Green & Gold

Harry was the single most idiotic person to walk this earth. Truly, the fact that he had lived long enough to become unkillable was a testament to Hermione’s brains and Ron’s strategies, not anything of his own.

What kind of half-wit wizard goes and tells a bunch of muggles about wrecking a car then denies any injuries?

Idiot.

Harry had been surprised when he struck the tree in the bottom of the deep ditch he rolled his car down. He stared at what used to be the dashboard for a long moment, his annoyance and adrenaline masking the pain that struck him only seconds later.

Apparently being the ‘master of death’ didn’t come with immunity from physical pain and injuries.

Which was something at least.

He had finally thought to pull his invisibility cloak from his bag and heal himself beneath it. He honestly had no idea what to do about the car though. It was another driving thing that Jacob and Hermione hadn’t covered. The cloak was too small to conceal the car to try and repair it without the other muggle cars driving by seeing it, and Harry didn’t much fancy being arrested by MACUSA for obliviating any witnesses, so he simply left the car where it was. He cleaned himself up and walked to the Cullen/Hale house (with gratuitous use of the point-me spell because Alice’s directions were confusing), and then nearly exposed magic to a house full of muggles.

All in all, not his best plan.

‘I’m going to save Sirius!’

‘We’ll take the threstrals of course.’

‘The Dark Lord always knows.’

Sirius, falling.

Though not his worst one either.

It was a pain to leave his car with Rosalie, he thought a few reparo’s would fix it much quicker than a muggle could. But he also kind of wasn’t sure if it was even fixable. Harry could easily admit he didn’t know anything about cars, barely knew how to drive as today’s events had shown, but he was certain they weren’t meant to be so crunched up either.

Harry absently cleaned up his house, he had been incredibly embarrassed at having Jasper see the mess everywhere and figured it was as good of a cause as any to clean up, and he considered replacing his car. He thought he might just buy one like Rosalie’s. Having the roof come off like that would be wicked. It would feel just like flying, without reminding him of anything that would start ‘an episode’.

Of course, in Forks, it would also be cold and wet. But ever since he came back from the dead (and what a bloody statement that was) he hardly noticed temperatures anyway. He knew Jacob felt warm to the touch, and Alice and her father cold, but the wind and rain outside didn’t bother him at all.

Once his living room and bedroom were reasonably clean, Harry turned his attentions to the kitchen.

How did a room he never used get so dirty?

Harry was forcing the windows open, letting the smell of rain and the orange glow of the sunset fill the house, when someone firmly knocked on his front door.

“Coming,” Harry called irritably, certain it was Jasper returning. He liked Jasper, his mind lingered on his thick honey-blonde hair, dark golden eyes, and softly spoken voice maybe a little too much, but Harry really didn’t want to spend the entire night repeating ‘I’m fine’ over and over.

“I’m f- oh.” Harry blinked at the flannel topped, blue jeaned man in front of him. “You’re not Jasper,” he said dumbly.

“Charlie Swan,” the police chief reminded him of his name, giving Harry a piercing gaze that unwillingly reminded him of Snape.

’Look... at... me...’

“Thought maybe I’d do my civic duty and invite my neighbor to dinner.”

Harry blinked rapidly at Chief Swan, bemused by his gruffly delivered offer.

“I- er...”

Was this normal muggle behavior in the States? It certainly hadn’t been in Surrey. If one of the neighbors on Private Drive had shown up at six in the evening, inviting his aunt and uncle to dinner, they would have politely declined then talked about the neighbors ‘low class of manners.’

And at some point they would have compared them to Harry and found a way to insult and punish him.

“No thanks?” Harry said. He’d meant to sound firm, wanting to be left alone by all these muggles, but his confusion at the situation led to it sounding more like a question. “I’m not hungry,” he said much more firmly. “Thank you though.”

Chief Swan’s mustache above his lips twitched a bit, something Harry said apparently amusing him.

“You already had dinner then?” he asked.

“Yes,” Harry lied.

This time Chief Swan actually chuckled, which Harry thought was rather rude and also annoying.

“You’re a bad liar son,” he said. “You been to Patsy’s yet?”

Harry, who had no idea what Patsy’s was, and who was beginning to feel even more mystified by muggles, just shook his head.

“My treat then.”

Harry would have told him no again, he opened his mouth to say it, but something in Charlie’s eyes stopped him. They were a warm brown, a shade lighter than Ginny’s, and even though he was smiling and looked amused by Harry, he also looked lonely.

