08/02/2003
Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling is the author of Harry Potter; Hayao Miyazaki is the creator of Spirited Away; Woo Hyuk Lee is the author of Demon Exorcist Chronicles. I am just borrowing (respectively) their characters, imagery, and concepts for my own amusement. No money is being made and no copyright infringement is intended.
Note: Major OotP spoilers. Please read Book 5 first.
A Black Wind
By Punisher
---Confusions---
From the east, a pale sun rose above the tree tops and shimmered dimly beneath
a blanket of grey clouds. The grass and leaves, parched and yellowed after a
two year long draught, ruffled in anticipation as a cool wet breeze passed by.
From a distance, low rumble of thunder echoed through the slumbering forest.
It was too dark for any living thing to be out, and with a storm coming, most
of them were seeking solace in their dreams.
One man, however, was wide awake and moving.
Remus cast a quick look at the window before he strode over to his wardrobe. He pulled out some relatively passable muggle clothes, shrunk them, and carried them to the table where he placed his battered briefcase. The said briefcase was full to brim with various shrunken items—items of value and memory. He'd been packing since he'd apparated to his ramshackle cottage, and now his old home was almost empty except for an occasional piece of furniture here and there.
He had to hurry. He had to carry out the plan before daylight brought more excuses. He just knew he would never carry out his resolution if he thought about it any deeper in a 'rational' mindset. Besides, it was high time he acted out his heart, and he didn't want to ruin this one chance.
He was rearranging his shrunken items to accommodate his clothing when a gray barn owl came swooping through an open window. It dropped the latest edition of the Daily Prophet at his feet and took off. He stopped, stooped down to pick it up, and unrolled the newspaper. The headline splashed into his eyes:
INTRODUCES NEW DARK CREATURES RELOCATION BILL
Remus felt his upper lip twisting into something between a snarl and a grim
smile. It was about time he read something like this in the Prophet.
There was no need for him to read any further from that point, but he read the
article anyway. The Department of Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures
introduced a new bill that would relocate all dark creatures and part humans
known to have had past association with He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Name … full Ministry
support expected … results predicted to be beneficial … etc, etc, etc…
He crumpled the paper in his fists and threw it on the table. Why did he read it at all? Now he knew Dumbledore would try to do something about this ridiculous legislation proposal and ask him to carry out an important mission or another. The temptation to drop his (insane! wrong! jeered a little voice) plan was growing rapidly. But he must not give in. He must not give in. He must not give in. Savagely, between clenched teeth, Remus threw in the last of his clothing into the briefcase, not bothering with the order anymore.
At long last, he placed his hands on the lid, ready to slam it shut.
There was flash of fire and a Phoenix appeared right before him.
For a moment, Remus swore his heart had stopped beating. "Fawkes…" he whispered, his hands silently slipping off the lid.
Fawkes let out a quivering note. Remus couldn't decide whether he felt encouraged or as though he had been soundly reprimanded after hearing it. Did they not say a Phoenix song gave hope to the righteous and despair to the evil? Why then, did he feel so confused and befuddled? His eyes strayed to the crumpled and soggy newspaper on his sea-wreckage of a table. The headline glared right back. Then he heard Fawkes let out a—was that a note of inquiry?
Remus turned his eyes back to the gold and scarlet bird. It peered into his eyes beadily. He's looking into my mind, Remus realized before felt himself drowning into the pair of black pools; his thoughts, emotions, and memories bubbling up from a fountain that was his mind and trickling into them.
How long they had been staring at each other, he did not know. But when Fawkes released him from his stare, the Phoenix lifted his head and let out a stream of chirps. Then he bobbed his head up and down, ruffling his feathers. Remus gapped at him.
"Are you encouraging me?"
Fawkes let out another scale of unearthly notes and flapped his wings. Remus scratched his head, still befuddled.
"I'll take that as a yes."
