I finally finished this update, despite all of the fun and sightseeing we're doing in England (mainly London, although right now we're in Stratford-upon-Avon). It's longer than I thought it would be. Most chapters will probably be shorter, just to warn you.

I knew long before Harry told me what he wanted to do. And I knew that it was something all of us needed. So I began preparations and mentioned the idea to Kingsley, who had by then become Acting Minister. He was busy fixing the damage done to the Ministry, tracking down the Death Eaters and supporters, rescuing the Muggleborns from the camps, and reversing as many harmful and biased laws as was possible. It was, in a way, a revolution, and so I had no intention or inkling that Kingsley would help us as much as he did in our struggle for healing. Mainly, I didn't want him or the others to panic when we disappeared.

By the time Harry came to Ron and me with the idea, I was ready. I simply needed him to make more specific the list of characteristics we needed in a home. An English-speaking country was first on the list. Australia was out. The Outback was far too harsh, and the coastal towns too crowded. We wanted somewhere small and secluded, somewhere private. We didn't handle crowds well anymore, especially Harry. The climate in northern America and southern Canada resembled what we were used to, what we wanted. If we were struggling with adjusting and blending in, then when were we going to be able to concentrate on healing? Not to mention reporters or remaining Death Eaters might catch on.

A handful of houses for sale showed up within these parameters. I quickly eliminated those too small, too rundown, too close to magical communities or large Muggle cities. At last I was down to two possibilities, one in Forks and one in northern Maine. The house in Forks was slightly smaller, but it also had a basement that would be good for practicing potions and spells, was surrounded by trees making it that much difficult to access, had a low crime rate, and had absolutely no magical ties or influences closer than a town called Port Angeles. The large magical community in Seattle was close enough to Apparate to should we need anything. It was almost perfect.

Of course, I failed to take into account Harry's trouble-attracting abilities.

~Hermione Granger

Harry slept a dreamless sleep, waking to the patter of raindrops on the roof. He smiled, for once feeling hopeful as he poured himself cereal. Already, it seemed that Forks, or possibly the manual labor, was good for him. He couldn't remember the last time he had slept so long uninterrupted by nightmares.

He rinsed out his bowl and left it in the sink, deciding he'd wait until he dirtied more dishes before washing them, and picked up the phone. It had taken him quite a while to figure out how to hook it up, but it seemed to be working fine now. Retrieving a piece of parchment from his pocket, Harry carefully dialed the first number he had listed.

He waited patiently as a familiar voice mumbled audibly, "Now how did they say…?"

"Hello, Mrs. Weasley," he said, smiling to himself as he leaned against the counter. He and Hermione had spent quite some time familiarizing the entire Weasley family with how to work the telephone once Mr. Weasley had managed to make it work with all of the magic in the area. They had made sure to give them plenty of hands-on practice as well. Since they had decided against having a Floo, the telephone was much faster then sending letters by owl. Mrs. Weasley had been almost dead-set against them taking off on their own again, so soon after the war. This had been the best way they could think of to get her to relent, as she would not stand having little to no contact with them.

Plus, even though Andromeda was raising Teddy Lupin, Harry didn't want to cut himself off from his godson for too long.

"Harry dear," came the warm voice. "How are you? And I've told you to call me Molly."

"Sorry," he said. "And I'm fine. More relaxed than I've been in a long time, honestly, unless you count the frustration of trying to set up the telephone. And yourself?"

Mrs. Weasley chuckled a little sadly. "We've been making do. One day at a time, just like everyone else."

Harry tightened his grip on the phone, and did his best to sound casual. The conversation was fast going downhill. "How's George?"

There was an obvious hesitation. "He's thinking about moving back to the flat above the shop." Her voice shook almost unnoticeably. "We've gotten rid of what Firewhiskey we had. I think he's getting better." The Weasley matriarch tried to sound optimistic, but the truth of the matter was that none of them knew how to help George now that his twin was gone. He didn't want to be helped.

"That's good," Harry said lamely, wishing there was something he could do to make this better.

"But Ginny…"

Harry's stomach twisted itself into knots. "Is something wrong?" he asked, praying fervently that nothing was.

"She's spending so much time in her room lately," Mrs. Weasley said. "She's going out less and less. Now that there's nothing to distract her, I think what happened during the school year affected her worse than we suspected. She barely eats, and she's getting so pale and thin… Harry, I don't know if she'll be willing to return to Hogwarts so soon." Her voice broke, and Harry's heart cracked at the sound.

