Foreshadowing the Past

Chapter 21

"You can discover what your enemy fears most by observing the means he uses to frighten you." -Eric Hoffer

Connor opened his eyes to the bright light of morning, and took a moment to remember exactly where he was, and why. His body ached terribly, and he had a vague memory of being force to drink more vile potions in the middle of the night when he had woken up in pain. Turning his head slightly, he was surprised to see his father sitting in the chair beside his bed, reading a copy of the Daily Prophet.

"Could I have a drink of water, please?" Connor asked quietly, his throat feeling raw.

His father instantly dropped his paper, and seeing that his son was awake, stood up and walked around the bed. He poured out a glass from the ewer by the bed, and carefully helped Connor sit up enough to sip from it.

"Better?" he asked as he eased Connor back onto the pillow.

Connor nodded, surprised at how weak he felt, and how much energy it had taken just to sit up and drink some water. "Feel tired," he said, glad that the words came out sounding normal instead of gravelly.

"I'll bet," his dad smiled. "Madam Cosgrove said that you'd be drained for the next day or so. Healing serious injuries takes up a lot of energy. How do you feel other than that?"

"Sore," he answered truthfully. "Did Mum go back home to teach her class?"

"No," his dad said. "She just went to get us some tea. Your friends stopped by to see you earlier, but you were still asleep. They said they'd be back at lunchtime." He motioned to a table at the end of the bed that had a bouquet of dewy flowers in a large beaker of water, and a card standing up beside it.

At the mention of lunch, Connor's stomach growled loudly, making his father chuckle. "I think that Madam Cosgrove went to arrange a meal for you. She should be back any minute."

Connor nodded gratefully and closed his eyes for a moment before looking back to his father's piercing gaze. "I'm sorry," he said quietly.

Harry's eyebrows raised in surprise. "What would you have to be sorry for?"

"For worrying you and Mum like this," Connor paused as he felt a lump form in his throat as he remembered his mother's tears the night before. "I could have ducked."

"Why didn't you?"

His father's voice was gentle, without the slightest hint of anger or accusation.

"I sort of knew it was going to happen, that something was going to come flying at me, and I didn't want any of them to get hurt. I told the others to go one ahead and pretended I needed to tie my shoe, hoping that there wouldn't be as many people around when it happened. I thought that if I ducked out of the way, someone else might have gotten hit, and if I shouted out or warned everyone or something, then everyone would know that I knew it was coming. I wasn't expecting it to be that big and heavy, though." Connor raised a hand to rub the side of his head where he had been hit.

"I'll bet you didn't." Madam Cosgrove has just entered the ward carrying a tray in her hands.

"I think that she has the hearing of a..." Connor began quietly to his father.

"I certainly do," she interrupted him as she approached. "There is very little in this ward that I don't know about."

"You do Madam Pomfrey proud," Harry told the nurse. "She had the ears of a fox, that one."

"I'll take that as a compliment, since she was my Aunt," Madam Cosgrove smiled. "And she told me all about you. Let's hope your son is a little less prone to injury, shall we?"

Harry smiled and nodded fervently. "Ready for something to eat?" he asked Connor, who was trying to sit up, sniffing hopefully at the air.

Madam Cosgrove and Harry used some pillows to prop Connor up into a sitting position, and then, much to Connor's disgust, the nurse made him take some more potions before he could start on the simple meal she'd brought him. With the worst of the ache chased away for a while, he was able to feed himself some soup adequately enough that his father retreated to his chair. At that moment, his Mum came into the ward, carrying another try loaded with a teapot and cups and some toast. She set the tray down on the table beside the next bed, and went over to fussed over her son for a moment before sitting in the empty chair beside her husband.

"So," his father said as his Mum poured out tea. "You knew that something was going to come at you, and you didn't try to avoid it because you were afraid that someone else would get hurt, and that your secret would come out."

Connor knew that it wasn't really a question, but that his father wanted his mother to know what they had spoken about in her absence. He nodded miserably anyway, setting down his spoon. "I guess it wasn't the smartest thing to do, huh?"

"I'm not sure how I feel about it, to be honest," his dad said seriously. "I was furious about it last night. Not at you, so much, but at the fact that it happened. I certainly would never have wished for you to end up here like this, but I can see now that you did at least think your options through and chose the one that seemed best to you. It takes a lot of courage to stand your ground, especially since you knew that there was a good chance you'd be hurt."

"That being said," his mother added with a gentle smile, handing a teacup to his dad. "Please don't do that again; you scared the life out me."

"Don't worry Mum," Connor said. "I don't want to go through this again in a hurry."

His parents encouraged him to finish his soup, and Professor McGonagall swept into the ward while they finished their meal and drew up a chair. They made small talk about how Connor was feeling and what his treatment thus far had been. They waited until he'd eaten as much as he could before continuing the subject of what had happened the night before.

"Connor," His mother said, vanishing the tray in front of him with a wave of her wand. "You said that you knew that something was going to happen last night. Do you know who did it?"

Connor nodded, looking at the three adults watching him expectantly. "I don't have any proof or anything," he said quietly. "But I knew who was behind it before it happened."

McGonagall's lips tightened, Ginny twitched, and Harry nodded to Connor in encouragement as he took his wife's hand in his in a placating gesture. "Who do you think it was?" his father asked him.

"Vanessa Malfoy," he said. "I think she was trying to force me to expose my secret."

Connor braced, sure that his Mum would explode into one of her rages of temper that she was usually so adept at controlling, but it never happened. To his surprise, his parents and McGonagall didn't seem surprised at all. "You knew?" he guessed.

"Right after you blacked out, everyone in the Entrance Hall started screaming," the Professor explained. "By the time the other teachers and myself had reached the scene, a few of the other students told us that Peeves had been responsible for the attack."