Remus closed his briefcase with a soft click. Then he cancelled out the magical wards around his old cottage. He didn't need them—for a long time, he expected—and there was no need to drain his or Dumbledore's energy unnecessarily. The old building trembled as the magic imbued into its walls returned to their owners. Remus let out a sigh as he felt a gentle current of magic creep back into his veins.
That done, Remus strode towards his front door. Before he opened it, he turned back and surveyed his house again. It was quite dark except for the spot where Fawkes occupied. Illuminating even more brightly, the Phoenix let out another quivering note.
"Right," said Remus, nodding. "I'd better get going."
He opened the door, and stepped into the rain. He unhesitatingly walked towards the large Willow tree planted in front of his old home … and vanished.
---oo00oo---
Moments later Remus appeared next to a large oak tree planted behind Arabella Figg's house. Taking his right foot out of the large puddle it had landed on (and surreptitiously wiping some of the mud on Mrs. Figg's wall), Remus made a quick survey of his surroundings. All of the houses in his immediate area had their windows closed and shudders drawn. No one was out either, as massive raindrops were pounding the roads and pavements mercilessly. Relieved at the fact there was no need to put memory charms on unsuspecting muggles, Remus stepped out of his hiding place, and walked towards number four.
Now he was standing in front of the front door. His nerves tingled unpleasantly. Why did a simple Muggle door look so ominous? A distinct part of mind was telling him he should ring the door bell. The problem was, his heart was racing, his mind was reeling, and his hands were shaking so badly his briefcase was falling between his fingers.
Ring it! Ring it, you fool! It's just a bell! the ever-Gryffindor part of his mind snapped. For God sake, do you care about Harry or not?!
Are you insane?! the irrational and cowardy counterpart screeched. You're about to give up MAGIC and live like a Muggle, for crying out loud! Run! Run when you still can!
Remus swallowed with some difficulty. How is it that he could face supposed mass-murderers, negotiate treaties with vindictive vampires and fight a small army of Death Eaters, but not be able ring a Muggle door bell? It ridiculous—Sirius would have had been rolling on the floor laughing if he heard about it. Acutely aware of the adrenaline flooding his veins, Remus pressed the button.
He was greeted with a loud shriek a few seconds after the door opened. Taken aback, Remus peered through the half-opened door and saw Petunia Dursley cowering before him. This turned Remus from shocked to bewildered: Though he had seen many people shriek in terror when they learned he was a werewolf, anyone who was ignorant of this fact did not find him intimidating even in the remotest sense. But Petunia did not know he was a werewolf (at least he thought not) and, with his clothes and hair completely drenched and right leg depressingly muddy up to his knee, he probably looked pathetic not frightening…
Remus' bewildered thoughts came to a grinding halt when Petunia let out another let out another ear splitting screech, even longer and louder than the first. Had it not been for the particularly loud clap of thunder crashing down on the exact same moment, people would have heard her from three streets away. The last thought reminded Remus why he was there, so he took a step towards her to give her some reassurances.
Unfortunately, Petunia turned from hysterical to utterly panic-stricken by that one step. She shrieked again, then turned and ran as fast as her legs could carry her, up the stairs and into a bedroom, still screaming. The door slammed and Remus heard what sounded like a large piece of furniture being dragged in front of it.
For a while, Remus continued to stand at the threshold, blinking stupidly. Then he stepped into the house, shutting the front door behind him.
It was surprisingly dark inside, with only a few candles lightened up on the kitchen table and on top of a big black … thing in the living room. As far as he could tell, the house did not change a jolt since he visited it last year. Now that he entered the house, and was spared from the awful necessity of dealing with the Dursleys for the moment, Remus found himself calming slightly. You can deal with them later—check on Harry.
Remus climbed up the stairs, each step squeaking noisily beneath him. Once he reached the top, he peered into the first room to his right (which was slightly ajar) and was treated with the not-so-pretty sight of Harry's bloated muggle cousin sleeping sprawled spread-eagle on his bed without a shirt. The sheer horror Remus felt from the sight halted his coherent thought processes for a full second while his survival instincts took over and closed the door before his eyes started to bleed.
