09/20/2003

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: Illustrated version of this chapter can be found at: www.glue.umd.edu/~indramh/writings/abw03.htm
Note: Posted again because of errors

A BLACK WIND
by Punisher

---Realizations---

With immense effort, Remus managed not to drop his jaw unceremoniously on the floor. He did not, however, stop himself from opening and closing his mouth repeatedly. In defense of his fish imitation, he could point out that he was doing much better than Dr. Bastian, who stumbled backwards looking absolutely gobsmacked.

Not that he could blame her, really. Standing in front of them, wearing a shimmering deep-purple Muggle suit, a pale canary-yellow shirt, a robin's-egg-blue bow-tie, high buckled boots, a beige overcoat, and a dark gray hat with more than three quarters of his beard and hair missing (did he cut it?!), was Albus Dumbledore in all his ancient and powerful glory.

"Good morning, Dr. Bastian and Professor Lupin," said Dumbledore, taking off his hat and making a swift bow.

Dr. Bastian gurgled incoherently.

Remus found his voice after some noiseless sputtering himself. "Du—Headmaster, what are you doing here?!"

In a Muggle hospital, wearing Muggle clothing, in person: the mere thought was too ridiculous to contemplate.

"It so happens," said Dumbledore, looking on top of his half-moon glasses, "That I was in this area to visit an old friend."

Remus' eyes opened wider. Dumbledore was visiting Arabella Figg? Wait. No. That's an excuse.

"When I was passing Privet Drive, about two blocks away from my old friend's home, I found a neighboring residence looking as if it was attacked," Dumbledore explained. "I made some inquiries, and the police on the site told me that Mr. Harry Potter— a student of my school— and his family were sent to this hospital by an ambulance. I thought it was only proper to check and see if everyone was all right."

"Oh," said Remus, dazed. Dr. Bastian shifted restlessly next to him.

"Do you have something to say, Dr. Bastian?" asked Dumbledore politely.

"Oh, uhm… no," Dr. Bastian stammered. She stared at Dumbledore with certain amount of awe. "Shall I leave you two alone, Mr.—?"

"White," supplied Dumbledore. "Dr. White. And yes, please, thank you."

Dr. Bastian took two steps back and practically scampered out of the emergency room.

Remus stared at 'Dr. White' for several bemused moments. "You practically scared her out," he said accusingly. Then looking at the Headmaster's beard he said: "And that's a Glamourie, I presume?"

"Works like a charm," said Dumbledore, fingering the invisible part of his beard. Then looking at Remus he asked: "Can you tell me what really happened?"

"Well—" Remus looked around, eyeing the patients and visitors. No one was looking at them— not really— but they couldn't risk the chance of being overhead.

Dumbledore nodded. "Yes, we need to be able to speak freely."

Dumbledore unobtrusively took out his wand from his sleeve. "Inaestimabilis Animadverto," he whispered. A pale white vapor poured out of the tip and spread around Harry's hospital bed in a rough six feet diameter circle. The spell, though didn't make them invisible, encouraged others to think whatever— or, in this case, whoever— within the spelled area was not worth noticing, be it sight or sound or smell. This meant the two of them could talk about Magic in the top of their lungs for all they cared, and the Muggles would not notice a thing.

Remus stepped within the circle and started talking.

"Harry didn't send us a letter yesterday," he said in a low voice. "I sent a letter asking why, but we got no replies." He left before he got a letter, actually, but considering Harry's current state, it was very likely. "I resolved to visit him today. I neglected to warn the Dursleys beforehand, though."

He gave Dumbledore an apologetic look. The Headmaster just shook his head.

"You were worried," he said, "And telling the Dursleys about your visit prior to your arrival would not have helped you."

"… Right," muttered Remus, though he didn't really understand why. He took a deep breath. "I arrived at the Dursleys' house this morning. And— well— Petunia was hysterically frightened to see me."

He paused, thinking. In hindsight, he could see why Petunia had been so afraid at him: The 'confrontation' he, Arthur, Moody and Tonks arranged at Kings Cross Station must have increased her Rhabdophobia— fear of magic— tenfold, and reacted accordingly when she realized what he was.

