Foreshadowing the Past

Chapter 8

All that you see or seem is but a dream within a dream. -Edgar Allen Poe

Connor went down to join his friends at dinner, but didn't say anything to them about his dream or his parents' reaction to what he had told them about it. He wanted to think about it first, and try to figure out why he was dreaming of an apparently real place, when he hadn't been there before. Up until now, he had believed that the doors and the round room in his dream were symbolic of something, not an actual place; and now he had learned what that place was (sort of).

He knew from his many trips to the Ministry of Magic with various family members that the Department of Mysteries was part of the Ministry, and that people who worked there were called 'Unspeakables.' What he didn't know was how and why his parents had known, from his description, exactly where his dream was taking place. Neither of them had ever worked for the Department of Mysteries that he knew of, nor did any of his Aunts or Uncles; his Grandfather Arthur had worked at the Ministry, but he had been Head of Magical Law Enforcement when he died.

He finally (reluctantly) decided that the first thing to do tomorrow after classes would be to check the school library for information about Unspeakables and the Department of Mysteries. With that settled in his mind, he joined in the general conversation of the table, which was still jovial due to their win that morning. Before long, Ivy and Zack excused themselves to go back to the Common Room to work on their Charms homework, and Rachel had moved down the table to talk with Aiden. Connor and Quentin were sitting side by side, and Connor noted that his friend looked vaguely troubled, and kept glancing over at the Slytherin table, to where his sister was sitting alone again. Connor followed his gaze and noticed that Vanessa's eyes were red, and she appeared to have been crying recently. He wondered how long her friends and her team would continue to shun her,

"McGonagall told me about her detentions," Connor said quietly. He disliked the pretty Slytherin girl about as much as it was possible to dislike a person, but she was still his best friend's sister. "Looks like she's taking it hard."

Quentin looked away from his sister and over at Connor. He didn't blame the other boy for the trouble Vanessa had gotten herself into. If anything, he had been worried that Connor would be angry with him for having such an awful sister. "Hard is an understatement," he said, keeping his voice low. "My Dad was furious with her, and really let her have it. I guess they didn't tell Dad whom she'd been bullying, but they told him that she had tried to cause another student 'serious damage' and the words 'extortion' and 'deplorable' came up. They told her that she was risking suspension or expulsion if she was ever involved in such a serious matter again."

"Ouch," Connor said. He could well imagine what his own parents would have had to say if he had been the one in her place.

"Yeah," Quentin agreed. "Dad even went so far as to say that if she didn't shape up and keep her nose clean, she would end up like he did - you know. Prison."

Connor swallowed a lump that had been forming in his throat. Quentin almost never talked about his father's yearlong incarceration back in the days shortly after graduating from Hogwarts himself. He had told Connor the tale one night last year when some students from another house had been especially vicious to him over having a Death Eater Grandfather and a Father that had spent time in Azkaban. Connor had come to his defense, and then the two of them had stayed up in the Common Room long into the night, while Quentin had vented his anger and told Connor and Zack the account of what had happened.

It turned out that Quentin's Grandfather had been a devout Death Eater (though as school aged children a generation later, they only had the vaguest idea of what that really meant), and had wanted Quentin's father to join them as well. It seemed that at first, Quentin's father had been eager to join the Death Eaters, but when Draco Malfoy had learned what being a Death Eater entailed, he had told his father that he didn't want to serve or bow anyone, and refused to join. Lucius Malfoy had been enraged, and had turned on him and framed him for the murder of a witch that had lived in a house near where Draco had settled down. Even though the younger Malfoy had not borne the tell tale mark on his forearm, the Dark Mark had appeared in the sky over the site of the murder, and Draco's unconscious form was found in the house of the victim. He been sent to Azkaban and held there for a year; Aurors had killed Lucius Malfoy shortly thereafter, and Draco had finally been proven innocent with the help of Albus Dumbledore. However, even though Quentin's father had inherited Lucius's considerable wealth and properties, the social stigma of having associations with the Dark Lord remained for a long time after, and he had lost any respect he might have once had in the Wizarding community. He had been forced to build his reputation based on his own works. It had taken him years, and a lot of maturing, but he had done it, and now he was a relatively well-respected wizard in the community based on his own merit.