When he sufficiently recovered from his mental paralysis, Remus warily peeked into the next open bedroom door. Fortunately, there was no one in the room, and judging from the sparse furnishing and unnatural cleanliness, it must have been the guest room. That left him with only two more rooms to check.
Remus knocked the last door in the far corner in the hallway. He got no answer. He knocked it again. Silence.
"Harry?" he tried, pressing his ear against the door.
He heard some incoherent mumbling. Then silence again.
Agitation growing exponentially, Remus tried to open the door. It was locked. He reached out his wand by instinct, but stopped his hand before it could touch the handle. No magic, he reminded himself. No magic. He looked at the doorknob more closely and noticed the small key dangling from a length of string. He pushed the key into the keyhole and turned. The lock clicked and the door creaked open.
It was pitch-dark inside. Where are the windows? Remus wondered and as he took a step forward, kicking over something that sounded like a tin can. It noisily rolled to the other side of the room before it hit something immobile.
"Harry?" he called out.
He heard something move from the other corner of the room. He walked towards it. The faint smell of stale vomit reached his nostrils. When he got closer, he saw the vague outline of someone sitting on an object that appeared to be a bed.
"Harry," he repeated, reaching out.
"G'way," a voice muttered hoarsely.
"Harry—it's me," Remus hesitated. "It's … Remus Lupin."
He got no reply. Unable to take the darkness and silence anymore, Remus pulled out his wand.
"Lumos."
The end of his wand glowed. A pale hand rose up to block the light. Then it lowered.
Remus felt his breath stick in his throat.
"Harry?" he whispered, backing away.
A pair of wide and empty green eyes stared at him without really looking. Between those two eyes, a dark river of blood was flowing down from a gapping wound on Harry's forehead. Afraid to look, Remus shifted his glance to the pair of hands on the bed. There was a bloodied razor in one hand and a … a … a … oh god, what was that thing?!
The last thing Remus remembered doing in the room was knocking the knife out of Harry's un-protesting hand and snatching him out of the bed.
---oo00oo---
When Remus came back to himself, he was settling Harry on a sofa with his arm still wrapped around Harry's bony shoulders. Harry's forehead was bleeding like mad. Then he noticed a suspicious looking dark stain down the Harry's T-shirt. Damn! He couldn't see … it was too dark … He pointed his still glowing wand end at Harry.
Then he stared. Harry looked like hell. He had lost weight; his face pinched and drawn. He was clearly dehydrated, although he was sweating profusely. His face was white with two blazing red patches on his cheeks. His eyes were sunken and shiny with fever, and he was shaking. Worst of all, there were several gashes and spots on his forehead that looked as if it was skinned or flayed.
With a shaking hand Remus pulled out a sodden handkerchief and wiped the blood on Harry's nose. Next second, there was a resounding bellow followed by a sharp crack that sounded horribly like someone apparating with too much power. He turned around. A very purple faced Vernon Dursley was standing by the foyer, holding a long shiny metal object that was smoking in the end. Petunia was crouching behind him, apparently scared witless.
"You! Get out of my house this instant!" Dursley roared, waving the long metal thing menacingly. "Get out or I shoot!"
Remus just stared. "We need a Healer," he said, voice quivering. "Harry's hurt. We have to get a healer."
"I said: get out of my house!" shouted Dursley, veins throbbing.
"We need a healer here!" Remus shouted right back. Merlin, can't they see all this blood?! "Call a healer!"
"GET OUT!!" howled Dursley, eyes glinting madly.
"If you can just—!"
"GET—OUT!!"
There was another ear-splitting boom. Remus felt something sharp and hot glaze his right cheek. The metal thing Dursley was holding was smoking again. Remus took a quick look back. There were two black holes on the wall, and a great deal of masonry debris and burnt plaster scattered around the otherwise impeccable floor. Shaken and getting a very good idea to what the long metal thing was, Remus canceled out the Lumos spell and pointed his wand at Dursley.
