Harry Potter and the Heart of Twilight

I don't own Twilight or Harry Potter

Beta by Slythenclaw20

Harry had been only 15 months old when his parents passed away in a car accident. He had been the only survivor and was left was with a thin lightning bolt shaped scar marring his forehead. He was abandoned outside of his only family left: his maternal Aunt, her husband and, her son.

The next morning, when his Aunt opened the door and looked down, she let out an amazing screech that woke little Harry up. Knowing that her nosy neighbors would come to investigate the loud screech, she scooped up her nephew and marched back inside where she dumped the child in a cardboard box that had once held some toy that her precious babykins just had to have.

His uncle came to see what had happened and they agreed to take in Harry out of the goodness of their hearts. Or at least that's what they told Harry.

He never believed the tripe that they fed him. How much goodness was in their hearts when they started him doing all the chores, or when he could not complete them and had to suffer his Aunt's cruel words and actions and his Uncle's heavy handed punishments? How was it that Dudley could do no wrong and yet Harry did everything wrong? He tried so hard, what made him so different? So he grew up in a very hateful environment, receiving just enough to survive but never enough to thrive.

What made Harry finally realize was that he was different than his family was that he could do things, things that his family could not do: heal himself, move things, change things, and he even one day made himself disappear. He chalked them up to his family being right; that he was a freak. That is, until he was eight, and he found that maybe what he could do was magic.

The day he figured out that he was not freakish and that maybe his family was wrong was the day he started to train himself. He thought of new ways to use his powers using both metal and physical ways to help him improve. He did this all of course in secret. He knew the thrashing he would get from his Uncle.

One day after his ninth birthday, his Uncle was given a transfer to Paris, France. So the whole family packed up and left. Understandably, no one missed them at all on Privet Drive. Aunt Petunia was seen as a boorish snob by most of the ladies in their neighborhood, or more of a boorish snob than the other ladies at least.

Harry had to admit that when they had moved it was funny watching as his family tried to speak French. Especially since Uncle Vernon did not understand why they could not speak English like the majority of the world. So when his Uncle, a couple of years later, near his eleventh birthday, announced that they would be leaving again, this time to Germany, it came as no real surprise to Harry. Though Harry was now completely fluent in French and his cousin Dudley could order off of any menu fluently in French.

In between moving to new cities, Harry missed his letter to attend Hogwarts. Because one, he was no longer in England, and two, his name was written in the books as attending Hogwarts so none of the other magical schools knew that they could take him as a student. Dumbledore, in all his wisdom, never had anyone check up on Harry and the tracking charms he put on Harry could only go so far. When he did come out of his tower and visited Privet Drive, no one could give him any information on Harry. Because they never remembered Harry. Harry was, after all, so used to being blamed for everything that he kept a low profile. Besides, it was not like the Dursley's would admit to being related to Harry.

The Dursley's and Harry moved to Germany, but Aunt Petunia got tired of it after three years so they moved again. That was Harry's fourteenth birthday year. They moved to Canada. While they were there, Harry did a lot of little part time jobs to save money. He knew that his Uncle would kick him out in four years so he did his best to try to save as much money as he could make.

By this time the abuse that had been heaped on him began to slow down. He was still treated like a leper by his family, but at least he did not have to hide so many injuries. It sucked, though, that just when he had found a decent part time job, his Aunt complained that she disliked the winters here, that there was too much snow and it was too cold, and could Vernon please move somewhere that was less cold and snowy, as well as somewhere smaller, like a township, as she had tired of the big city.

So they moved again. This time his Uncle's office was in a new factory that had just finished being built and the board of directors was more than happy to scoop up Uncle Vernon.

They even gave him money to buy a new home. Aunt Petunia decided that if his office was in Seattle, then he could commute back and forth to their new home, which was an hour away. When he asked why he should commute an hour a day each way, Aunt Petunia burned him a look that was normally reserved for Harry, and said she had already found a house that she loved and was not giving it up. So Uncle Vernon looked for a car with good gas mileage and grumbled for good measure.

And while Harry was cleaning the computer room, he came across the name of the town they would be staying at. At least, that is, until Aunt Petunia got sick of the place. He had to snort at the name. Who would name a town after a utensil? Forks. What an odd sounding place. How little did Harry realize that Forks had some very odd quirks to its name.