Foreshadowing the Past

Chapter 12

Sometimes dreams alter the course of an entire life. --Judith Duerk

Connor finished his dinner with a strange sense of déjà vu. The scene that Andrew had caused, yelling out, "This is all your father's fault!" was like something out of a dream... in fact the more he thought about it, he realized it was from a dream. He had dreamt about Andrew saying just those words the night after he had overheard his parents talking about the Department of Mysteries. It had been the night that Quentin had woken him up. Strange. Still, the part of his dream in which Andrew had made his accusation or blame had seemed different from the part of dream about the round room and the rooms beyond. So what did that mean? he first part of his dream had been, what? A prediction? Precognition? And so the second part, according to Madam MacTaggart, was just projected memories from his father. Something just didn't feel right.

"Hey Connor," Rachel said quietly. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," he said. "Just thinking about a dream I had."

"I was afraid that Andrew might have upset you," she said. "You've been really quiet since he stormed out."

"Yeah," Ivy added. "I thought you guys had called a truce with him?"

"We did," Connor said. "But something set him off."

"Whatever it was, it must have had something to do with the letter he just got," Ivy said. "He just read it and then exploded."

"Do you think I should try to talk to him about it?" Connor asked doubtfully. "He seems to think that my dad did something to him."

"I wouldn't," Zack said flatly. "We may not be actively fighting with him anymore, but we're not exactly friends, either. If he wants to talk about it, he will. He's never had a problem speaking his mind before."

"What do you think Quint?" Connor asked, noticing that his friend had been quiet through the discussion.

Quentin shrugged his shoulders and said, "I agree with Zack. If he wants to talk about it, then fine, but if he's just going to yell because he didn't like what his letter had to say, I say let him be."

"I suppose," Connor said. He still couldn't shake the feeling that having dreamed of Andrew's outburst before now held some sort of importance.

When dinner was finished, they Gryffindors went back to their Common Room to work on homework or to relax before going to bed. Connor was drawn into a mini chess tournament, but ended up being eliminated after only three games, which was a relief to him. It was ten o'clock by the time that Rachel had beaten him in the last game, and he was beginning to feel sleepy. Quentin had now taken his place playing against Rachel, and Ivy was currently facing off against one of the sixth year prefects. Aiden had defeated Zack earlier, and so Zack and Connor sat watching the others play as they sat contentedly by the fire.

"I wrote to my parents about letting you come for Christmas," Connor told the other boy quietly, so as not to disturb the players. "I gave them your parent's address and telephone number."

"Your parents have a phone?" Zack asked in surprise.

"No," Connor answered. "But we live near a little village that has a public one, and Dad knows how to use it."

"They would probably be more comfortable with a phone call at first," Zack said, starting to feel hopeful that Connor's plan might work out after all. He honestly didn't mind going home for Christmas, but from what his friends described about their own holidays, he thought something might be a bit lacking in his own; he was eager to find out what it was.

"Don't worry," Connor said confidently. "Dad can talk anyone into just about anything when he sets his mind to it."

Zack yawned hugely, and Connor followed suit. They decided that they had had enough of watching chess, and bid their friends goodnight before heading up to the dormitory. Connor hoped he would have enough time to try to clear his mind and relax before sleep claimed him as he felt his eyelids getting heavy. Andrew's bed hangings were drawn, but from the sound of light snoring coming from within, he was fast asleep, so Connor turned to his own bed, peeling his covers back.

"Hey," Zack whispered from the next bed. "What's this?"

Connor looked over to see his friend picking up a crumpled piece of parchment from the floor near the foot of Andrew's bed. Zack smoothed out the paper and looked down at it, then looked up at Connor.

"What is it?" he asked, careful to keep his voice low.

Zack brought the paper over and sat on the edge of the bed, beside Connor who took what turned out to be a letter. Connor felt slightly guilty reading someone else's mail, but it had been tossed on the floor, and it was also very brief.

'Dear Andrew,

Your father has been taken to St. Mungo's and will most likely be there through the Holidays. I think it is best if you stay at Hogwarts this Christmas. I will send your gift by owl.