"Mrs.…Molly." He stopped, having no idea how to continue.

"Oh, I'm sorry dear," Molly said, making a valiant attempt to pull herself together. "I shouldn't be burdening you with this."

"I want to be burdened with this," Harry said suddenly and fiercely. "I mean…well, you're family," he mumbled, embarrassed.

"Oh Harry." She sounded choked with emotion.

There was silence on both ends as they composed themselves.

"Kingsley mentioned to Arthur the other day that the N.E.W.T. results would be ready soon. I'll just send them on to you three, shall I?" Molly said, changing the topic.

"Er, alright," Harry said. Although the N.E.W.T. tests had continued on as scheduled, the test dates had been delayed. In addition, because of the war and what had happened during the school year with Death Eaters in charge, all seventh years had the option of redoing the tests again in a year should they have scored poorly. The same had been offered to all fifth years who were to have taken their O.W.L.s. Hermione had been almost frantically studying and revising in the one month they had before the test dates, and she had forced Ron and Harry to do so as well. They had complained and dragged their feet, but really they had been glad of something to so thoroughly occupy their minds.

He would be willing to bet he and Ron would need to retake the tests, though. But with all of the time he expected to have on his hands here in Forks, he had plenty of time to catch up to where he ought to have been.

"Are Ron and Hermione there with you?" Mrs. Weasley asked hopefully.

"Not yet. They're still in Australia looking for 'Mione's parents."

"Oh, I do hope they're all right," she said fretfully.

"I'm sure they're fine," Harry said confidently. "Australia's a pretty safe place." Or so Hermione had told him when he expressed his own concern.

They conversed for a few more minutes before he let her get back to preparing dinner.

Harry called Andromeda next, but Teddy was being fussy, and despite his godson's initial happy babble at hearing Harry's voice, he quickly began howling. The frazzled grandmother was forced to cut their chat short.

Grocery shopping next, Harry decided and glanced at the large living room window. He grabbed his rain jacket and quickly stepped outside. It was raining, as per usual, but it was a light rain. More of a drizzle, really, and his water repelling charms took care of it easily.

Harry's shoes, however, were another matter entirely. Handed down to him when Dudley had grown out of them, they were worn through and filthy. Not even magic could keep his socks from becoming soaked as he trudged through mud and puddles.

Harry mentally added a good, sturdy pair of boots to his mental list. He briefly considered simply Apparating into town, and decided against it. It wasn't as though that walk was particularly long, less than an hour certainly. And didn't he have all the time in the world now? A walk through the green landscape would be relaxing. And green was a good color, a color for living and growing. Not Slytherin green – that just brought back bad memories – but forest green.

He went over his list in his head once again – running low on bread and milk, forgot the salt and baking soda last time – and suppressed a grin. It was so normal, wasn't it? Just a shopping list, preparing for baking and cooking. This was what Harry wanted. Normal.

Almost as soon as he thought this, a police car pulled up next to him on the road. Oh shit, he thought. What am I accused of this time? Harry had never had many good experiences with authority figures. Having been on the run from Death Eaters and corrupt Aurors had made him especially wary.

A man in a police uniform exited the car, a rough sort of small towner with dark eyes and short brown hair and mustache. "I haven't seen you around here, son. Can I help you?"

Harry smiled, doing his best to hide his uneasiness. "I'm Harry Potter," he said, holding out his hand to be shaken and breathing a silent sigh of relief when no recognition of the name occurred. "My friends and I just moved into that house in the woods back that way," he gestured. "Well, actually, it's just me for the moment, my friends are getting things taken care of back home, I just came ahead to get the house ready." He realized that he was rambling, and stopped talking.

The man's face cleared. "Ah," he said in recognition. "Yeah, I've heard of you around town. I'm Charlie Swan, the police chief of Forks."

"Nice to meet you," Harry said, relaxing slightly when no hostility seemed to be forthcoming.

The man nodded. "You too. If you need anything, or have any questions, feel free to come down to the station and ask."

"Sure," Harry said. He doubted he would, but it was a nice offer.

"You heading to town?"

Harry nodded.

"Can I give you a lift?"

Harry gave him a genuine smile. "Thank you for the offer, but I don't mind walking. It's not a bad day, and I could use the time to unwind."

Chief Swan nodded. "Well, welcome to Forks Mr. Potter. Hope you enjoy your time here."

