Alice Knows Best

Thoughts in italics.

Billy Black watched the international news with no small measure of disgust. Not disgust at the boy being shown, disgust at the fact that the boy was being clearly stalked by reporters and no one was doing anything about it. This sixteen year old boy, the same age as Billy's own son Jacob, was shown working on some flower beds, walking to the store, and reading on the swings at a neighborhood park. This boy, Harry Potter, was clearly uncomfortable and had spent the last two weeks on the news fending off fans while trying to be a teenager. It bothered the father in Billy that the boy couldn't seem to catch a break.

Ring

Billy answered the phone absently, but immediately tensed when he realized who it was.

"Hello, Mr. Black, this is Alice Cullen. I've just had a vision of the boy that you're watching on the news."

"He needs a family, Jacob."

The teenage shape shifter sighed, rolling his eyes.

"Sure, sure, but why does it have to be us? Why are you listening to that bloodsucker anyway, Dad?"

"Because she knows how much he needs us, and she's pretty sure we need him, as well. She said he can help against the Volturi; his magic will be a great asset in the fight. Plus his Godfather was distantly related to us, and Alice says he can explain more about why the pack phases. She said something about your forms not actually being wolves."

That was clearly news to Jacob, but he wasn't quite willing to let the matter settle. In the end he had no choice-Billy played the 'my house, my rules' card, and Sam backed him up on it. The Elders were interested in what this teenager had to say about the pack's ability to phase, and Sam had gotten his own call from the tiny Vampire.

"Boy, get the door!"

Harry sighed inaudibly, and was careful not to roll his eyes until he was out of his Aunt's sight. They rarely hit him anymore, what with all of the reporters desperate for a video clip, but they weren't exactly kind to him either. The Dursley family had lost a lot of social standing in Little Whinging after the war, and this was one thing they really could blame on Harry Potter-it hadn't taken any time at all for the neighborhood to put two and two together and come up with Bigot. Drawing his mind back to the task at hand, Harry opened the door with a forced smile. Flashbulbs went off across the street, and the poor postal employee in front of him gave a sympathetic smile.

"I hate to say it, but I need a signature for this."

Harry nodded, signing the electronic pad the man handed him before accepting the letter. Reporters started surging across the street as the postman turned around; he spoke quickly as he took up a defensive stance.

"Shut the door and lock it!"

Doing as he was told, Harry shut the door and hurriedly slammed both locks home.

"Well boy, give me the letter!"

Annoyed beyond belief (Petunia was just eating up the press attention, after all), Harry snapped at the woman.

"This letter is to me. It's airmail from the States. I had to sign for it, and it has my name on it. Now are you going to keep demanding my mail, which is against the law, or are you going to act like a human being?"

Harry knew even as he spoke that he'd be paying for his fit of temper, and Uncle Vernon didn't disappoint. Luckily, he was able to read and hide his letter before the man got home.

The letter went on from there, telling Harry about the Black family and the reservation, as well as listing a telephone number. Harry was just hanging up the telephone with Prince Charles' personal aide, who promised to make both the telephone call and the travel arrangements, when uncle Vernon found him.