Love, Mum.'

"Blimey." It was all Connor could think to say. He had no idea that Andrew's father was in hospital, and there were no details in the letter, so Connor assumed that this had not been unexpected. He felt a lot more awake now than he had a moment ago.

"What are you two looking at?" Quentin asked, coming into the room and sitting at the foot of Connor's bed.

The two boys automatically gestured for Quentin to be quiet and then passed him the letter. He read the letter quickly, and then glanced over at Andrew's bed, where the deep even sounds of his snoring could be heard.

"Why do you reckon his father's in St. Mungo's?" Zack asked.

"If this is the letter he got at dinner tonight, why does he think that it's my father's fault?" Connor asked, even more confused.

"Maybe he fell off of a broomstick that your father made?" Quentin suggested. "It's the only thing I can think of. It's not like your father goes around putting people in hospital on purpose."

"Whatever the reason," Zack said. "He was mad enough to cause a scene at dinner and to leave his letter crumpled up on the floor where we could find it.

"I don't know what's going on with him," Connor said. "But Professors McGonagall and Lupin were obviously worried about something that happened to him over the summer."

"Think it was something big enough to make the Daily Prophet?" Zack asked with a raised eyebrow.

Quentin groaned at the thought of taking up yet another extra research project, and said, "Do we really want to know about him that badly?"

"Nah," Connor said. "I think that would be a little too much like spying. It's one thing if he wants to talk to us, but let's not get carried away. Professor Lupin said that he would try talking to him; let's leave him to it."

"It's your call," Quentin said. "It's not my dad he's accusing."

Zack crumpled up the parchment again, and put it back on the floor where he had found it; their truce with Andrew could very well come to a screeching halt if he ever discovered that they had read his mail. They all changed into their pyjamas and got ready for bed, and Connor closed his bed's hangings so that he could block out anything that might distract him. He slowly and deliberately took some deep breaths and tried to clear his mind and relax. He tried to visualize a blank piece of parchment, but found his mind beginning to wander, and so switch to thinking about a calming scene. His parents had taken his family on a holiday to the sea once, and Connor had found that the beach was a very peaceful place at sunrise, and so he invoked an image of the sea at dawn, and soon found himself drifting off to the rhythmic sound of remembered tides.

"What is this place?" Ivy's voice was right in his ear.

Connor couldn't take his eyes from the strange room that they were standing in. There were clocks and hourglasses of all shapes and sizes on the every available surface. The sound of the gentle ticking was eerie as it echoed around the large room in an endless, uncoordinated symphony of sound; it was almost as if the room were whispering to him in an ancient, unknown language.

"We made it in time," he heard Rachel's voice coming from right behind him. "She should be here in under two minutes."

"What do we do when she shows up?" Zack sounded as if he were somewhere off to the right.

"Let me think," Connor said to them all, feeling a sweat break out on his forehead. The clocks around him all showed the time of 2:54 on their faces.

"Someone's coming!" Quentin hissed, sounding panicky.

Connor could hear voices, and he spun around jerkily to see the door leading to the round room close of it's own accord, and the sudden rumbling told him that the walls inside were spinning again.

"Connor!" Ivy's excited voice had him turning back to see a woman appear out of thin air into the middle of the room. She as wearing deep blue robes, and had light brown hair that was piled haphazardly atop her head, and she seemed startled to see them all looking at her. She seemed to be holding something, but Connor couldn't see what it was; he needed to move closer..."

Connor woke with a jolt, and sat straight up in his bed looking around wildly for whatever it was that had woken him. His mind was completely clear and alert, but he could find no source of disturbance that could explain why he had suddenly found himself thrown so abruptly from sleep. He put a hand to his face and found that his forehead was wet with perspiration, and that noted that his heart was beating faster than normally. He pushed his bed hangings apart long enough o grab his watch from the cabinet beside his bed, and grabbed his wand from beneath his pillow.