Harry watched him drive off. His first pleasant encounter with a policeman. He thought he really was going to like it here.

The grocery store wasn't at all crowded, and hadn't been last time either. It was a relief to Harry. He'd tried shopping in Muggle London once after the war, and his nerves had been shot from trying not to pull his wand when every time someone bumped into him he expected an attack.

He was just looking for baking ingredients when he saw the girl. She was perched precariously on a stool, struggling to reach something on the top shelf placed near the back. Keeping an eye on the brunette as he made his way closer, Harry immediately noticed when she shifted her weight to far to one side.

"Look out!" he shouted, diving to keep her from toppling to the ground. He was too late to stop her, but not too late to cushion her fall. His head cracked against a shelf on the way down, and he lay beneath the girl, both of them stunned. In a moment the pain registered, and he moaned as his head throbbed in agony.

Almost immediately she began babbling apologies as shoppers and an employee crowded around them. "I'm so sorry!" she cried, visibly distressed. "Are you okay? I'm so clumsy, I knew I should have asked someone for help! Oh God, I'm sorry. My boyfriend's dad is a doctor. I'll call him right now, just hold on. Sorry!"

Harry registered in a corner of his mind that she was speaking on a cell phone to someone – the doctor? – but he was trying to keep conscious at the moment, and it was taking a lot of concentration.

"I'm fine," he said fuzzily, becoming embarrassed as he realized the crowd they had drawn. "I've had worse, don't worry about it. I'll just…" He made as if to get up, and was almost immediately pushed back down.

"Don't get up yet, I might have really hurt you," the girl said worriedly. "Carlisle – Dr. Cullen – will be here soon to check you out." She paled suddenly and held a hand over her nose and mouth. "I think you're bleeding." Her voice was muffled, and she looked as though she were about to be sick.

"You okay?" Harry asked, worried.

The girl nodded unconvincingly.

Harry resigned himself to a headache and unnecessarily worried onlookers. He'd died recently and been tortured several times, this was hardly anything. Not that anyone here knew that. The ceiling tiles were vastly uninteresting, and the crowd had been ordered to disperse by the manager. He turned his attention back to the person he had rescued, curse his saving people thing. "Who are you?" Harry asked, before realizing that he could have chosen a less rude way to phrase it.

"Oh." The blush that had just begun to fade abruptly deepened when she realized she had forgotten to introduce herself. "Um, I'm Bella Swan."

"Harry Potter," he replied absently, brow furrowed as he struggled to remember why her name sounded familiar, absently noticing that she seemed to be concentrating on breathing through her mouth. Did blood really bother her that much? He could feel it now, through his thick, untamable hair. But head wounds tended to bleed a lot, he didn't think it was a bad cut. It was the headache that bothered him. "Police Chief Swan?" he asked, recalling his earlier encounter.

"He's my dad," she said.

They sat in awkward silence for a while.

"Are you sure you're okay?" Bella asked tentatively, her expression guilty.

"I'm sure," Harry said reassuringly. "It feels like it's just a headache. A very minor concussion at worst."

"And you've been hurt often enough to be able to tell this?" a concerned, melodious voice inquired.

Harry wasn't sure how to respond, so remained silent.

"Hello Carlisle," Bell said, looking beyond Harry. Her face brightened as she saw a second figure behind the doctor and flew toward him. "Edward! What are you doing here?"

"I overheard your phone call, and was worried you were the one that had been injured," came the reply.

"And isn't this just typical. Not even a week here, and already I require the services of a doctor," Harry muttered to himself, closing his eyes briefly at the injustice of it all. Hermione and Ron would never let him hear the end of it.

"Mr. Potter?" the first unfamiliar voice said.

"Yes?" He opened his eyes and was faced with the doctor. Young. Pale, unblemished skin, dark circles under eyes, inhuman beauty, the way his magic whispered that this was a creature. Golden eyes?

"I'm Dr. Carlisle Cullen," the other man said.

Not for nothing had Harry been the best in his class at DADA. It took him a moment, but he recognized the signs, although the eye color confused him. Vampire.

His heart skipped a beat in blank shock before steadying, and his vision became crystal clear, his mind working furiously as he found himself in yet another life or death situation. He didn't dare provoke the vampire by reaching for his wand. He was far too close, Harry would never finish drawing before the other was on him, and then all of those in the store would be killed as well for bearing witness. It never occurred to him to make any indication that he recognized the vampire for what he was. That would only encourage an attack. While he could catch the other off guard, he and any witnesses had a slim chance of coming out of this alive.