"She's not going to take that well," Connor said, looking away when he sensed that Vanessa was looking up at them. "I hate to say it, but I think the two of us are walking around with huge targets painted on our backs that only she can see."

Quentin nodded fervently and added, "We'll have to be extra careful now, though. She won't risk getting caught again - she'll be even sneakier about it now."

***********

That night, Connor slept well at first, dreaming happily of that day's Quidditch game. It wasn't long, though, before the dream shifted, and Andrew Tillman was standing in front of him shouting angrily, " This is all your father's fault !" Connor barely had time to absorb this new element to his dream when he was back in the now familiar round room.

The walls were spinning again, the blue light a blurred streak in front of his eyes. Connor felt slightly dizzy by the time they came to a stop, and needed a moment to get oriented. Zack didn't seem to need any such concession, and strode to the door nearest to him and pushed it open. Connor passed Zack and stepped through the door to look around, and the rest peered into the room that was revealed beyond, a large stone room that looked like an amphitheatre with benches all around, and what appeared to be a one-man stage at the bottom with a tattered curtain hanging from an arch.

"Not this one," Connor said, feeling uneasy, and stepped back into the round room with the others. "We're running out of time!"

Connor jerked awake suddenly to find Quentin hovering over him. The motion that Connor had taken to be the rotation of the walls in his dream again had actually been his friend shaking him awake.

"Oh no," he groaned quietly, realizing at once that it was still dark outside. "I'm sorry. Did I wake everyone?"

"No," Quentin said in a whisper. "You didn't even wake me. I was just coming back from the toilet when I heard you say something about running out of time. I thought you were talking to me for a minute, then realized you were still asleep."

"Good," Connor said with relief. "If I keep making so much noise, you guys are going to end up making me sleep in the Common Room."

"Another nightmare?" Quentin asked, ignoring his friend's attempt at levity.

"No, not really," Connor answered truthfully. "Just a strange dream."

"Must have been. Want to talk about it?"

"I think I do," Connor said tiredly. "But let's leave it until tomorrow when the others are awake. I think I might need some help finding out something."

Quentin nodded in acceptance and returned to his own bed, whispering good night and going back to sleep. Connor pondered over his dream for a while, but eventually he, too, fell back into a peaceful slumber.

********

The next morning, Andrew left the dormitory to go shower, and Quentin took the opportunity to ask Connor again about his dream. Zack seemed interested in what Connor had overheard while eavesdropping on his parents, even though he didn't really understand any of it. Being Muggleborn, he really didn't have a whole lot of ideas about how the Ministry of Magic worked, but was willing enough to learn, and volunteered to spend the evening in the library with the others finding out as much as they could about the Department of Mysteries.

"Just remember," Connor warned. "We don't want to tell anyone what we're really looking for. If Lupin or McGonagall find out, they'll tell my parents, and then my parents will freak out."

"And we need to be careful not to say anything around Andrew, either." Quentin added. "We don't really know what his problem is, or if he's reporting anything we do or say to my sister."

They dressed quickly and grabbed their books for Potions and Charms before heading down the stairs. Ivy and Rachel were just coming down from the girl's staircase, and they all climbed through the portrait hole and started off for the Great Hall. Making sure that they were not being followed or listened to, Connor quickly told the girls what was happening, and they agreed to help out after classes.

"You know," Rachel said thoughtfully as they took their places at the Gryffindor table, as far from others as possible. "I could swear I've heard my Mum and Dad talking about the Department of Mysteries before when they thought us kids weren't around, but I really wasn't paying a whole lot of attention. Mum's always going on about something to do with the Ministry, and it's usually boring. I think it's something to do with research."

"Doesn't your Mum work for the Ministry?" Zack asked. He had trouble keeping track of what all the Weasley adults did for employment, and the only thing he was sure of was that Connor and Rachel's Dads designed and manufactured broomsticks.

