Harry Potter had always wanted a fresh start. After witnessing the death of his godfather, Sirius Black, he had seen enough war, enough death, and enough darkness to last a lifetime. So when he received the opportunity to move to America, far from the burdens of the prophecy, far from the Boy Who Lived label, he took it. The bustling streets of London gave way to the quiet town of Beacon Hills. He hoped it would be ordinary, dull even. That’s all he wanted now.
But Beacon Hills had its own secrets.
Harry walked into Beacon Hills High on his first day, keeping to himself, his British accent drawing a few curious glances. He was just grateful no one here knew who he was, what he had been through, or expected him to save the world. He could blend into the background, stay out of the spotlight for once.
Except, blending in wasn’t so easy when you met someone like Stiles Stilinski.
Stiles was... odd, but in a good way. He wasn’t like the other kids who politely greeted Harry and then forgot about him. No, Stiles struck up conversations with Harry almost every chance he got, making Harry laugh with his rambling, sarcastic humor. He never seemed to judge Harry, not for his quietness, or the shadows behind his eyes. It was as though Stiles knew what it felt like to be haunted by things that couldn’t be explained.
They hit it off immediately, and it wasn’t long before Harry found himself gravitating toward Stiles’ eccentric energy. There was something about him that felt safe, easy. He wasn’t sure if Stiles felt the same, but there were moments, fleeting glances, half-smiles, that made Harry wonder if his growing crush was maybe, just maybe, reciprocated.
There was just one problem: Scott McCall.
Scott, Stiles' best friend, was... annoying, to put it mildly. Harry couldn’t quite pinpoint why he disliked him so much, but Scott seemed overly protective of Stiles, always hovering around and inserting himself into their conversations. And Allison, Scott’s girlfriend, was even worse. Harry could see how naive she was, especially when it came to certain things, and her moral righteousness grated on him.
"She's just doing what she thinks is right," Stiles had once explained when Harry expressed his frustration about something Allison had done. But Harry thought she was reckless, acting without truly understanding the consequences.
And Scott... well, Harry could see how Scott was sometimes unnecessarily harsh toward Stiles. Maybe that’s what really got to him—how Scott treated his best friend, like he didn’t always see how brilliant Stiles was. That only made Harry more protective of him.
When Scott invited Harry to a sleepover at Derek Hale's loft, Harry felt something was off. He could sense the tension in Scott’s voice, the way he eyed him with suspicion. But Harry, trying to keep the peace for Stiles’ sake, accepted. He could handle a night with Scott and his so-called "pack," right?
Wrong.
The atmosphere in Derek’s loft was tense from the moment Harry walked in. The “pack” was there, Lydia, Isaac, Boyd, and Erica, all of them watching him like he was some kind of intruder. Scott seemed oddly smug, which only put Harry on edge. It didn’t take long for the subtle jabs to start, first from Isaac, then Erica.
"So, Harry," Isaac said casually, his eyes gleaming in the dim light of the loft. "Why Beacon Hills? Seems like a weird place for someone like you."
"Someone like me?" Harry raised an eyebrow, trying to keep his calm.
"Yeah, you know, with your... mysterious background," Erica added, leaning in, a cruel smirk on her lips.
It was clear they had been briefed by Scott. He was suspicious of Harry, probably thought Harry was some kind of supernatural creature looking to harm Stiles. Harry didn’t even know what kind of supernatural creatures Scott and his friends were. But the glares, the passive-aggressive comments, it was all too familiar.
"Look," Harry said, exasperated, "I’m not here to cause trouble. I just moved here to…"
"To what? Befriend Stiles?" Scott finally spoke up, standing tall, the leader of the group. "What do you want with him?"
"Excuse me?" Harry was starting to lose his patience.
"You heard me. You’re hiding something, and I don’t trust you."
Before Harry could respond, the door to the loft banged open. Stiles walked in, looking confused and slightly out of breath. His eyes darted between the group and Harry, his brow furrowed.
"What’s going on?" Stiles asked, his voice tense. "Why is everyone staring at Harry like he just kicked your puppies?"
"Stiles, stay out of this," Scott warned, but Stiles wasn’t having it.
"No, Scott, I won’t ‘stay out of this.’" Stiles stepped forward, standing beside Harry. "What the hell is your problem? Why are you treating him like he’s done something wrong?"
"Because he has," Scott snapped. "I don’t know what, but I know he’s dangerous. He’s hiding something, Stiles."
"Yeah, well, so are you!" Harry retorted, his frustration boiling over. "I don’t know what your deal is with me, but I’m not here to hurt anyone. And by the way, I know what you are."
The room went silent.
Harry glanced around at the pack, catching their wide eyes and stunned expressions. He didn’t know exactly what they were, but the looks they were exchanging made it clear they weren’t fully human.
"It wasn’t a secret." Harry said dryly, crossing his arms, "You’re not very good at hiding it."
Scott’s eyes flashed a vibrant gold for a split second before he quickly turned away. Derek, who had been standing quietly in the corner, finally stepped forward, his expression neutral but his voice commanding.
"Enough," Derek said, his tone brokering no argument. "This ends now."
Stiles shot Scott a withering glare. "You invited him here just to ambush him? Seriously, Scott? What the hell?"
"It wasn’t supposed to go this far," Scott muttered, looking guilty now. "I just... I thought he was dangerous."
"Well, he’s not," Stiles said firmly, turning to Harry with a small, apologetic smile. "Sorry about this. Some people have... trust issues."
Harry’s frustration began to ebb away. Stiles was on his side. That was all that mattered.
"Don’t worry about it," Harry replied, smiling back, though his heart raced a bit from how close Stiles was standing.
As the tension eased, Derek eyed Harry curiously but said nothing more. The rest of the pack was silent, seemingly accepting that Harry wasn’t a threat.
"So," Stiles said brightly, clearly trying to lighten the mood, "who’s up for an actual sleepover now that we’ve got the whole ‘Harry’s-not-evil’ thing cleared up?"
Harry chuckled softly, feeling more at ease now. Maybe Beacon Hills wasn’t as normal as he had hoped, but as long as he had Stiles by his side, maybe that wasn’t such a bad thing.