eins
Harry sat in a cozy diner in the small town of Forks, Washington. He absentmindedly watched the rain pouring down from the grey skies as it pelted against the windows. Sipping at his cup of tea, he hummed contently as the hot liquid warmed his aching body. The smell of apple pie wafted through the room as it was pulled fresh out of the oven.
Since becoming the Master of Death, his allies had constantly dwindled until all but two remained. Fear spread at the news that the powerful victor against Voldemort could not perish. Draco and Hermione were not the two he would have expected to stay by his side, but he was eternally grateful. The two had argued for weeks about a plan to get Harry out of the Wizarding World after the latest arrest attempt. The years since the war saw tensions among the magical community rising and them becoming hostile towards him. Even though Hermione was Minister, she couldn’t change the minds of those who harbored distrust. Fear was a powerful emotion, afterall. It was finally decided that Harry would leave the country in order to avoid the discrimination in Britain, especially with the threat of Azkaban looming.
Hermione had compiled a list of small towns in order for him to avoid detection, and the closeness to the sea and forests was what won Harry over. Thanks to Draco’s less than legal connections, he was able to get the necessary papers in order for him to become a citizen and purchase a house.
Life had been good since he had moved into his new house the previous week. He finally had a space to himself, in a peaceful environment, where the pressure of the title “Boy-who-lived” didn’t follow him around. As much as he loved Hogwarts, it was no place he wanted to return to for his seventh year, nor later one that he wanted to accept a Defense professor position at. There were too many ghosts, too many echoes of screams and pain and grief soaked into the very foundation of the castle. There were too many people around, too much noise. It would never again be the safe haven for him as it was for his eleven year old self.
The only downfall to his new home was the fact that he would have to register for the town’s school. Looking 18 eternally would mean too many questions if he was seen not attending school. And he wanted to avoid any form of interrogation if possible. Hermione also thought it would be a good way to pass time.
“You’ll be bored without it!”, she exclaimed. “Draco and I will be busy at The Ministry and St. Mungos, and since you won’t be there, you’ll have to find someone to talk to!”
Harry didn’t think he needed to talk to anyone, but a raised eyebrow and pointed look from his bushy-haired friend halted any arguments he might have. Draco snickered at his predicament unashamedly as Harry glared at him playfully. Resigned to his fate, he registered, and spent the days before the term unpacking his boxes in the company of Draco and Hermione. He was now spending the final night in the calming ambiance of the diner, soaking up the last vestiges of peace before having to be surrounded by hundreds of loud teenagers. His friends had already left through the floo set up in his fireplace and returned to Britain in order to get back to their respective jobs. Hermione and Draco had both hugged him fiercely, and made him promise that he would floo call during the week and to always ask for help if he needed. It was a heady feeling, having people care for your wellbeing, Harry thought to himself.
He drained his tea, and with a final sigh, stood from his table in the far corner and threw a couple dollars down before pushing the door open to leave. A bell signaled his departure, and he waved hesitantly at Cora following her farewell to him.
Harry slowly meandered down the sidewalk, admiring the sight of all the trees surrounding him. A short ten minute walk later, he arrived at his front door. He pulled out the house key from his pocket, swinging the door open and then stepping into the foyer. A single photo frame hung on the wall, picturing Harry, Draco, and Hermione the day they officially cemented their previously tentative friendship and celebrated with copious amounts of Firewhiskey. He ached to have photos of Ron up as well, but he knew it would only hurt. Their friendship was no more.
He deftly climbed the stairs to his bedroom and began to get ready for the night. After a hot shower and changing into his pjs, he stood silently in front of the bathroom counter brushing his teeth. Harry blankly stared into the mirror, glancing at the dark purple bags under his eyes and the numerous scars littering his flesh. Static enveloped his mind and he lost time, standing there barefoot on the tile. He came back abruptly minutes later as a tree branch tapped against the window pane. Harry mechanically rinsed the toothbrush and his mouth before walking to his room. Slumping into bed, he pulled the weighted blankets over him and snuggled further into a comfortable position.
Harry awoke with a start, a scream lodged in his chest. Gruesome scenes filtered behind his eyes, filled with flashes of green light and screams from the battlefield. He blinked rapidly to clear the image of mutilated bodies from his vision. It was not uncommon for him anymore to sleep through the night, if at all- nightmares plagued him whenever he finally fell unconscious. Groaning, he scrubbed at his face with his hands and with a deep breath, threw back the covers and made his way downstairs. Shuffling into the kitchen, he fumbled with the coffee pot and watched as the dark liquid filled the ceramic mug.
