Disclaimer: I dont own Harry potter or Twilight

Authors note: this is my first crossover. I hope you enjoy

Chapter 1

Harry Potter couldn't understand what was going on with his body. He knew he was different he had learned in the passed year that he had magic, but this was a whole new level of different, or as his relatives put it freakiness. He was scared, he was getting smaller, his eye sight had improved to the point where he didn't need glasses anymore, he felt a sudden connectedness with the earth around him...and now he had pointed ears and his scar, the scar that had made him famous in the wizarding world was gone...

He thanked god his relatives hadn't noticed any of the changes, but that was probably because they rarely paid any attention to him, it was only a matter of time before his uncle or aunt realized something was amiss and then there would be hell to pay. He was sure they wouldn't believe him if he told them it wasn't his fault, he just had to look back on the haircut incident to remember how well that went over. He had only just recovered from his most recent beating he had received when he got back from school. Of course he had to be punished for giving Dudley a tail, never mind the fact it had been Hagrid, who was responsible for that little misdeed.

He had just finished pulling the weeds from the garden, when he noticed his uncle's car pulling into the driveway. He tried to make himself as small as possible, and prayed his uncle would continue to ignore him, but of course with his luck his uncle stopped just before the door to the house and turned to look directly at Harry. Harry felt shivers of icy dread run up and down as he met his uncle's gaze for a split second before looking back down at the ground body tense.

His uncle shot a menacing glare at Harry, Harry was sure he had somehow wronged the man in a past life for the level of hatred the man had for him, "boy, get inside!" Before Harry could move he felt his uncle's painful grip upon his arm and he was dragged inside.

"Petunia!" Uncle Vernon called out into the house as he shut the door behind him, almost catching one of Harry's fingers in the door.

"Vernon, what's wrong?" Called Harry's aunt in the sickly sweet tone she reserved for her husband and ickle duddikinns.

"It's the freak, Pet, he's done some of his freakiness again. I won't stand for it Pet I tell you. I refuse to have such freakiness in my house." Petunia came into the entrance way clutching a magazine and hand over her heart.

"What has that wretched boy done now," Harry hated how his relatives constantly talked about him as if he wasn't in the room. He wished his uncle would let go of his arm already, he was sure there was already a handprint bruise forming around his upper arm.

When Aunt Petunia turned to look at Harry she let out a piercing scream, "what have you done to yourself boy, as if you weren't enough of a freak. I won't have this in the house Vernon."

"I know Pet, and look at his ears, it's unnatural, and he looks younger... we said we'd beat the freakiness out of him years ago. Clearly we haven't tried hard enough, clearly the freak needs another lesson." Harry's stomach coiled with fear as his uncle spoke. Part of him wanted to run, but Harry knew that running would be futile because his uncle would find him, and when he did the beating would be ten times worse.

He shut his eyes tight in waited for what he was sure would come. He heard as his aunt made her way to her room, she may of hated him, but she was never sadistic enough to watch a beating. He heard his uncle remove his belt, felt the fear that corsed through his body, felt his uncle fling him to the ground and the first lash to his back. He tried to stay quiet, his uncle just got angrier when Harry screamed, but after a while he couldn't help it. Harry welcomed unconsciousness when it finally came.

Amy Meyers had had enough, she couldn't stand it anymore. She no longer cared what her husband said about not getting involved in other peoples business. She had watched for two years now as her neighbors, the Dursleys, treated their nephew like a slave. It made her sick to her stomach thinking about how long she had stood there doing nothing to help the little boy in that house. The scream she had just heard, the child's scream of pain...she knew she wouldn't be able to live with herself now if she didn't do anything to help the little boy in that house.

She ran to the phone and dialed 9-9-9, "police emergency, can I help you?" Called a voice from the phone.

"Yes," Amy heard another child's scream and thought she might be sick, "please you have to help me there's a boy... A boy next door. I think his relatives are hurting him. Please you need to come quickly." Yet another scream was heard, and Amy couldn't stop herself she started crying. "Please he's screaming," she sobbed.

"Okay, Miss, can you tell me the child's address?"

"Umm...yes, it's number 4 Privet Drive, Surrey. Ohh... God I can't hear him any more. You have to do something."

"Miss, there are emergency services on their way now. Can you tell me who else might be in the house?"

"I think the son is out, it's just the husband and wife."

"Okay Miss police services will be there in a few minutes. Can you stay on the phone with me?"

"Umm...yes."

"Okay, Miss can you tell me anything about the boy?"

"His name is Harry...Harry Potter. I don't know how old he is...maybe ten, but he's so small. He's a sweet boy always so polite. I think he's the Dursley's nephew, I don't know why they don't like him he's so well behaved. I knew something was wrong in that house, I should have done something sooner. He's always wearing rags and I sometimes see bruises. I wanted to do something but Phil said I was overreacting...that it's none of our business..."

"It's not your fault miss, try to remain calm-"

"Oh thank god, I see them, the police are here," Amy watched through her window curtains as the police knocked on the door, she watched as Vernon Dursley yelled at them and as they put him in handcuffs. She watched as medics entered the house and came out with a tiny boy on a stretcher, covered in blood. She put a hand to her mouth and sobbed, she should have done something sooner.

Carlisle Cullen had had a relaxing day at the hospital. He had only a few patients and those were only mild injuries. As an ER doctor he knew it was only a matter of time before something happened, this was the calm before the storm. As if in sinc with his thoughts a ER nurse, Linda, came running over to him, he was surprised to see that her usual flirtatious demeanor was gone, the case must be bad for her to stop hitting on him.

"Suspect child abuse on the way Doctor Cullen, ETA five minutes," Carlisle swore under his breath, if there was one act he could never forgive it would be child abuse. As vampires, he and Esme were never able to have children, they had 'adopted' but it would never be the same as being able to have a child to raise and charish. What type of cruel human being would stoop so low as to hurt the innocent and defenseless?

"Thank you, Linda. What do we know so far?"

"The paramedics said he looks to be about six maybe seven, his name is Harry Potter. They believe he has broken ribs, a broken arm and wrist, a broken leg, likely a concussion, and multiple bruises and lacerations," Linda shook her head in obvious disgust, "I hope the monsters who hurt him get what they deserve."

Carlisle nodded and followed Linda out of the doctors lounge and towards the emergency bay doors. However before Carlisle could get to the doors the doors slammed open from the other side. If Carlisle still had a heart beat it would have stopped at what lay before him.

There on a gurney lay a boy, even with all of his injuries it was clear he was beautiful even by vampire standards, with glossy black ringlets and smooth pale skin. If it wasn't for the injuries and heart beat Carlisle could have easily confused the boy for a vampire. But it wasn't the little boys appearance that startled the usually calm and collected Carlisle, it was the boys smell. The boy didn't smell human, he smelt of trees and grass, like the forest. He did not feel any desire for the child's blood. The part of Carlisle that had always wanted a child, wondered if maybe just maybe before him was an opportunity to have what he had craved for so long.