"Yes," Rachel said, helping herself to some eggs. "But not in the Department of Mysteries. She's an Advocate who represents the interests of victims of Wizarding crimes when trials are held before the Wizengamot."

"Do you think there's a way to ask her about the Department of Mysteries without making her suspicious?' Connor asked hopefully.

"Not if you don't want her mentioning it to your folks," Rachel said bluntly. "Let's see what we can find out in the Library first, and then work from there."

"Right," Connor sighed. He hated the Library, and tried to avoid it whenever humanly possible. The Librarian, Madam Pince, was one of the most ancient people the he had ever met, and Connor swore (to the humor of his friends) that she was two hundred and twelve years old, at least. She always seemed to be creeping about, telling people off for being too loud or harming her precious books with their 'grubby little hands' every time they turned a page. Still, there was nothing else for it, he needed to know why his parents had reacted so strangely to his dream; they had seemed afraid of the room he had described, and weren't likely to give out any information about it to him. They were already going to write to Madam MacTaggart, which was bad enough, but if his precognitive abilities were starting to change into something else, he wanted to know what. "The Library it is."

Ivy giggled at the look of revulsion that passed over Connor's face as he said the word 'library'. "It's not that bad, Con," she said with a smile. "I won't let Madam Pince get you."

"Easy for you to say," Connor grumped. "She adores you."

"Why?" Quentin asked curiously as he picked at his sausages.

"She and my Great-Gran were really good friends," Ivy said. "Madam Pince claims that I look just like her, and that it's like looking through a window into the past every time she sees me." She gave a dramatic flutter of her eyelashes as she said the last bit, and Quentin snorted into his pumpkin juice.

"Well let's get to potions," Zack said, gathering his bag. "Snape said that we're going to be tested on that Swelling Solution today, and I want to be sure to get a seat in the back of the room."

**********

By lunchtime, Connor had a headache of major proportions. He sat at the Gryffindor table holding an ice pack to his bruised forehead, where he'd hit it on his desk when Andrew had 'accidentally' caused his chair to slide out from under him during Charms class. He had gone to the hospital wing to see Madam Cosgrove for a headache potion, but the school's healer had been out, with no clue as to where she was or when she'd be back.

"How bad is it?" he asked Rachel, removing the ice to reveal a large purple lump.

"Oh it looks bad," she said cheerfully. "And your eyes are starting to blacken, too. What happened anyway, and why haven't you gone to the hospital wing?"

"I did," he answered, replacing the ice. "Madam Cosgrove wasn't there."

"It was Andrew," Ivy answered, dishing up some stew and sliding it over in front of Connor. "He claims it was an accident."

"If that was an accident, then I'm the Queen of England," Zack said. "He's had it in for all of us, and took a cheap shot."

"I'm not so sure," Quentin muttered. "He looked stunned when Connor got hurt."

"Well he may have been stunned when Connor hit his head," Ivy said, ladling out some more stew for herself. "But I'd be willing to wager that it wasn't a surprise when the chair flipped out from under him."

"So you're saying that he meant to embarrass Connor, not hurt him?" Rachel asked, putting together what happened from their conversation.

"I don't buy it," Zack said firmly.

"But look at it from Andrew's point of view," Quentin said seriously. "It would be really stupid of him to deliberately hurt one of us, when we sleep in the same room as him and can get back at him anytime without witnesses."

"You're right," Connor said, spooning up a mouthful without taking the ice from his head. "It's not his style. He's probably quaking in his shoes, wondering what we're going to do to him now."

"Well don't go doing anything stupid," Ivy warned. "Even without witnesses, you could get into a lot of trouble if he suddenly ends up with a black eye of his own."

"Oh I don't think we'll need to do anything to him," Quentin chuckled. "I think all we'll need to do is look at him like we plan on doing something, and he'll practically be wetting himself by bedtime."

"Just as long as you don't get yourselves in trouble," Ivy said with a small smile of her own. "Are we still meeting in the Library after classes?"