Remus shifted guiltily. Dumbledore had discouraged such encounters, but he ignored it as an over-caution. And like everyone else, he wanted to make sure Harry's summer holiday was as good as the circumstances allowed it to be. He never imagined the confrontation would cause so much trouble in the future … but what was done was done, and at least he knew why Dumbledore discouraged them …

"She ran away from me with the door left open," continued Remus. "I entered the house and went upstairs to check on Harry. He was … I found him—" his voice broke— "I found him with his … forehead slashed up. There was blood everywhere, and— and bits of … torn flesh …"

He shuddered. Dumbledore placed a comforting hand on his shoulder.

"I see," he said quietly. "Say no more. I get the picture."

Remus shivered again. His mind simply could not let go of the horrifying image he witnessed at Privet Drive, and he had a deep suspicion that he wasn't going to forget it for a very long time.

"Mundungus Fletcher has alerted the Order of this situation," Dumbledore told him. "He also told me that he was found by the Muggle Law Enforcement 'loitering' around the crime scene and was taken to custody."

Remus felt the blood rapidly leaving his face. "Mundungus was arrested?" he choked.

"Yes," Dumbledore confirmed somberly. "He did not tell me anything about his escape or release, but I think he simply Apparated out of his cell when no one was looking." He paused. "I devoutly hope there were no witnesses; we do not want the Magical Law Enforcement to be involved."

"No," Remus muttered. "We don't." He stared at his feet.

"I alerted Kingsley and Arthur to keep tabs on Ministry activities," Dumbledore said as if from a distance. "So far, I have not received any messages regarding Obliviator dispatches or notes from the Improper Use of Magic Office."

Remus nodded mechanically. This was his doing. He created this mess. Now Mundungus would not longer be able to stand watch for Harry, and there was a dangerous possibility that the Magical Law Enforcement would enter the picture. Who knew what kind of trouble the Ministry would cause? And to think I accused you for rashness, Sirius…

A hand squeezed his left shoulder.

"You must not blame yourself over this matter," said Dumbledore soothingly. "Who could have anticipated matters would take such a turn? And who can blame you for wanting to meet Harry before you left?"

Remus said nothing and continued to stare at the floor. But his heart was pounding. It was now clear Dumbledore expected him to go far north— to contact the werewolf community in Ireland— to talk about the relocation bill and figure out a possible course of action— to rally up everyone against the Ministry while preventing other werewolves from listening to Lord Voldemort's empty promises. But he was not going to do that. He wasn't. He went through all this, and he wasn't going. No, no, no…

"Remus?"

He looked up. Dumbledore was looking at him with deep concern.

"Take some rest," he said. "Your journey can wait for while."

He led Remus to a chair next to Harry's bed and made him sit in it. Remus fumbled wordlessly, trying to tell Dumbledore about his decision but unable to get the words out of his mouth. Apparently unawares of Remus' predicament, Dumbledore wrapped him up in a spare blanket, and then placed his wand on Remus' temple.

"Dormio," he whispered.

Instantly Remus' eyelids felt like lead. Drowsiness overwhelmed his senses and soon he was fast asleep.

---oo00oo---

He was standing in the middle of a darksome place. The sky was dark sluggish gray, and the terrain was parchment white. Where was he? And why was he standing in this barren and lifeless landscape? He took a step forwards and something crunched beneath his feet. He looked down. It looked like rocks at first, but in close inspection it was bone— aged fragments of bone.

Bones. Bones were everywhere— in heaps and mountains— stretching far beyond the horizon— farther than he could perceive. But where did these bones come from? Why was he standing in the mist of these bones? What was he doing here?

A shiver ran through his entire body. Though the air was hot enough to scorch his skin, it was piercingly cold. He felt hard winds on his skin, and by intuition alone he sensed a great sea of people howling and screaming around him. But why can't he hear them? Was it his ears?

No. It wasn't his ears. He could hear something: an insidious whisper.

--You are putting the lives of several hundred werewolves in jeopardy, just for one boy. Is it worth it?

There are many people working for werewolf rights— far too many. Let them do their work; I must do what I'm called to do.