"Don't make me hurt you," he whispered, fixing his aim on Dursley's heart.
"HA! We'll see about that!" Dursley— the swine— roared. He raised the metal thing again.
"Put that thing down," Remus hissed.
The metal thing exploded. Remus ducked just in time to cover Harry from the rain of broken glass from a shattered lamp hanging on the ceiling. He felt some of them sticking into his head, but it didn't hurt. Peering up, Remus lifted his wand again.
"Expell—" wait. He heard if a muggle threatened a wizard with those strange metal things, they shouldn't use the summoning charm or disarming curse. "Wingardium Leviosa!"
The metal thing shot out of Dursley's hand and hovered around the ceiling. Dursley let out a bellow of rage and frustration. He jumped up and down, waving his fat hands above his head as he tried to reach his weapon. After shaking the house several times, he rounded up on Remus.
"You!" he screamed. "I don't know what makes you scum of the earth wizards think you rule the world, but— I'm— not— taking— more— crap— from— you— any— longer!"
"Listen—" Remus began.
"You left us with that—that monster without much of a by-your-way, and made us raise that piece of filth! And what do we get?! OWLS! Exploding Fireplaces! Tongue lengthening candies! Neighbors talking!! And my family—attacked!!"
"Can you please listen—"
"I had enough! I'll get rid of the bloody lot of you if that's the last thing I—!"
CLUNK!
The long metal thing fell on Dursley's head when the levitation charm wore out. Dursley collapsed to the floor, creating a minor earthquake.
"Vernon!" Petunia shrieked. She immediately kneeled next to her husband, noisily fussing over him.
Remus drew in a deep breath. "Please, listen to me!" Petunia looked up and opened her mouth furiously, fingers pointing, but he beat her at it. "We have two injured people. If you just call a healer, everything will be—"
He was cut short by what sounded like a quickly approaching alarm. Petunia shrieked in dismay. Through the windows, Remus saw many cars and white vans with flickering red lights on their roofs screeching to a halt in front of number four. Muggles wearing dark uniforms piled out of the cars.
A few seconds later, someone hammered the door.
"Police! Open the door!"
Petunia shrieked again. After a brief pause, the door was kicked opened and six tall and burly muggles (please-men, Remus speculated) stormed into house brandishing smaller and shorter versions of the long metal thing Dursley threatened him with. They took one look at Dursley's prone and massive figure on the floor, the long metal thing laying next to his head, Petunia, who was shrieking incoherently, at Remus and Harry, the latter whose forehead was still bleeding profusely, the two dark holes in the wall behind of Remus, the shattered lamp on the ceiling, and hollered for the muggles outside of the house.
"Don't worry sirs, ma'am, the paramedics will come in just a minute!" said a man who looked like a leader of sorts. He held his metal thing up like Auror on guard and turned to other muggles in uniform. "Johnson, Flint, and Hesse! I want you to search this area for anyone suspicious. Pascoe and Queen! You two stay here and guard this lot until they're taken to the hospital."
Johnson, Flint and Hesse swiftly left the room with the leader. Seconds later, muggles wearing jumpsuits filed in.
"This one's suffering a concussion," said a man kneeling next to Dursley, "and a heart attack; his pulse is erratic. You better get a stretcher over here."
"You've got glass in your scalp, luv, and a cut on your cheek," said a woman. Remus instinctively raised his hand. "Don't touch! Here, let me take care of them."
She pushed Remus into an armchair and pulled out a pair of tweezers from a box. While the woman was disinfecting his cut on the right cheek, she completely blocked his view with her body.
Someone made an appalled noise.
"Jesus Christ! He looks like someone tried to do him with a razor!"
"Shut up, Sean! Not in front of the kid!"
"Well he's out cold anyway, so why…"
"I told you to shut up! Now make yourself useful and get the stretcher team."
