so. It actually feels as though Alice is attempting to avoid Harry now, rather than befriend him. The reason why, however, is unclear—and unsettling.
The light brown-haired male at the table, the one sitting slightly separate with a wounded dog expression, looks up, catching Harry’s eyes with his own. Harry feels it then—a slight nudge against his occulmency barriers. He narrows his eyes at the vampire and breaks the eye contact, mentally reinforcing his shields.
Not that it would matter much, anyway.
Harry’s mind healer told him his mind is unfathomable to those who enter, untraversable. A darkness that encroaches and smothers them, trips them into horrible memories and pulls at their sense of self until they find themselves lost in the festering hollows of his mind. It’s why Harry worked so hard on his occulmency. Wouldn’t want someone to accidentally get lost in his mind after all. He’s had enough of sharing the space. He’d almost lost his third mind healer in there and that was traumatising in and of itself.
“Who are they?” Harry asks his lunch group, turning his gaze back to his lunch and away from the molten gold ones staring at him. “The ones with Alice.”
Those at his table turn to look. Mike glowers and doesn’t seem inclined to answer, taking a chunk out of his pizza instead. Angela—the girl with the camera, whose name Harry finally learnt—lets out a little giggle, smirking at Harry.
“Someone caught your eye?” She teases.
“Just curious. Haven’t noticed them before. I talked to Alice on my first day,” Harry says to Angela.
“They’re the Cullens,” Jessica replies instead. “They were away yesterday, so you wouldn’t have seen them. Their parents pull them out of school when the weather’s nice and they all go hiking and camping and stuff. Tried that idea out on my parents. Not even close.” She rolls her eyes, stabbing her salad with a huff.
Harry takes another bite of his lunch, feeling the eyes of the Cullens on the back of his neck. He debates what he can ask without dragging too much attention to himself. It’s obvious they are already interested in him—or perhaps wary. Alice was the first person to speak to him, after all, and the brunette keeps poking his mind as though to do so more times would miraculously allow him entry. Harry wonders now how much of the welcome committee was true, and how much was a plan by Alice to simply get close to him. But why? Do they know who he is? Are they aware of wizards? Or is there a different reason for their interest? The unknowns make him uncomfortable.
Harry’s not completely sure what these unusual vampires are capable of, but he wouldn’t put it past them to have enhanced senses. One of the males obviously has some sort of mind ability, some way to infiltrate, but for what outcome he’s unsure. Harry might need to have a little conversation with the male if he continues to be so overt with his attempts to view Harry’s mind. He wouldn’t want to have him lost in there, after all. Plus, Harry simply despises having others pick around his brain like a free-for-all.
Luckily for Harry, Jessica is keen enough to prattle about the Cullens without any probably-not-subtle prompting from him.
“They’re all adopted, apparently. They moved here from Alaska like a year ago so Dr Cullen could help out at the hospital.” She leans across a little, bunching closer to Harry and Bella. “And, they’re all together. Like, together together,” she whispers conspiratorially. “Alice is with Jasper, the blonde guy who looks like he’s in pain. The big guy, Emmett, he’s with the other girl, Rosalie,” Jessica finishes.
“What about him?” Bella asks.
“That’s Edward,” Angela chimes in. “He’s in Biology with you two and Mike. Pretty sure he’s single, but he keeps to himself so who really knows. Maybe he’s got a girlfriend back in Alaska.” Harry’s yet to make it to a biology class, so its a nice surprise to hear Bella is in his class too.
Jessica scoffs. “More like no one here is good enough for him.”
“Oh,” Bella says lightly, finishing off the salad she carefully crafted earlier.
“So they’re siblings?” Harry can’t help the small laugh that bubbles out.
The idea of adopted vampires is quite funny. He wonders how that story makes sense to the muggles. For there to be five adopted teenagers who just so happen to be drop-dead gorgeous with golden eyes and snow-pale skin. Do they think Dr Cullen just has requirements for a person’s looks before they can be adopted?
“It’s weird if you ask me,” Mike interjects Jessica’s reply. “They’re siblings. They shouldn’t be dating.”
“Well, they’re not really related,” Angela argues.
“They live together!” The other male at the table interjects—one Harry is assured Angela has a crush on. Harry can’t for the life of him remember his name. “It’s weird.”
Harry just shrugs. “I’ve seen weirder.”
“Really? At that boarding school of yours?” Mike looks unconvinced.
Harry thinks of Nearly-Headless Nick scaring students in the hallways, of Hermione as a polyjuice-potioned cat, of giants and mermaids, of Quidditch matches and arms with no bones. He thinks of ear-wax flavoured beans and singing hats and stairs that disappear, of combusting birds and life-size chess pieces and love-potioned chocolates. Yes, he thinks, I’ve seen much weirder. Harry smiles in response.
