When he looked back on that night, years later, he would find himself wondering why he didn't question the strangeness of his actions.
He didn't sleep. Or, well, atleast he tried not to. sometimes surviving an entire week through coffee and chocolate, on a constant sugar/caffeinne high. And yet, he had fallen asleep so easily that night. That should have been his first clue.
But he'd been so relieved that he hadn't experienced any visions that morn ing, or any run-of-the-mill nightmares, that everything else had slipped his mind.
And even after he'd discovered he was no l onger in that same clearing on the outskirts of Surrey, he'd never stopped to consider that maybe -- just maybe -- that sleep might have been unnatural.
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Harry groaned softly, raising a hand to clutch as his pounding head. Joy. The one time he didn't ahve either nightmares or visions, his head decided to complain the loudest way possible.
Wait. He'd fallen asleep outside, hadn't he? So why did it feel like he was lying in a bed? A bed far too co mfortable to be his own, back at the Dursleys.
Blearily blinking open his eyes, Harry stared at his surroundings in confusion. He lay on a large bed surrounded completely by curtains as black as midnight, obscuring his view of the rest of the room.
Even without looking at the room beyond though, he knew ins tictively that he wsn't at Hogwarts, or even a hospital, Muggle or otherwise. o self-repecting hospital, or even school infirmiry, would surround their patients in black -- only white, always.
Reaching forward to push the curtains aside, harry gasped in shock as a bolt of pure pain suddenly passed thro ugh his arm.
So, the curtains were warded. Understandable, if a bit alarming. For that meant that he was trapped -- a prisoner.
Sighing in frustration -- this always seemed to happen to him! -- Harry collasped back onto the bed, staring at the cieling above him in annoyance.
That annoyance quickly faded into curiosity, however, as he continued to stare at that cieling. It was wooden, and seemed to be in danger of falling down around him ........ or, well, technically, onl top of him.
Whoever had kidnapped him, they certaintly didn't have a good deal of money. Which means that he could cancel of ........ well, everybody he'd ever pissed off.
The sound of a door opening jarred Harry out of his thoughts. He glanced up just in time to watch as the curtains were parted, to reveal ........ Remus Lupin.
Harry blinked in surprise at that, staring at his former in shock. He hadn't seen hide nor hair of the olde rman since Sirius' death -- nobody had.
"remus --" He started only to be stopped short by the sigh tof another man, slightly shorted than Remus, appearing behind Remus. Coal black hair fell heavily in curls down to his shoulders, and bright green eyes watched Harry with keen interest.
"You aren't leading a double life on me, now ar eyou Zarth? Who's this 'Remus' character?" The unknown man turned his eyes on the man Harry had been sure was Remus Lupin, a smirk forming on his li ps.
"I must remind him of somebody he knows." Zarth sent his friend a mock glare, only succeeding in making the man burst out into laughter, before turning back to Harry with a small smile playing on his lips.
Now that he was looking for it, there were small differences in the man, from what Remus looked like. First and foremost, were his clothes. Instead of the usual tattered and frayed wizard's robes that Harry was so accustomed to seeing his favourite professor wearing, the man was dressed in a loose pair of blue jeans and a plain white t-shirt. His hair was longer, as well, although nowhere's near as long as that of his companion. And his eyes were a bright blue, in contrast to Rems' chocolate brown.
By the time he'd finished his appraisal of the differences betweent his man and Remus, whihch took all of 5 seconds -- Harry's entiere body had tensed up, ready to either fight or flee, whichever proved to be benificial.