--One more person could make the difference, my friend.

I'm not arrogant enough to think I'm the one who'll bring the change!

--And yet you are arrogant enough to think you have found the one who can bring the change! What is more, you think you can nurture him up to be the one!

…

--There are teachers out there who can do the job— teachers who are far better than you! Look at Dumbledore: can you honestly say you can do a better job than him?!

…… No. But—

--You can make him promise to oversee his education. And you know better than anyone Albus Dumbledore keeps his promises.

………

--Think about it, my friend. One of the greatest wizards in world privately tutoring The One, and you will never have to suffer the stigma of being traitor…

……

--Doesn't it sound reasonable?

… I'm … losing … my … conviction…

--You don't want to be branded traitor, do you Lupin? Do you? Do you? Do you? Do you? Do you? Do you? Do you?

…

…

Lupin…?

Lupin…?!

Lupin…?!

"Mr. Lupin!"

Remus' eyes shot open.

The first thing he noticed upon waking up was the fact that he was covered with cold sweat. The second thing was that he was shivering despite the warm blanket wrapped around him. When his eyes came back to focus, he noticed someone wearing a dark overcoat was standing before him. He looked up.

"Mr. Brown," he mumbled. He rubbed eyes with his right palm.

Detective Brown inclined his head slightly, his dark gaze intent and unwavering. Remus thought he'd comment about his rather obvious fretful sleep, but Brown mentioned nothing of that sort. Instead, he made some cursory greetings and a 'how-are-you-I-hope-you're-fine' before cutting straight to the point:

"There's been some progress in the investigation," said Brown bluntly. "We managed to gather some physical evidence from the crime scene, and your story seems to collaborate with them. However—" his eyes glinted strangely— "There is some muddy parts that I'd like for you to clarify. Please keep in mind that whatever you tell me might be used against you, and that you are under no obligation to answer me."

Remus nodded and clasped his hands.

"We found physical evidence that says you had nothing to do with the actual shooting," Brown told him. "For one thing, you'd been lucky enough to have had stepped into a mud puddle before you entered the house. There were footprints everywhere."

Remus briefly stole a glance at his right leg, which was covered with dry mud up to his knee. When he looked up, he found Brown curling his upper lip in a very Snape-like fashion. Remus suppressed a shudder.

"With the footprints in the hall leading up to the stairs, I verified that you did, in fact, walk up the stairs and ran down them," said Brown. "We had some difficulty tracing your footprints in the living room after the paramedics trampled them underfoot, but there was enough dried mud to for me to conclude you'd never been at the location where the gun was shot."

Though this sounded like good news, Remus refused to feel relieved. And lo and behold, Brown gave him a calculating look.

"I also found out that the gun was fired about twelve to fifteen feet away from you, somewhere around the dinning area in fact. Interestingly enough, there was a clear opening between the dinning area and the living room." Brown looked hard at Remus. "And yet you told me that you haven't seen the person who shot the gun."

Remus stamped down on his rising panic. How did Brown figure out where the gun was shot? Wizards still couldn't figure out where a spell was cast unless someone witnessed it or heard it—how could Muggles be any wiser about their weapons? Wait, was Brown bluffing?

"We ran a simple ballistics test on the shotgun we found in the house, and determined it was used for the shooting," growled Detective Brown. "And judging from the amount of burnt gunpowder around the bullet holes, the forensics team figured the gun was shot about fifteen to twenty feet away from the wall on the east side, which was about five to ten feet away from where you were standing when the shooting occurred."

Remus swallowed with some difficulty. Note to self: Muggle are not hopelessly stupid, whatever wizards might think about them.

"You told me it was 'very dark' when the gun was shot," Brown continued in harsh tones. "But I don't think it was dark enough this morning for a normal person to be unable to see the shooter, even without a flashlight on."

Here Brown looked at Remus severely.

"I don't know what's going on, but I hope you weren't trying to mislead me in the waiting room …"

"Uhm," Remus floundered. He dare hoped he didn't look too agitated. "It is true that the … gun was shot very close by, but I had not been able to see the shooter because … I can barely see anything in the dark. My eyes are … er, well, I have very poor night vision." This was complete lie, but it was the best excuse he could think of. Hopefully Brown would take his word for it.