"Fine, fine…"
Remus tried to get around the woman in front of him.
"Stay still! I'm almost done!"
"Harry— is he— I have to see him!" Remus said, shifting to his right. He caught the sight of Harry's left hand. It wasn't moving.
The woman grabbed him by the shoulders and looked straight into his eyes. "He's going to be fine. We'll take care of him."
"I have to stay with him!" said Remus desperately. "I have to—"
"All right!" said the woman. "Just let me take care of the glass, and then I'll let you ride the same ambulance with him, deal?"
Remus let out a defeated sigh and fell into his chair. "Good," said the woman. She went back to her business.
Ten minutes later Remus found himself with a sedated Harry and the woman who took out the glass in his scalp ("please call me Jessie") in the same ambulance. He could hear the muggle emergency vehicle racing through the rainy streets, ringing its alarm loudly.
"He's going to fine," said Jessie, putting a comforting arm on his shoulder. "Don't worry."
Remus nodded mechanically. His eyes did not leave Harry's face. Harry appeared to be sleeping fretfully, even though he was sedated; his eyes clenched shut and face contorted with pain. Were nightmares haunting him? Was Voldemort tormenting him with the accursed link?
The van finally pulled over at a Muggle hospital, and the Muggle healers rolled Harry's stretcher to the building with Remus hot in their heels. Inside, an orderly detained him in the waiting room while Harry was rolled into the emergency room. He waited there, and when the sheer exhaustion from the morning's fiasco drifted him off to sleep, one thought bubbled up to his mind:
What have I gotten myself into…?
---oo00oo---
Several undetermined hours later, someone shook Remus up from his light dose. He looked up. A tall black Muggle wearing a dark wet overcoat and a pale looking Muggle wearing a strange bluish jumpsuit and hairnet were standing in front of him. He quickly got to his feet.
"There is no need to worry," said the jumpsuit Muggle, raising both of her palms. "No one is in immediate danger of dying and everyone will make a complete recovery."
Remus let out a breath he didn't know he was holding.
"I'm Dr. Fabienne Bastian," said Dr. Bastian, holding out her hand. They shook hands. "And this is Detective Brown from the Surrey Police." He shook hands with Detective Brown. "Mr. Brown here has some question regarding the … incident at number four. So please take and seat, Mr.—?"
"Lupin, Remus Lupin," said Remus.
He sat down. Detective Brown sat on a chair in front Remus, and Dr. Bastian sat next to him.
"First, I must assure you that you are not a suspect of this case, Mr. Lupin," said Detective Brown formerly. "I just need some information about all the individuals involved. As you are the only one in fit state for questioning at this point, I chose to talk with you first."
Remus nodded his head in understanding.
"What is your connection with the Dursley family?" asked Detective Brown, pen poised above a chart.
"I'm a former professor in Mr. Harry Potter's—Mrs. Dursley's nephew—school," Remus replied. "I was visiting him and—"
"You've been a faculty of St. Brutus' Secure Center?!" interrupted Dr. Bastian, staring.
Remus stared back. "Saint—what?" he said, bewildered. "No. Harry goes to a boarding school up in Scotland." He struggled to remember the Muggle name for Hogwarts. "—Hestworth Academy is its name. I taught there two years ago."
"I know that school," said Detective Brown, clearly intrigued. "I have a nephew attending there. Dean is his name. Do you know him?"
"Ah, you are Mr. Thomas' uncle?" said Remus, managing a pleasant smile. "Yes, I remember your nephew. A bright student, I recall, and very artistic. It was pleasure for me to teach him."
Detective Brown nodded with deep satisfaction. Dr. Bastian, however, narrowed her eyes with a look of introspective suspicion. Remus stole an uneasy glance at her before turning his attention back to Detective Brown.
"Why were you visiting Mr. Potter?"