Once it was finished brewing, he gulped it straight down, wincing slightly at the heat before dismissing it with a roll of the shoulders. He set the dish on the counter, and returned upstairs to get ready.
‘I can’t believe I’m finally returning to Muggle school. And as a 25 year old man, no less!’, he thought morosely.
It was odd, Harry reflected, that he now missed the feeling of wearing robes when they were once something so unfamiliar to him. The simple sweater and baggy jeans that he slipped on suited him well, but it still felt as if something was missing. He knew he couldn’t just wear the robes, though. Gossip would travel fast in a small town, and he’d soon stick out like a sore thumb. Better to blend in, he ascertained.
Glancing at the clock, he cursed when he realized he was cutting it close to being late. He raced back downstairs and was out the door after grabbing his bag and slipping on his vans.
Mounting Sirius' old motorcycle, he sped down the streets towards the school, cigarette in mouth. It was a habit he picked up to cope with the trauma caused by the war, but it wasn't like he cared of the risks- he wouldn't die, anyways, he thought ruefully. Lush green trees blurred past, the wind whipping his hair behind him.
He slowed to turn into the school and whipped into a parking spot before killing the engine. Multiple other cars filled the lot, and groups of students milled about outside before classes started. As he got off the bike, he became aware of the stares he was receiving from the surrounding students. He flicked the cigarette to the ground and crushed it with his foot, scoffing at the gossip he could already hear about a new kid. Harry rolled his eyes and strode confidently towards the school office to receive his schedule.
“Muggles”, he thought. “Staring almost as bad as the gits in Diagon.”
Pulling open the door, Harry walked over to the desk where the receptionist sat typing at her computer. After a moment had passed and the woman had given no indication of noticing his presence, he cleared his throat purposefully. The woman startled and looked up, meeting the eyes of Harry.
„Oh, I’m sorry! I didn’t hear you come in. What can I do for you, sweetie?“
„My name is Harry Evans. I‘m here to pick up my schedule.“
Her eyes lit up in recognition, and she quickly thumbed through a stack of papers at her side before thrusting a piece out towards him.
„Here you go dear, do you need any help finding your way around to your classes?“
„I think I‘ll manage, thank you ma‘am.“ He managed a curt nod before turning and exiting the office into the rest of the building.
Lining the hallways, groups of students gathered around and chatted as they ambled towards their classrooms. He scowled as a student walked too close to him, the contact making his skin crawl. He nimbly maneuvered around a couple holding hands and entered into the room for History. Harry made his way over to the teacher’s desk, holding out the slip to be signed.
The teacher was a tall middle aged man, with an angular face and a strict disposition despite the fact that he wore
“Hello Mr. Evans, welcome to Forks High School. I hope you’re finding your way around okay?” He received a nod from Harry and continued, “Good, good. You want to introduce yourself to the class?”
The slight glare in return made the man chuckle and he simply gestured towards an open seat in the back. “I thought so. Just go ahead and take a seat beside Mr. Hale. Mr Hale, if you could raise your hand please?”
Harry turned in time to see a boy with blonde hair raise his hand, and their eyes met. Green and gold clashed as Harry stared at Jasper in consternation. He felt like death. How curious, that he didn’t share the same feeling of life like all other humans.
‘Great, 20 minutes into the first day and I’ve already found a mystery. Maybe now ‘Mione will believe me when I tell her I don’t go looking for trouble’, Harry thought to himself resignedly.
He shuffled over to the desk and sat his bag on the ground, sliding into the cool plastic chair. Staring ahead at the board, he tried to pay attention to Mr. Bishop’s lecture, but failed as he felt the constant presence of his neighbor’s eyes on the side of his face. Harry slid his eyes over to Jasper, and murmured, “Something to say, Hale?”
The blonde seemed to snap out of whatever reverie he was in and smiled awkwardly. “Sorry, I just wanted to introduce myself. Jasper Hale, but you already knew that, I’m afraid.”
“Harry Evans. Pleasure to meet you.”
“Wonderful accent- British?” Jasper questioned lightly.
“Yes. And you?”
“Texas, born and raised.” He tipped an imaginary hat towards Harry. “At your service, sir.”
A brief flash of amusement coursed through Harry. Perhaps this mystery would not be an issue.