"What— you have the Cataracts or something?" said Brown disbelievingly. He peered into Remus' eyes. Whatever he saw in them made both of his eyebrows shoot up in astonishment. "No! At your age?!" he exclaimed.

Remus' smiled feebly. "The same reason why I'm graying at my age, I suppose."

Brown opened his mouth, thought for a moment, and then closed it.

"I'm very sorry," said Brown gruffly but earnestly. "I did not mean to be so harsh. But for a moment, I thought you were hiding something."

"It's all right," said Remus, plastering a sickly smile on his face despite all the guilt squirming beneath it. "You wouldn't have known that I had an eye problem." Then, curiosity and sheer self-preservation getting the better of him, he asked: "I take it that the investigation is not going as well as you had hoped?"

Brown shook his head glumly. "This case—" he made some frustrated gestures— "is proving to be extremely bewildering and difficult. For all intents and purposes, it appears to be an open and shut case but actually nothing adds up."

Remus winced at Detective Brown's grumpy face. Brown would have a very hard time indeed if he tried to make sense of the magic Remus performed in number four with the general lack of information. He just hoped Brown could find a reasonable Muggle conclusion with what he got.

"And it doesn't help matters when every person in the Homicide unit thinks it's an open and shut case," Brown growled.

Correction: He really, truly hoped so.

For the next ten minutes, Detective Brown proceeded to ask Remus some standard questions for murder (or, in this case, attempted murder) investigations: Did he see anyone around the area before he entered the house? Did he see anyone he could recognize afterwards? Was he aware of anyone who might want to harm the Dursleys? Did Remus have anyone who might want to harm him? Was Remus aware of anyone else besides the Dursleys who might have known his visit to Number Four? Etc… etc… Remus felt beyond awful when he had to answer negative to all of them.

"Not that I expected anything," Brown grumbled. "All of the neighbors are insisting the Dursleys were exemplary neighbors, and it's unthinkable someone might want to kill them. I also called up Dean about an hour ago to ask his opinion of you." He gave Remus a wry grin. "Don't worry. He was highly complimentary: told me you were the best Teacher he ever had."

Remus blushed despite himself. The wry grin grew on Brown's face.

"Is it too much for me to hope you're in murderous odds with the Science Professor at Hestworth?" Brown asked, "With this Snape fellow?"

Remus breath stuck in his throat. "Se—Professor Snape?" he stammered. "Well I—" Snape did have a rather dangerous grudge on him, but he had nothing to do with the case, so why should he tell Brown that and bring more unnecessary trouble? "Professor Snape and I are not friends, and there is a certain amount of animosity between us, but he has no grudges of the murderous sort." Grudges strong enough to continuously harass him, attempt to throw him in Azkaban to receive the Dementor's Kiss, and expose his deepest secret for public scorn, but not enough to actually murder him, no.

"Right," Brown muttered. "It's just that Dean told me this Snape was universally known to have hated you." He gave Remus that twisted grin again, "Just the typical bully, I presume?"

Remus shrugged. Brown grunted and thanked him for answering his questions.

"I hope you get some promising leads," said Remus with not-entirely-false earnestness.

"Wouldn't I be lucky," said Brown sardonically. He half turned himself to leave. Before he left, he shot out a question: "By the way, do you think Mrs. Dursley hates you?"

Remus blinked. "I have only met her several times, all in a formal settings, so I wouldn't know. Why do you ask?"

"To clarify some minor points," Brown answered. "Mrs. Dursley was inclined to blame you for the incident at her house." He tapped his chin thoughtfully. "I just wondered why."

Remus nodded his head slowly. Brown studied him for a moment, then wheeled around and strode out of the emergency room.

---oo00oo---

Mr. Brown paid no more visits to Remus that day. In fact, Mr. Brown paid no more visits to the Hospital. But Remus did not get to appreciate the lack of investigators questioning his every move, as his principle object of concern was in a critical state.