"Uhm…" Remus fumbled a bit. How much should he tell him? Would it be safe to tell him the truth? His reasons for visiting Harry had little to do with the incident, as his arrival itself caused the entire fiasco, so—
"I got some letters from one of Harry's friends," Remus explained. "Harry's… godfather died about three weeks ago—" Dr. Bastian winced— "and Harry had left at the end of school term extremely distraught. His friends were worried that Harry might do something … well, you know," Brown nodded. "So they asked me for help."
"I see," said Brown somberly. "But why did they contact you when you were no longer a faculty of the school?"
"I still keep contact with my past students, Mr. Potter and his friends in particular," explained Remus. "Their parents and I are acquaintances. And Mr. Potter—his father and I were friends."
"Hmm," muttered Brown. "Did you keep close contact with Mr. Potter since he became an orphan?"
Remus winced. "No." He looked away. "I had— and still have— chronic health problems. When I got the job at Hestworth, I thought everything was, as far as my health was concerned, under control. I befriended young Mr. Potter that year—" several years too late— "But by the end of the term, my health problems worsened to the point where I could no longer teach, so I resigned."
"… I see," said Mr. Brown, his professional mask slipping long enough to give him a look a deep sympathy. "So you were checking on Mr. Potter. Can you tell me what happened during the visit?"
"Well— it was—" Remus floundered. "I'm sorry; everything is … a bit of a blur." He looked at the Detective apologetically.
Brown nodded in understanding. "Just take your time and start from the beginning."
Remus ducked his head and pinched the spot between his eyebrows. As much as he liked to see the Dursleys knee deep in trouble with the Muggle Law Enforcement, Harry's relatives— Petunia in particular— were crucial to Harry's protection. That meant he had to defend those godforsaken Muggles and do the best he can to divert any suspicion from them. Talk about necessity…
"Mrs. Dursley opened the door for me," Remus started slowly. "Then I went to Harry's bedroom." He pondered whether to tell them about he saw in there. "In the room, I found Harry bleeding on the forehead," which was true, and he didn't have to state any reasons. "I took him downstairs and asked Mr. Dursley to call a He— uhm, help." He paused. "Then I heard this loud boom—"
"The first gunshot," muttered Brown. "Go on."
Remus thought frantically. "I looked around. It was very dark, so I couldn't see much. Then another … gunshot … rang and I felt something glaze my right cheek." He absently rubbed the spot, which was covered with a thick wad of cotton and four strips of band-aids. "A few moments later I heard the third shot, and glass started to rain down on my head." He was going to conclude here, but then he remembered Dursley getting hit by the long metal thing. "After that Mr. Dursley got hit on the head with … something and then the police came."
"Did you see the person who shot the gun?" asked Brown.
So that's what Muggles call the long metal thing. "No," said Remus.
"Did you see anyone outside of the house?"
"No," said Remus.
"Did you hear anything suspicious?"
"No," said Remus. Then he added: "It was raining very hard."
"Unfortunately," Detective Brown grumbled. "Well, thank you Mr. Lupin for your cooperation. I'll inform you if anything comes up." Remus let out a sigh. "Oh, can I get some contact information?"
"Er," said Remus panicking. He didn't have any means for Muggles to contact him, but he could hardly tell Detective Brown that. "I'm moving, so my fone is … disconnected," which was true— partially— and he desperately hoped that he used the right words. "The Dursleys and I were making arrangements so I can stay in close quarters with Harry for the summer—" at least, that was what he was planning to do— "so you can contact me with the Dursleys' number."
"Right," said Detective Brown. "I'll just ask Mr. and Mrs. Dursley when they wake up."
Detective Brown got up and prepared himself to leave. Dr. Bastian slowly got out from her seat, still looking thoughtful.
"Can you ask you a question, Mr. Brown?" said Remus.
Brown looked up. "Go ahead."
"What will the … perpetrator face if he or she is convicted?" asked Remus.
"Let's see," said Detective Brown, a grim smile flickering around his lips. "There's Assault and Battery— Attempted Murder— (Remus winced)— and a possible charge for forceful breaking and entering. So whoever did this, they should expect a loooong hard time."