And, well, Harry could empathize with that, couldn’t he?

“What’s a Patsy’s?” he asked. Charlie, seeing Harry’s question as the admittance of defeat that it was, shook his head at him.

“Best chow in town,” he said. “It’s my favorite place to grab a bite. Course, it’s that or that place Jacobson owns and he wants to charge an arm and a leg for a steak.”

Harry desperately needed to talk to Hermione. Rosalie aggressively offering to fix Harry’s car, not letting him pay her. Carlisle volunteering to give him a medical exam, probably thinking Harry was afraid of hospitals or something. Esme with her sweet heart shaped face and kind eyes saying he could take one of their (obviously expensive) cars, despite just wrecking his own. Jasper driving him home, ’maybe my number then?’ and talking about music and his life to Harry. And now the Chief of Police (which he assumed was like the muggle version of Head Auror) inviting him to dinner.

Hermione would know if this was normal American muggle behavior.

“You can ride up front,” Chief Swan offered once Harry had slowly followed him out to his police car. Harry squinted at him, not entirely sure he wasn’t about to be arrested for something, but he slowly got in the front seat.

He’d just apparate to his house and floo to Grimmauld if he needed to go on the run from the muggle police.

“So what brought you to Forks?”

“I’m experiencing American culture,” Harry said, using the same excuse Hermione once gave Billy. Chief Swan snorted lightly, giving Harry a side glance that told him that this man was more perceptive than he assumed he was.

“American culture in Forks, huh? You just grab a map and pick a place at random?”

“No,” Harry grinned faintly at the Chief’s dry tone despite himself. “I’ve got relatives that live nearby.”

“Is that so? I didn’t know there were any Potter’s in town.”

“They aren’t Potters,” Harry admitted, ignoring the pang of grief at the reminder that he was the last Potter.

Would always be the last Potter.

“They’re Blacks, they live in-“

“La Push,” Chief Swan said. “You’re related to Billy and Jacob?”

Apparently Chief Swan not only knew everyone in Forks, but also the surrounding towns.

“Yeah, Billy’s kind of like... my uncle, I guess.”

Chief Swan pulled in to a parking lot of a little brick diner-

’Do we kill them? They’d kill us.’

Hermione and Ron nearly dead in their red vinyl booth because Harry used Voldemort’s name. Had to prove he wasn’t scared.

“You getting out?”

Harry was pulled from the thoughts of the last diner he had been in, only a little over a year ago now, by Chief Swan’s voice. He saw that the other man had already made it out of the car and was waiting for Harry.

“Sorry.” Harry climbed out and went inside the diner, Chief Swan whistling merrily all the while.

“Charlie!” The woman by the cash register, a plump woman with grey curls and bright red lipstick, smiled happily at Chief Swan. “The usual then?”

“He’ll need a menu,” Chief Swan said, smiling at the woman while he jerked his thumb at Harry. “Harry’s never been here before.”

“Oh!” The woman seemed to just now notice Harry, as he was ducking his head to avoid her curious gaze. “You must be Harry Potter! You just moved here didn’t you dear?”

Harry thought that perhaps all these muggles just spent hours on the telephone gossiping, as much as they all seemed to know about one another.

“Yes ma’am,” Harry said politely. “I moved in over the summer.”

“Well aren’t you the sweetest,” the woman beamed at Harry and he noticed she was missing one of her front teeth down in the bottom row. “You just go sit down and I’ll bring you boys a menu and some coffee.”

Harry awkwardly sat at the counter that Chief Swan led him to and wondered how he always seemed to find himself in the oddest situations.

Potter luck probably.

Chief Swan didn’t seem much interested in forcing conversation, he just exchanged smiles and waves with the other patrons who were all watching the two of them curiously.

“Nosy bastards,” Chief Swan abruptly chuckled. “You ever lived in a small town before?”

“Kinda,” Harry shrugged, running his fingers lightly over the marble countertop. “Little Whining’s a tad bit bigger than Forks I think.”

“Well small towns are great,” Chief Swan told him. “Everyone’s always willing to lend a helping hand, you know? But they’re nosy as hell son. Always clucking about to each other.”

Harry just hummed, not sure what he was meant to say. Thankfully the waitress, Brenda her name tag said, came over and handed Harry a menu and left them a pot of coffee and promises of fresh pie for dessert.

“Steaks the best,” Chief Swan said, nodding at the menu Harry was awkwardly studying. “But the chili’s good too.”