His principle object of concern, Harry, did not wake up that afternoon. Nor did he wake up that evening. Muggle Healers and Nurses came and went, checking Harry's pulse, temperature and whatnot. They seemed to be baffled at Harry's condition, and various unlikely theories were put forth to account for this. Muggle medications were injected (using needles, much to Remus' horror), and Dreamless Sleep potions were surreptitiously applied by none other than Albus Dumbledore.

Dumbledore both surprised and impressed Dr. Bastian and her colleagues by staying. And once she got over the awe induced by his presence, Dr. Bastian aggressively bombarded Dumbledore with questions about 'Hestworth Academy,' taking copious notes while she was at it. Her questions ranged from the innocuous to the downright dangerous (as far as Statute of Secrecy was concerned), but the canny old Wizard managed to answer her splendidly.

It was late in the evening when Dr. Bastian finally left them alone. Remus, who simply sat in his chair silently watching Dumbledore talk with Dr. Bastian, let out a sigh of relief when Dumbledore cast the Inaestimabilis Animadverto charm around them once more.

"Such a dedicated parent," said Dumbledore admiringly. He did not seem to be least bit phased by what Remus privately named: The Interrogation Session. "And such intelligent questions, too! I have never been so thoroughly challenged to make creative responses during an informal question session."

"An informal question session?" repeated Remus, eyebrows at his hairline, "Creative responses?" He shook his head. "I still can't believe you managed to tell her something about the admissions process."

"Oh, that was easy," replied Dumbledore. He seated himself in a chair. "There is a booklet for all parents of Muggle-born students explaining Hogwarts in a purely Muggle perspective. I simply told her what was written in it." The twinkle was back in his eyes. "When lying is necessary, it helps when the lies are consistent."

Remus, who was reminded of Detective Brown in more ways than one, nodded in agreement. He also made a mental note to find a copy of the booklet Dumbledore mentioned.

"But all amusement aside," said Dumbledore in more somber tones. "We must scavenge the current situation the best we can."

Remus shrunk into his chair, his intestines squirming at will.

"The first problem is, of course, Mr. Brown," Dumbledore stated. "As the leading investigator of this case and an uncle of a Hogwarts student, he is very liable to create some complications to the Order. And this is not even considering the fact we must conceal several important details from him.

"The second problem is Mundungus Fletcher," said Dumbledore. "He obviously cannot continue his watch duties, at least while the Muggle Law Enforcement is looking for him as a suspect, and yet there is no one else in the Order to substitute his duties.

"Finally there is Harry," said Dumbledore. He sounded very tired and old. "His Occulmancy lessons must continue, and I truly mean must."

Remus looked at Dumbledore with apprehension and confusion.

"I have kept close tabs on Harry's behavior this week and last," Dumbledore explained. "And all this time Harry hardly left his room, let alone the house. He was also seen walking like a somnambulist in the height of day, and heard speaking with a voice unlike his own."

A shiver ran down Remus spine as his worst fears seem to have proven true.

"Then there are his dreams." Dumbledore's shoulders sagged even more. "Do you recall Harry mentioning something about having 'those dreams' in his first letter?" Remus nodded. "I believe Harry was referring to having dreams like the type Lord Voldemort used to… lure him to the Ministry of Magic."

Dumbledore paused for a moment.

"I assume you already know this?" he asked. Remus nodded again. "Well, it so happens that these dreams coincide with the times Harry appears to be sleepwalking."

Remus swallowed with some difficulty.

"Do you think he was possessed?"

"……Yes."

Silence crash-landed like a weight on the chest. Remus closed his eyes and felt his veins jingling with fear.

"Therefore the necessity of Occulmancy," Dumbledore concluded. "I have been attempting to continue them, but have not been able to set a foot within the Dursleys' household."

Startled, Remus looked up.

"Why…?"

"The wards would not let me in."

The silence before was nothing to the thunderous pall that descended on the room this time. Remus stared at Dumbledore, acutely aware of the blood pounding in this chest. The wards would not let Dumbledore in. They detected Dumbledore as a threat …

But how could this be? He knew that the magical protections around the Dursleys' house were created under the foundations of Lily's love and built up with the blood ties between her and Petunia, but he never really learned the specifics. But what could keep Albus Dumbledore from entering the house? Surely he posed no threat … and did Dumbledore not cast the protection charm himself?