Oh shit, wasn't this just his luck.

In general, the average wizard could overcome vampires as long as they had prepared defensive spells ahead of time. Which they only did in an area known to be frequented by vampires. But all of the spells in the world wouldn't help when you were so outclassed by their speed. Not only was it difficult to land a spell on them, if they knew you were a wizard they could kill before you ever brought a wand to bear.

Then what Bella had said earlier caught up with Harry, as well as the significance of the eye color. It was documented that some vampires, who preferred to participate in wizarding society no matter how prejudiced, could be sustained by the blood of magical creatures. Something about the magic in the animal blood did much to suppress the constant thirst, or so the textbooks said. Their eyes were a brilliant orange, easily distinguished from the scarlet of those who preyed on humans. Harry furrowed his brow, noting and ignoring the way the vampire in the doctor's coat watched him worriedly as he got out his medical bag. Gold eyes would be…ordinary animals, maybe? It was all he could think of.

Well, Harry thought. If his hypothesis was correct, that was all right then.

"Have you been a doctor long?" Harry asked the blonde, Dr. Cullen as Bella had called him.

"Sometimes it feels like ages," Carlisle replied with smile, as though at an inside joke, as he prodded the back of Harry's head. "Can you follow my pen light please?" he requested, moving it from side to side and then up and down.

An older vampire, then, Harry concluded as he restrained a wince at the bright light. Well, he would have to be, to have such good control around humans after living off of regular animals.

Wait. Hadn't Bella said one of them was her boyfriend? He jerked his head to get a clear view of the couple, regretting the movement immediately. He met the eyes of the bronze-haired vampire, and forced himself not to react when he felt a light probe skitter across his Occlumency shields. He might not have even noticed it normally, but with the way his head throbbed, the probe noticeably exacerbated his condition.

The hell? A mind-reader? And being together with a human? Bella had to know what the vampire was, and Harry could only admire her bravery. She definitely wasn't a witch. Perhaps the only good thing about being so famous, was that he could definitely tell who was magical by how they reacted to hearing his name. That is, if their sense of Muggle fashion didn't give it away.

"I'm Harry Potter," he said in an open-ended sort of introduction to whichever of the Cullens wanted to pay attention before Dr. Cullen berated him for moving his head like that. And oh Merlin, how many were in the coven? At least they seemed unaware of recent events in the Wizarding World. Did they even know about magic? Hard to say, and mindboggling to contemplate if they didn't.

"Edward Cullen," Bella's boyfriend said, watching him with a look that was equal parts frustrated and confused. Obviously, he was not used to his mind-reading being thwarted. Well, Harry had absolutely no intention of enlightening him or letting him into his mind. He had gone to great lengths to make sure his thoughts were private, thank-you-very-much.

Eventually Carlisle let him go with the instructions to take aspirin as soon as he could. "Thank you for trying to protect Bella from herself," he added warmly, a touch of amusement in his eyes. "She is very precious to us. I what it's like to be new to town, so if you have any questions or need any help, please don't hesitate to contact me."

There was something about the blonde doctor that Harry liked, that made him feel at ease. That could be dangerous.

"Yes," Edward spoke up, breaking his frustrated silence. "Thank you for catching Bella."

Harry nodded. An open-ended offer of help from the chief of police and a vampire doctor in one day. That was just his luck. He thanked Carlisle for his care, and reassured Bella she certainly had no need to apologize, before turning to leave. If all went well, he wouldn't need to interact with the vampires any more than he interacted with the average person in town. He would make absolutely no indication that he knew what the Cullens were, and would make sure his friends followed his example. He was fairly sure the vampires wanted exactly what he and his friends did: to be left alone.

He would have to warn Ron and Hermione. And maybe Hermione would know the spells to protect against vampires, just in case and to make it easier on the coven. Harry had been far more preoccupied with spells for Death Eaters and Voldemort than those for vampires. Especially since vampires were so rare in the UK, while Voldemort was targeting him specifically and making an effort to recruit werewolves. Vampires and werewolves being mortal enemies, the Dark Lord had needed to decide on one race or the other to ally with.

The mind-reader was going to be difficult, though. Hermione was strong enough to keep such a weak probe from her more important memories, such as of magic and the war, but Ron was an open book. However, if there was a spell for it somewhere, Harry knew that Hermione would be able to find it.