"Lumos!" he muttered, looking around the enclosed area to make certain that there was nothing amiss that might have woken him, but found nothing out of the ordinary. 'Maybe my dad was sending me his memories again, and got woken up, making me wake up too,' he thought. It made as much sense as anything else he could think of, and he wondered who the lady had been. Had she been a part of the battle that his Dad had talked about? He looked at his watch in the glow of his wand and saw that it was only 4:30 on a Sunday morning. He felt too alert to go back to sleep, and so he quietly got up and showered and dressed, intending to go to the Common Room and read for a while.

The Common Room was deserted, as he had expected, and so he chose a seat by the fire. The house elves had obviously been in to clean, and the wood of the tables and chairs smelled of lemon oil. It made him a bit homesick. He began to read a book that Zack had lent him - a Muggle one that his friend had assured him was quite exciting - but had trouble understanding it. There were too many references to Muggle gadgets and devices to make much sense to Connor, and so he put it down again and just stared into the fire for a few minutes, thinking about his dream, until he heard someone descending the steps.

"Andrew?" Connor was surprised to see his roommate up and about so early, even if he was still in his dressing gown. "You okay?

Andrew sighed and came to sit across from Connor. "I'm fine."

Connor looked at him skeptically; he didn't look fine, he looked terrible. There were dark circles around his eyes, and his eyes were red.

"All right," Andrew admitted. "I'm a little rough around the edges right now. I... I wanted to apologize for blowing up at you at dinner last night. I got some bad news from home and I took it out on you. I'm sorry."

"It's okay," Connor said. "Everyone has to blow off some steam every once in a while. Is everyone at home all right? You said you had bad news."

"My father is... unwell," Andrew said carefully. "We thought that he was improving, but he had a sort of, er, relapse recently, and now he's been sent to St. Mungo's for treatment. I won't be able to go home for Christmas, because my mother will be spending all of her time at the hospital."

"I'm sorry," Connor said quietly. He had not expected the other boy to be so forthcoming with information, and didn't want to spoil the moment. It only took a moment for the plan to form in his head, but Connor found himself suddenly saying, "Would you like to come home with me for Christmas?" He was sure his parents wouldn't object to him bringing two people home.

Andrew gave a short, humorless laugh and said, "I'm not a charity case quite yet, Potter."

"You'd be welcome," Connor tried again, feeling pity for the other boy. "Zack is going to be coming." I think.

"One more reason to refuse," Andrew answered without much heat. "I'll be fine here. Thank you anyway."

Connor nodded as Andrew stood and made his way back up the stairs, presumably to go back to bed, or maybe to get dressed. It was the grumbling of his stomach that had Connor getting to his feet himself and wondering if the house elves would have started breakfast yet. He was rarely up this early, and so had no idea how early it was acceptable to go to the Great Hall on Sundays. He climbed through the portrait hole and went in search of breakfast.

The halls were still dark, since the sun was only now beginning to turn the horizon pale pink. The stones were cool from the chill outside; no amount of warming charms over the old castle could completely block out winter's icy grip. Connor shivered slightly as he made his way toward the general direction of the Great Hall, meandering down different corridors, enjoying the silence of the school before most of it's inhabitants were stirring.

"Connor? What are you doing up so early?"

Connor whirled on the spot to find Professor Lupin behind him, closer than he would have thought possible without being heard. "I woke up over an hour ago, and couldn't get back to sleep. I thought I might see if I could get breakfast now. How about you?"

"A rough transformation this time," he said, falling into step with his young nephew. "I missed my last draught of Wolfsbane, and so I felt it a bit more keenly than usual."

Connor looked concerned, and said, "You missed your potion?"

"Not to worry, Connor," Lupin assured him wearily. "I only missed the last of several doses. I wasn't out running wild."

Connor looked relieved. He had seen his Uncle in his transformed state before, though he had never witnessed the actual transformation into werewolf, and he knew that it was a very painful process, made more bearable by the potions he took before and after the full moon made its appearance. "Did you take your potions this morning yet?" he asked.

"Yes," he said. "Very early, since I have to wait an hour before I can eat after taking it. I'm ready for my breakfast, too. Let's go see what we can find."