"I see," said Remus. "Thank you."
Brown grunted.
---oo00oo---
"We're keeping him the emergency room until he wakes up," explained Dr. Bastian while she led Remus to where Harry was. "The wound on his forehead has been treated as well as expected, but I'm afraid he'll have scars."
Remus winced. Dr. Bastian gazed at him soberly.
"There seemed to be an older scar on his forehead. Do you know where he got it from?"
"Ah— no, not really," said Remus. It was a lie, but he could hardly tell Dr. Bastian about Dark Lords or Killing Curses. "I never brought it up, and Harry didn't want talk about it."
Dr. Bastian fell silent for a while.
"If you don't mind me asking, can you tell me more about this … Hestworth Academy?" she asked at length.
"Uhm…" Remus muttered, thinking hard. "It's highly selective school up in Scotland. The entire student body is no more than a thousand, though every child in Great Britain is taken into consideration when they do admissions."
Dr. Bastian stared at him. "How come I never heard about this school?" she wondered. "I thought I researched all the good secondary schools for my children," she frowned deeply, "apparently not."
"I don't think it's because of any lack of research from your part," Remus assured. "Hestworth isn't that widely known here. In fact, I know several students whose parents never heard about Hestworth Academy before their children got their acceptance letter."
Dr. Bastian's mouth opened and closed.
"How does the school admission work?" she asked.
"Er…" Remus struggled to frame a replay. 'An enchanted quill writes down your child's name if they are born with enough magic potential' hardly seemed to be a Muggle-y correct answer. "I'm afraid I didn't last in Hestworth long enough to learn all the details about their admission process."
"Oh," said Dr. Bastian. She looked very disappointed.
"Can I ask you a question?" said Remus. He thought it was best he turned the conversation towards Dr. Bastian before she asked the more awkward questions. "What is this … St. Brutus's Secure Center you mentioned at the waiting room?"
Dr. Bastian turned pink. "It's … St. Brutus' Secure Center for Incurably Criminal Boys." Remus turned an outraged look at the Muggle Healer, who avoided his eye. "There is a rumour in this area that … Mr. Potter goes there." Remus sputtered noiselessly. "It's ridiculous, of course, but quite a few people— children mostly— actually believe it."
Remus' eye narrowed. Dr. Bastian continued to avoid his eye as she opened a thick white door for him.
He entered a large, startlingly white room. There were several patients lying in white beds, alone or surrounded by worried visitors. Intricate heart-rate checking devices were assigned to each patient, beeping monotonously away next to their beds. Remus was appalled to find that the Muggles had stuck needles— which were, in turn, connected to some sort of elaborate potion-brewing apparatus— into all their patients as well. How sticking needles into sick people was supposed to heal them, Remus had no clue, but the sight alone made him extremely grateful to be a wizard.
Dr. Bastian led him to bed where a tall, thin old man wearing a beige overcoat and high-heeled boots was standing next to. The old man turned around when Dr. Bastian approached.
"Well, Remus, I was wondering when I would see you."
TBC …
More notes from Punisher:
Pew. That took longer than I thought. What's more, it's pathetic. Remus seems OOC in some parts, but I'll make the excuse that he was under duress. Vernon is more violent than usual (actually shooting the gun), but the reasons will become more apparent in later chapters.
My current goal is a chapter every ten to twelve days. I made it in eleven this time.
Kurbani: Thank you. As for the pairings … just wait and see.
Kira, shitsumon, Kay, Lady SallyRose, s, kateydidnt, Aubretia, tristhe: Thank you. I hope you like the second chapter. (tristhe, I think your review got lost in the in the mire that is ff.net)
Courtney: Rest assured, I hardly write anything that is one-shot or un-outlined. And no one is going to 'find-out' per-say ;-)
Kristine Thorne: heh. This story won't be an angst parade, but it would be close.