“Has anyone done the Spanish homework?” He asks instead. “Can I copy the last answer?”
Bella, in what may be becoming their thing, accepts his horrible attempt at a subject change and quickly offers up her homework. He’s quite chuffed, since Bella’s Spanish is apparently the best out of all of them—except for maybe the other male at the table, whose name is elusive. Harry’s Spanish is, as expected, quite horrible. He’s never had the need nor time to consider learning another language. He supposes now he has enough of both that it’s likely beneficial for him to do so. Maybe one day he’ll find himself in another country. It certainly gives him more options of places to hide. Plus, he might find it enjoyable to travel around one day. When everyone has left him.
The table continues their chattering, Harry only commenting when addressed, as he copies down the last answer from Bella’s homework. For the entire remaining lunch period, Harry can feel eyes boring into the back of his head, can feel the scraping along his mind. He has half a thought to march right up to the vampire and tell him to cut it out. But he can’t. Not yet, at least. He needs more information before he confronts them all. He’ll do a little research tonight and perhaps firecall Hermione. He’s hesitant to do so, since she’ll likely want him to cut and run from Forks. It’s not the worst idea, considering there’s now two types of creatures here when they thought there were a grand total of zero. But if Harry’s honest, he doesn’t want to leave yet.
He’s managed to, somehow, settle into Forks within the week and—few days of spiralling aside—he quite likes the town and surrounding forest. He even has muggle friends! Or, burgeoning friends, at least. Something Harry hasn’t had for as long as he can remember.
Muggle friends who don’t know Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived, and his entire tragic backstory, the trauma and death laced into his very being. So what if there are a few shapeshifters and vampires? They’re not something Harry can’t deal with on his own anyway, now that magic leaks from his very pores, unbridled and unrestrained by the Horcrux it once had to subdue.
Since becoming aware of his status as Master of Death, his magic changed again, evolved even further than when he killed Voldemort. It feels as though he has two types of magic now. His own magic, fiery and erratic, filled with bursts of energy like cracks of lightening. And the magic of Death, slow and heavy, like a rolling darkness that grows so subtly it’s almost impossible to escape from by the time you notice it’s choking you.
It’s with resolution that Harry decides to do his own research before telling Hermione about this new development of muggle vampires in Forks. He wants to stay, even if just a week longer. If things go south, well, he can just obliviate them and be on his merry way.
The bell rings and he hands Bella her homework with a thanks. As they leave the cafeteria, Harry’s overly aware of a set of golden eyes following his every step.
___
At the end of Spanish class, Bella stops Harry from his usual abrupt exit.
“Hey, James? Are you free right now?”
“Uh, why?” He asks defensively. Plans sound horrible—even if they’re with Bella, who has quickly become his favourite muggle in just two days.
“My dad has been trying to get a hold of you all week,” she explains. At Harry’s confused face, she clarifies, “He’s the Chief of Police. I think he just wants to check in, since you’re new to town and all, but he hasn’t been able to find your house…” she trails off. “If you’re free, he’s asked if I can bring you round tonight. Just for a few minutes. I mentioned that we met yesterday, so…”
Harry sighs heavily and shuffles his bag on his shoulder. He wants to say no. He’d heard somewhere that Bella was the daughter of the Chief of Police, but he wasn’t aware there was some custom of being greeted by him. He wonders if this is again a muggle thing he simply had no exposure to during his childhood, or if this is a small town, American thing. Maybe he should adjust his wards slightly. Though, if he goes and visits the Chief then there’s really no need to do so, since there would be no reason for anyone to come looking for him again. Plus, it’s much more work to allow select muggles inside his wards when he has to filter them by intent rather than by who they actually are.
“Yeah, alright,” Harry finally agrees. “I’ve got some time.”
“Great!” Bella smiles and picks up her bag, shoving her books in quickly. “You can just follow behind my truck. It’s not far.”
In the car park, Harry spots the Cullens next to two cars, one an obnoxious red thing and the other a simple silver one. He squints his eyes to see the make of the cars but even once he can see them, Harry realises they mean nothing to him. Unlike motorcycles, he’s horribly uneducated on cars. Honestly, if it weren’t for the fact Bella’s truck is as loud as Hagrid’s snores and rusted to hell, Harry wouldn’t even have known her car was considered old and run-down. It had been a gift apparently. Bella honestly looks quite fitting in the hulking red thing.
He slips onto his motorbike, pulls his helmet on—he’s on the way to the Chief’s house, after all—and revs the engine alive. As Bella pulls ahead of him, waving to Angela out her window on her way past, Harry glances over at the vampires again. They’re watching him. Harry feels quite like he’s being sized up. The one male, Edward, stares him down again, eyes intense with focus as he brushes against Harry’s mental shields again. Harry crinkles his eyes with amusement and a small huff of humour slips from his nose. He slams his visor down and peels from the lot, dropping into place behind Bella.