"Harry's protection affects all those who pose a serious threat to his well being," said Dumbledore. "And apparently I am one of those people."

"But that's impossible," protested Remus. "All wards are created under assumption the caster is not a threat. And if you couldn't enter the house, how… how did I enter it without a problem?"

"How indeed?" Dumbledore mused. He scratched his long whiskers. "How indeed…"

Silence.

Silence reigned.

A clock ticked noisily in the background. And while Dumbledore was presumably musing over his predicament, Remus mulled over the strange idea. Albus Dumbledore might pose a threat to Harry Potter… he might be a threat… He shook his head, unable to accept it— yet.

"One possibility is that the wards considered intents of teaching Occlumancy as harmful," said Dumbledore thoughtfully. "It is a borderline Dark Art after all. Another possibility is that someone tampered the area so I cannot pass."

"How likely is that?"

"Not very."

The air became inexplicably heavy.

"It is also entirely possible that I do not know my wards as much as I presumed," Dumbledore mused. "Though creating wards that can detect ill and murderous intent are not particularly difficult, this … selectiveness … I noticed around number four seems to be too complex and purposeful even for magic."

Silence hovered between them like dense smog. At length Dumbledore shook his head.

"Sitting around here brooding will not give us answers that do not come," he said. "So let us focus on the questions we can solve.

"For Detective Brown, we have little option but to be very careful around him and keep our stories consistent until memory charms becomes necessary. I suggest you think out a story that covers whatever you have told Mr. Brown so far, and collaborate it with the Dursleys."

"Shall I compile a list?" asked Remus, his eyebrows in a complete obtuse angle.

"Please do." Dumbledore's mustache was quivering. "You'll have to burn it afterwards, though."

Remus shrugged ruefully with due exaggeration.

"As for Mundungus—" Dumbledore looked oddly bemused— "I say we stand watch while Harry is in this hospital. Hopefully we would think of other alternatives before he is discharged. If all fails, we will have to bring him to Hogwarts under one pretense or another."

For some reason, that made Remus' heart seize. He sat in his chair motionlessly. Neither of them spoke for a long time.

Finally Dumbledore stood up.

"I must recast the sleeping charm on the Dursleys," he said.

"You put them to sleep?" Remus exclaimed. "But I thought … Detective Brown said …"

"I was a tad late in discovering where the Muggle Doctors had put Petunia Dursley, and found her room when Mr. Brown was in the middle of taking her testimony," said Dumbledore. "Because of my tardiness, I had been … obliged … me to cast the Hysteria curse on Mrs. Dursley, forcing the Muggle Nurses to sedate her and reducing the credibility of her claim." He rubbed his face with his hands. "The things you do when you are desperate…"

Remus bowed his head.

"The sleeping draught I gave Harry will wear out by dawn," said Dumbledore quietly. "So there is no need for you to stay up all night." He let his hand rest on Remus' shoulder. "I will meet you again in the morning."

Remus forced himself to nod. Though Dumbledore essentially advised him to sleep, slumbering that night seemed to out of the question for his nerves. But soon he felt a blanket being wrapped around his shoulders, and a wand tapping his temple.

"Dormio."

His eyes closed. His mind turned blissfully blank. And then … darkness.

---oo00oo---

…

…

Where is he?

It looked like …

… the past!

The pouring rain…

He was going to Godric's Hallow, after being attacked by a hysterical mob…

Searching for a little comfort he knew he couldn't find…

James was shocked to see him. Lily quickly beckoned him inside. Both of them went to the Kitchen to fetch something. Restless, he entered a room with its lights on…

… and came face to face with baby Harry in his crib.

Until then, he avoided any encounters with Harry. In fact, he could count the number of infants he met in his lifetime with his fingers. No sane person who knew what he was would let him come near one, and the fact it was widely known to most Magical folk that babies could recognize a werewolf in an instant kept him at bay.

Dealing with an adult rejection was one thing; receiving it from someone too young to know hatred was quite another.

