(A/N: This is just to show WHY Harry was kidnapped.)

Disclaimer: Nothing's changed since the first chapter. J.K. Rowling still owns the Harry Potter series.

Chapter 2: The Forest

Robert Montoya, the seventy-year- old chief of the longest line of companies in London, one of the richest men in the world, died on July 2nd. That day, hundreds of men were fired and replaced as his son, Damien Montoya, took over. One of these men, Jonathan Grey, was almost on the streets because of the new chief. His family was the only thing that could have forced him to resort to a loan. He had a nine year old son. His wife left him soon after he lost his job.

A year later, Jonathan Grey was regretting his decision more than he could have said. He walked with an INSAS rifle pointing at his back. He stumbled and fell to his knees as one of the armed men behind him shoved hard into his shoulder.

A man sat relaxed in front of him. "I'm s-sorry, I can't." Grey stuttered, unable to hide his fear. He knew what they had brought him there for.

"Can't?" the voice feigned ignorance.

"I can't pay you back. I've tried my best; I still can't get a job. Kill me, and have done with it."

"Oh, I won't kill you. You took my money, Grey. Killing you won't be much help to me at all. It certainly won't get me my money back."

"…"

"You have a son, don't you, Grey? Nine, now, isn't he? You know, that's the most desired age for slaves. Take them while they're young and they don't whine when they're older."

"No- no, please! Have mercy, he's only a child!"

"I want compensation, Grey. How do you suggest giving it to me?"

"Please, not him… I'll find you someone else! Another boy! Someone who won't be missed!"

"Very well. You have three days. And next time, your son will face worse than just slave trade."

And that was how a desperate man began his search on the streets of London.

His hands were tied tightly, and his legs were asleep. He realized there was a gag on his mouth. The sour-tasting rag dug into his cheeks. Unwillingly, the tears started. "What's going to happen to me? I don't want to die. Mom, Dad, are you there? I don't want to die yet. Help me. Please."

He thought he saw them, then. They were neither there, nor gone. He felt the soft caress of his mother's hand touch his cheek. He felt his dad ruffle his hair. There was a sudden flash of white light.

"Hey, the kid, he's gone!"

Harry woke up suddenly, a feeling of déjà vu creeping over him. He felt something slightly wet underneath him, and realized it was grass. He sat up, noticing he was not tied up anymore, but a searing pain in his head made him lie back down. "Ugh. How'd I get into a forest, of all things?" Oh, well. It was better than the kidnappers.

He inhaled deeply. He could smell flowers and hear the sound of water- a river, perhaps, or a stream? Harry's throat felt parched. Judging from the dew on the grass, it was early morning. He followed the sound of the water until he reached a small, but clear stream. He cupped his hands to drink from it, and began to explore.

He had only just started to feel like he was going around in circles when he saw a small clearing through the tall evergreens. A tiny cottage stood in the center. "Wow," Harry breathed. The light from the sun filtering through branches bathed the home in a pale green glow. Ivy and wild flowers grew all around its walls.

Of course, as any other eight year old would do, he went up and knocked on the door. It was slightly ajar. When no one answered, he peered in. One might have thought it was like the cottage from Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs, however, since Harry's old "family" hadn't been the type to read fairy tales to children, Harry did not think that the cottage bore any semblance to a fairy tale. He saw what looked like a man's form lying on a worn couch.

"Hello? Mister?" The man did not stir. Harry began to think something was wrong. The man's breathing was irregular, taken in sharp, uneven gasps. He walked in, barely noticing what he was doing. The man was wearing rags, just like himself. Harry shook him tentatively. No response. He felt the man's forehead. Years on the streets had taught him to take care of himself, and Harry knew the man had a fever.

"Why not?" he murmured to himself.

Remus Lupin awoke, and caught a whiff of an incredibly familiar scent, one that he couldn't quite place. He heard someone humming cheerily. "You're awake!" A child's voice. The humming came to a halt.

"What- who…?"

"… Sorry, it's just, you were practically dead- an-and the door was open, and I shouldn't have and if you want- I was just leaving, I'm sorry."

"Wait!" Remus cried as the small boy started sidling towards the door. The boy froze as though he had been hexed.

He sat up, ignoring the waves of dizziness which attacked him. "Will you come here?" He tried not to frighten the child, who looked as though he was steeling himself for punishment.

Harry did not know why terrible things always happened to him. He had always just thought that either he had done something to deserve it, or it was something which everyone must go through. This was partially why he was not braced for what happened next.

Remus's eyes widened as he saw the boy close up for the first time. Like a ghost, he stood, and before he knew it, embraced the young boy. Harry stiffened automatically.

"Oh, God, Harry, I knew you were alive, I knew it couldn't have been true. I searched and searched for months after they said you were dead, and I was ready to kill those wretched Dursleys. Dumbledore was no help at all, they thought I had gone mad, and I almost did. First Lily and James, then Peter, and Sirius was sent to Azkaban." Tears slid down the werewolf's face.

"How do you know who I am?" Harry asked quietly.

"I'm Remus, but of course you would not remember me- you were only a baby then. I knew your parents, Harry. Did you know you look just like your father? But you have your mother's eyes. How did you come here?" he held Harry at arms length by the shoulders to see him better.

Harry was mutinous. This man, whoever he was, seemed to be telling the truth. He decided to withhold his judgement of "Remus" until later. He changed the subject.

"You looked for me?" Harry grasped onto the few parts of the man's conversation he had understood, ignoring the question.

"Everywhere. Dumbledore didn't even notice you weren't at the Dursleys until weeks had passed, and the tracking charm he had apparently put on you had disappeared as well. The Order, not to mention the Ministry, was in an uproar- Harry Potter had vanished off the face of the planet, and Albus Dumbledore hadn't even realized it. Tonks came with me to the Dursleys to find any clue as to where you might have gone, and she agreed not to tell Dumbledore."

"You went to the Dursleys?"

"Harry, I swear, if I had known about the way they had been treating you, I would have--" for the first time, Harry saw something feral in the man's face.

"-Can I stay here with you then?" Harry interrupted anxiously.

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