____
The Swan residence is just a few minutes drive from the school off a quiet street with a large yard backing onto the forest. It’s quaint and homely and Harry is nostalgic for a home he’s never had. He wonders what it would have been like to grow up in a house like Bella’s. He parks his motorbike and swings his legs off just as Chief Swan steps onto the porch. Harry quickly takes his helmet off, dangling it from the handlebars.
“Hey Dad,” Bella says, climbing the steps. “This is James.” She gestures for Harry to follow and he does, eyeing up the Chief.
“Nice to meet you, James,” Chief Swan says, shaking Harry’s had with a firm grip. “You drive safe on that thing, y’hear?”
“Yes, sir. It’s nice to meet you. Bella said you’ve been looking for me.”
Bella steps inside, holding the door open with her foot. Chief Swan follows her and beckons Harry, leading him to the left into a small kitchen. Bella takes her bag upstairs, holding up a finger to Harry to say she’ll just be a minute. The table is a small three-person affair, pushed against the window and sporting a few unopened letters on top. They both take a seat across from each other and Harry feels a little like he’s in detention. He rubs at the glamoured scar on his hand.
“Yeah, I headed out to your place but it’s hard to find…” Chief Swan trails off with a frown. “Well, Bella mentioned you’d met at school, so I asked her to bring you over.”
“The driveway is notoriously hard to spot,” Harry fibs quickly. “Was there something you needed, sir?”
Bella steps into the kitchen quietly, stopping in the doorway as though hesitating on whether to join them.
“No, well, I just wanted to check in. It’s not often we get new people in Forks. Specially not teenagers. Your parents around?”
Harry shakes his head. “I’m an orphan, sir.”
Bella takes a seat at that, sending him a small smile of encouragement and glaring at her dad.
“You live alone then?” Chief Swan perks an eyebrow.
“Just me.”
“Right.” There’s an awkward pause and Chief Swan clears his through before saying, “Well, I’m here if you need anything, son. Can’t be easy living on your own out there.”
“Thank you, sir.”
And Harry wonders if that’s really it. If he trekked over here—a total of two minutes out of his way—just to sit through this conversation. To be honest, he was expecting to be questioned more, for him to have to recall those lessons with Hermione on what to say to muggles, the excuses he can use that they’ll accept and the stories they have planned. He didn’t even have to mention his Aunt and Uncle who visit him from Seattle. Who would obviously be acted by Hermione and Ron, if the excuse was needed. Apparently Ron has been working on his American accent for the role. Hermione said he’s quite keen to get amongst the muggles and tell a few tall tales of a grueling office job selling muggle electronics.
“Actually, one of the boys from the res asked about you, too. Asked if I could get you to visit. Said he found something of yours out in the forest. You been hiking recently?”
Harry nods, although he hasn’t been out since he met the shapeshifters. He also never took anything with him on the hike, so there is no chance he lost anything.
“The res?” He asks slowly, glancing at Bella.
“The Quileute Reservation,” she explains. “West of Forks, towards the coast.”
“So he wants me to visit?”
Chief Swan lets out a short laugh. “Guess I weren’t the only one who had trouble finding ya.”
“I guess I can visit. How about Sunday afternoon?” Harry smiles sheepishly.
The afternoon will give him time to debrief with Hermione on Saturday and decide on a plan of action. Harry knows he never left anything in the forest. That leaves only one option—one possibility for how this boy from the Reservation knew Harry had been hiking. Shapeshifter. Why they want to talk to Harry is beyond him, but he won’t be going in unprepared.
First, he’ll need to find as much information as he can on these muggle shapeshifters and understand what their abilities are. How they might differ from magical werewolves. He knows how to fight magical werewolves, but Harry has a feeling muggle shapeshifters will be different. They already look different, even if they’re as tall as Ron, they’re nowhere near the seven foot height Remus used to reach when he turned. Plus they’re much less gangly prancing around on all fours than Remus was. They’re kinda cute, really. Very soft looking.
“I’ll let them know you’re coming by then.”
Chief Swan’s smile is soft and caring, his eyes scrunch at the side with heavy laugh lines. Harry thinks about his own father. How young he was when he died. Maybe James Potter could have smiled at him like that. Could have had a face weathered with happiness. Not even Harry will have that now.
“Right well, I’ll be off then,” Harry says quickly, deciding to cut that train of thought where it was. He doesn’t need to spiral again. He could do with letting off some magical steam. He really should change the Grimmauld dungeon into a duelling room like Ron suggested all those years ago.
“Thanks for coming by.”
They shake hands briefly and Bella follows Harry outside, waving goodbye when he pulls away.