He started to back away, sealing himself for the inevitable wail of distress from his friend's son.

But Harry … Harry had not made a sound.

The baby was watching him. There was thoughtfulness in his eyes that was utterly alien to someone so young.

He stopped his tracks. As if he was drawn, he approached the crib. Harry continued to watch him with those strange green eyes.

He placed his hands on the white crib. Baby Harry studied them for a moment, then reached out for the bloodstained one…

… And caressed the wound.

Harry had looked up. His large eyes were brimming with tears, and yet he did not cry. Harry opened his mouth and let out a string of baby noises. They were incoherent gurgles at best, and yet the meaning did not escape him at all.

Are you all right?

He could not longer breath. His chest ached. His heart was pounding. His vision was swimming away in a blurry mist.

Warmth—warmth and overwhelming happiness he had felt when James and Sirius had told him that they weren't going to shun him, that it didn't matter, that they were going to stay regardless was flooding his veins.

His knees buckled and he fell to the floor. He crawled up to Harry's crib. Tears still brimming, Harry extended both of his short arms in an indescribably heart-wrenching gesture.

Trembling, he wrapped his arms around Harry… and clung.

…

…

…

Remus slowly opened his eyes. He was drenched in sweat again, and yet he wasn't surprised. Nor was he surprised at the unshed tears shimmering beneath his eyelids.

"I forgot about that," he whispered.

He slumped forwards, resting his head against Harry's hospital bed. A clock ticked loudly in the background. The soft harmonic beeping of the hear-rate checking devices blended in it. In his mind's eye, Remus saw baby Harry caressing his long-healed hand over and over again. Those large innocent eyes boring into his own, like it had happened only a while back…

A clock chimed five times. Remus got up from his seat. He soundlessly trotted out the emergency room. The halls were devoid of people, and only two people were working their early morning shift behind the information desk. He stopped by and asked the question he should have asked a long time ago. It took him a while to persuade them, but he got what he needed.

More people were walking down the halls. They seemed to step aside when he came through. Some even looked at him with awe. Remus paid them little mind. He focused entirely on his objective, least he hesitated again. He stopped, and checked the room number. This was it. He rapped the door merely to announce his presence. Without being invited, he pushed open the door and entered.

Vernon and Petunia Dursley were inside. Both of them jumped violently when they recognized him. Petunia sputtered noiselessly, pointing a bony finger at his direction. Vernon was practically convulsing. Remus gave them a swift bemused looked before hardening his expression.

"I'd like to have a word with you."

It was done.

More Notes from Punisher:

Now that was one late chapter. But I had a competition entry to complete, and went through a two week long creativity recuperation period. After recovery, school had started, which means very little time to write.

Next Chapter: Harry wakes up. Remus and the Dursleys strike up a deal.

The bystander: Thank you! You're reviews are always welcomed. Chapter 2 was indeed shorter than chapter 1 by about three hundred words, and I debated for a while whether to add some more before posting it. Harry's forehead will be explained later. It's great to know you like the conversation between Remus and the doctor and the detective—I wrote that part several times before all the facts were logically consistent.

Kurbani: A repeat reviewer! Thank you!

Elessar: They won't disappear, but they will stay out of sight. ;-)

Thewalrus1: Alas, I feared it may be the case. Thank you for leaving a review nonetheless.

A 29467: You're right on the money!

kateydidnt: Another repeat reviewer! I didn't consciously think of the quote when I was writing that part, but now that you mentioned it, I must have been influenced by Franklin without knowing.

Bibliography:

Inaestimabilis Animadverto: Spell of the Author's own creation. Here are the Latin roots:
Inaestimabilis [that cannot be estimated]; hence [priceless , inestimable]; also [having no value]. Animadverto (animadvortor) -vertere -verti -versum [to turn or give the mind to]. Hence [to take notice of, attend to; to perceive, observe]. Esp. [to take notice of] a fault, [blame, censure, punish].

Cataracts: A cataract is a clouding of a part of the eye known as the crystalline lens. The lens is a clear tissue located behind the pupil. When the lens becomes cloudy, or cataractous, light cannot pass to the retina properly, and vision is blurred and decreased.