“Sounds good then,” Harry closed the menu and chewed his lower lip while Chief Swan watched him add sugar and milk to his coffee.

“Heard you made friends with the Cullen kids,” the Chief said conversationally after they placed their orders.

“Guess so...” Harry wondered if Chief Swan was as guilty of ‘clucking about’ with the other townsfolk as he accused the diner patrons of being. Either that or he was an excellent police chief.

“Good,” Chief Swan nodded his head at Harry and his tanned face had a look of approval on it. “The Cullens are good folks. We’re real lucky to have them here. Never had a bit of trouble of those kids. Not even a speeding ticket,” he gave Harry a crooked grin, “I thought I might when they first moved in, with all those teenagers living together.”

Harry grinned reluctantly, he imagined that he was probably the most problematic citizen of this town.

“Doctor Cullen’s a good sort too,” the Chief went on. “He took a real pay cut to come work here. They don’t deserve all the gossip about them.”

“They seem nice,” Harry offered in agreement.

“They are.” Chief Swan had a stubborn set to his jaw as he sent furtive looks at the others muggles sitting in their booths.

Harry didn’t know if he was expected to respond to that, so he simply hummed and the two of them sat in silence while they waited for their meals. When Brenda finally came back, a heavy tray in her arms, she gave Chief Swan ‘his usual’, which was just a steak, potato, and green beans, and Harry a giant bowl of chili. She also gave them each a huge slice of apple pie ‘on the house’.

Which Harry thought was kind of her, even if her winking smiles were too cheery for his taste.

“I don’t know how they do it in England, but we usu.ally eat by putt.ing foo.d in our m.ouths.” Chief Swan was watching Harry push the food around in his bowl, stirring it more than actually eating. Harry would have reminded him that he had said he wasn’t hungry, but he was pretty sure the Chief wouldn’t take it as a good excuse. So Harry resigned himself to picking at the chili, the beans were spicier than he had before, but not unpleasant.

Chief Swan grunted in approval as Harry picked at his food. He watched with a sense of parental concern as the kid with big sad eyes, no family, and a reckless disregard for traffic laws consumed less than a boy his age should.

“You remind me a bit of my daughter,” he said, smacking his stomach in satisfaction at the meal he eventually finished off.

“Yeah?” Harry looked at him curiously. “How’s that?”

“Dunno.” Chief Swan scratched the black stubble on his face as he thought about it. “You seem more mature than other kids your age. Isabella’s like that too.”

“Oh.”

Harry wondered if Isabella had also been born with the mission to save the wizarding world from a madman, watch as friends were struck down during the process, and end with the knowledge that she’d be alone for the rest of eternity.

He kind of doubted it.

“She’ll be sixteen in a few days, lives in Phoenix with her mom.” Chief Swan sounded mournful; he clearly cared quite a bit for his daughter. Harry thought he must not see her much if he sounded so wistful.

“Is Phoenix very far away?” Harry asked, shoving his bowl away from himself, and startling a laugh from the Chief.

“Phoenix is in Arizona son,” Chief Swan chuckled. His eyes lightened at Harry’s unintentionally amusing question, the mournful expression changing to one of mirth. “Geography not a strong suit for you then?”

“I’m starting to think I don’t have a strong suit,” Harry grouched a bit irritably. “I’m probably going to fail all my classes.”

“Don’t stress too much. High school was the best four years of my life, I met Isabella’s mom when I was still in school. Grades aren’t the most important part of high school, but I’m sure you’ll get by.”

“Thanks?” Harry thought Hermione might lose her mind if she heard this muggle say that grades aren’t that important. He might tell her just to see how indignant she got.

Chief Swan nudged one of the slices of apple pie in front of Harry and waited until he took a bite before he began polishing off his own piece.

“You do much fishing?”

“Er... no,” Harry said. “I don’t.”

Chief Swan narrowed his soft brown eyes at Harry, studying him intently for a long moment, before his mustache twitched in amusement again.

“Not high speed enough for you?”

Harry had the grace to blush at the reminder that the Chief had gotten calls about his driving, but he did shake his head.

“Just never been,” he shrugged.

Which was apparently a true crime in Chief Swan’s book because when he dropped Harry back off that night (‘here’s my house number, call me if you need anything, that’s what neighbors are for’) he did so with a promise to take Harry fishing with ‘some of the guys’ at some point.

Harry entered his house and shook his head.

American muggles were all very strange.