Connor happily walked with is Uncle and was surprised when he was led not to the Great Hall, but to the portrait that led to the kitchens. The painting of a huge bowl of fruit hung over the entrance, and Lupin reached up and tickled the pear to unlock it. The portrait swung outward, and Connor followed his Uncle into the large room that closely mirrored the Great Hall with its four long tables. House Elves were scurrying about, each intent on performing their assigned chores, and Lupin smiled when an older female elf approached an bowed low.

"Good morning Master Lupin," she greeted him cheerfully. "Your breakfast is all prepared, sir!"

"Thank you, Rosy" Lupin replied warmly. "I have young Connor here to dine with me this time. Do you think you might be able to bring another place setting?"

"Of course!" she beamed at him. "Right this way."

Connor looked around at all of the activity in wonder. He had only ever come down here in between meals or late at night for a snack, when most of the work in the kitchens was done. He had never seen it bustling with this many Elves before, and it was quite a sight to behold. He followed Lupin and Rosy more slowly, trying not to get in the way, and finally came to sit across from his Uncle in a corner, away from all of the work in progress.

Lupin was already pouring out tea into their cups, and smiling at the look on Connor's face. He remembered the first time he had visited the kitchens during one of the busiest times of the day, and relived it again through his nephew's eyes. Finally Connor's stomach growled noisily once more, and he turned his attention to the food that had been piled onto the small table in front of them.

"So, Connor," Lupin said softly as he sipped his tea. "Have you been sleeping well? Had anymore dreams?"

"Just one," Connor admitted. He found it frustrating sometimes that he had such a hard time lying to those he loved. " This morning, actually."

Lupin remained calm, and his expression didn't change as he asked, "Was it the same as the others?"

"Yes and no," Connor said, wondering how much he should say. He didn't really want his parents to find out that he was still having the dreams, since his father would likely blame himself. "It seemed to be a different part of the same dream. There was a woman there." Connor winced as Lupin's face hardened into a stony mask. "Do you know who she was?"

Lupin nodded and said simply, "She was the one who killed Sirius."

Connor was stunned for a moment and then, uneasy about the expression on his Uncle's face, rushed to reassure him, not paying heed to what his next words might reveal. "No! It wasn't Bellatrix Lastrange! It was someone else, I've seen pictures of Bellatrix Lastrange before and this wasn't her."

Lupin regarded Connor thoughtfully for a moment silently, making Connor uncomfortable. He hated that he has brought such terrible memories to the surface, and wanted desperately to smooth things over. "I'm sorry, I never meant to...."

"It's all right, Connor." The older man was holding up his hand in a gesture of quiet, and said, more to himself than to Connor, "If it wasn't Bellatrix Lastrange, then who could it have been?"

"I don't know. Maybe you should ask my dad," Connor said. "They're supposed to his memories."

"Yes," Lupin said. "That's what Madam MacTaggart said, but I was there that night - or at the end of that night. The only woman who was there at that time was Bellatrix, unless you count Samantha Tillman."

"Did you say Tillman?" Connor asked in disbelief.

Lupin broke from his thoughts and sighed, obviously regretting saying that last line aloud. "Yes, Connor. Samantha Tillman was Andrew Tillman's grandmother, who worked at the Ministry of Magic when your father and his friends went there. It is believed that she was the one who allowed the Death Eaters access to certain, otherwise inaccessible, parts of the Ministry that night. She disappeared at that time, and no one ever saw her alive again."

Connor sat, eating his toast while he absorbed that bit of news.

"Connor," Lupin said firmly, making sure that he had eye contact before speaking again. "Andrew is having a hard time this year. He doesn't need to know that you're aware of his grandmother's affiliation with Death Eaters twenty years ago. I expect you to use proper discretion with this knowledge, do you understand?"

"I understand," Connor confirmed. "I actually spoke with Andrew this morning, and he told me that his father was unwell and had to go to St. Mungo's, so he has to stay here for Christmas. I asked him if he wanted to come home with me, but he said no."

"You're a good boy, Connor." Lupin said with a sad smile. "You're a good boy."