"Yes," Connor said with his mouth full of stew. He swallowed and said, "With luck, we can find out what we need by dinnertime.

When they arrived at the transfiguration classroom, Professor Thompson took one look at Connor's head and sent him back to the hospital wing. Before leaving the room, Connor paused and looked back to where Andrew was sitting, making sure to make eye contact with the other boy before turning away. He felt slightly uncomfortable as he made his way down the corridor; Andrew had looked downright scared when he'd sought out his gaze. Maybe it was time to try to call a halt to the hostilities before anything really bad happened. If they could convince Andrew that they would leave him alone if he did the same, he wouldn't feel the need to talk to Vanessa about them.

The hospital wing was still empty when he got there, and there was not sign of the healer to be found. He decided that he'd better wait for her to come back, or else he'd only be sent back later. Transfiguration was his last class of the day, though he did have Astronomy tonight at midnight, and he didn't want to waste the free period repeatedly returning here to see if Madam Cosgrove had returned.

"Connor?"

Connor turned to see Professor Lupin walking toward him with concern in his eyes. "Are you all right? What happened?"

"I'm okay," he answered, letting the professor examine the lump on his head. "Just an accident in charms."

Lupin seemed satisfied that his injuries weren't serious, and sat down beside him. "Madam Cosgrove's down in the Potions classroom getting some remedies from Professor Snape," he said. "She should be back in a few minutes."

"I'll just wait then," Connor answered, rested his head against wall against which his chair sat.

"Actually I want to find you in Transfiguration," Lupin said. "I was told that you'd been sent here. I wanted to let you know that Madam MacTaggart will be paying the school a visit to speak with you about the dreams you've been having."

"Oh, no," Connor groaned. "She doesn't need to come here, honestly!"

"She actually doesn't live far from here," Lupin said calmly. "So it's not any trouble."

"Not for her, maybe," Connor said glumly. "But I'm trying hard to keep for looking like a big freak in front of my friends, and having her coming here asking me all kinds of questions..."

"Not to worry," came the smooth reply. "Your friends don't even have to know about it unless you want to tell them. You may meet with her in the Headmistress's office on Friday evening; unless something happens to detain her, she should only be here for a few hours."

When Connor's expression did not change at this bit of news, Lupin sighed and said, "Your parents are worried about you, Con."

Connor knew that this was his uncle speaking now, and relaxed a little bit. He could be more open with his uncle, and know that anything he told him would be kept in confidence. "Why did they get so upset about a silly dream?"

"Well," Lupin said, choosing his words carefully. "Your abilities have been limited to simple predictions that fulfill themselves within a very short period of time, for the most part. You tend to react to them as a matter of course without thinking about it much, and it disrupts your life relatively little. If your abilities are in a stage where they are going to expand or turn into something else, your parents need to know about it and learn as much as they can so that they can help you deal with whatever it is that's going on. It's unfamiliar territory for them, and that can be frightening. Amelia MacTaggart is the one person on earth most qualified to understand what may or may not be happening to you, and to advise on whether any action should be taken based on what she learns from her discussions with you."

"But it's only a dream," Connor complained. "And they didn't get all concerned about it until they heard what my dream was about. I feel like they already know something that they're not telling me."

"Well I can assure you that if your parents are keeping anything from you, it's for your own welfare," Lupin said, much to Connor's dissatisfaction.

"Did they tell you what my dream was about?" Connor asked.

"Yes."

"Does it mean anything to you?" he asked, watching his uncle's eyes carefully.

Connor had his suspicions that Lupin was hiding something confirmed when he looked around the room and didn't quite meet his eyes as he said, "To be Honest, I don't know what to make of it. I think I hear Madam Cosgrove coming now."

Sure enough, the school healer bustled in carrying a large crate full of potion bottles, and muttering about forgetting to put up a sign about her absence from the hospital wing.

"Half six on Friday evening in the Headmistress's office, Conner," Lupin reminded him unnecessarily before standing and leaving the boy to the care of the healer.