"Peeves?" Connor was confused. "That doesn't sound like him. He's rotten, yeah, but I've never seen him really hurt anyone before."

"Yes, well, when we questioned Peeves," Professor McGonagall said. "He gave us a very interesting story indeed. It seems that Miss Malfoy persuaded Peeves to participate in a little prank she wanted to pull, and had insisted that no one would be hurt, only frightened by it. I don't imagine it took much persuasion, and so he agreed to it, obviously with disastrous results."

"What did Vanessa have to say about it?" Connor asked, somewhat surprised that Vanessa had gone to so much trouble and risked so much to expose him.

"Miss Malfoy has inadvertently confessed," the Professor told him. "When she was confronted with Peeves' claims, she told us that you were suppose to duck, and that you were never supposed to get hurt."

"So what's going to happen now?" Connor asked uncertainly.

All of the adults studied him for a moment before his father said quietly, "We've all had a bit of a meeting, and we've decided that you will be the one to decide what will happen to her."

"Me?" Connor was stunned.

"It's very unorthodox, I'll admit, but you were the one hurt in all of this," the Headmistress said. "And after a very serious warning as to what could happen if she was involved in anything to do with you again. You, therefore, will be permitted to decide whether or not she should be allowed to remain a student at this school. If you decide to allow her to stay, she will be permanently stripped of her place on the Slytherin Quidditch team, and will serve no less than one hour's detention every night for the remainder of the school year."

"What would happen to her if she was expelled?" Connor asked, feeling as if she had just laid a two-ton weight on his chest. Did they really think that he wanted a responsibility like this?

"Then she would no longer be allowed to attend Hogwarts," she told him simply. "It is possible that her wand would be destroyed, but most likely it would be left up to her parents to decide whether or not to hire a private teacher or try to place her at another Wizarding school."

There was no hint of what she felt he should do in her voice, and so Connor simply nodded and lapsed into thought. "And if I don't want to be the one to decide?"

"Then the ultimate decision would lie with the school governing board and myself." She answered with no change in her tone.

Connor could tell that none of them wanted to influence him either way. He understood painfully clearly that this was his own decision to make, and they would abide by whatever he chose.

"I," Connor began. "I think I'll need some time to think it over."

"Of course," McGonagall said. Connor thought he detected a hint something like pride in her expression, but the next moment she was all business. "Miss Malfoy is with her parents right now, awaiting your decision; I will go an inform them that you need some time to consider the matter, and that you should have an answer for them by dinnertime?"

"Yes, ma'am," Connor answered, and watched her leave; aware that it hadn't really been a question and that she expected him to have made a decision by then. Connor looked to his parents, who looked thoughtful, but offered no other advice. "What do you think I so do?"

"I think you should do what your heart tells you," his Mum answered.

His father nodded. "We'll support whatever you decide, but the choice has to be yours."

"What if I don't want to decide?" Connor asked a bit desperately.

"Even deciding to leave it up to someone else is a choice," his father answered sagely. "Your Mum and I will leave you alone for a bit to think about it."

Connor nodded and accepted the kiss his mother planted on his cheek before they left the ward. He didn't see a bright side to any choice he made, and knew that he has some hard thinking to do.

'What would having Vanessa expelled accomplish?' he asked himself. He was determined to make a list of the good and the bad and make his decision based on that. 'Well for one, it would get her out of my hair. Life might be easier if I didn't have to constantly worry about watching out of her. But on the other hand, if she was expelled she would basically be free to tell anyone she wanted to about me; she could conceivably go to Daily Prophet and let the whole of the Wizarding World know all at once.' That option didn't hold a whole lot of appeal to him, and he wondered if Professor McGonagall or his parents had thought of this possibility.

What would life be like at school if she weren't expelled? The loss of Quidditch privileges for the next two and a half years and detention every night for the rest of this year probably wouldn't go a long way toward encouraging her harbor any warm and fuzzy feelings for him; if anything, it was bound to infuriate her even more. While she might not dare risk trying to expose him again, he was sure that she could endeavor to make his life unpleasant for him in dozens of little ways. It seemed like a no-win situation for both him and Vanessa either way he chose. He wondered with a bit of a twisted smile what everyone would say if he asked that she not be punished at all, and let things remain status quo. They would never go for that, and Connor knew that she deserved to be punished, and even if he asked for leniency, she would be harshly disciplined.

He was still mulling over all of the possible outcomes for all of his possible choices when he realized that he hadn't visited the loo in quite some time. Madam Cosgrove was not around at present, and he seemed to be in the hospital wing by himself, so he decided to try to make the trip by himself. Swinging his legs over the side of the bed, he slid slowly to his feet and gasped when his knees shook violently before they strengthened enough to support his weight. He felt as weak as he could ever remember feeling, and was grateful that the toilet was only a few away from the end of his bed. He felt slightly lightheaded and would like to have sat back down on the bed to rest, but his bladder was telling him that this was not an option, so he used the bed to support his first shaky steps. He moved to slowly across the space to the toilet, and shut the door behind him. Once his most pressing need was taken care of, Connor leaned heavily on the sink as he washed his hands and surveyed himself in the mirror.

He looked dreadful. Both of his eyes sported sickeningly yellowish green bruises around them, and an ugly paste was crusted over his temple and caked into some of his hair. The collarbone visible in the neck of pyjamas was an ugly purple. His ribs were tightly bandaged, and Connor realized that this was the reason his was having so much trouble catching his breath after the slightest effort on his part. His whole body ached, and but not quite enough for him to want to take any more potions to alleviate it. He was about to open the door to return to his bed, when he became aware of voices outside of it, and listened to see if perhaps his parents had returned and might be discussing the decision he was being asked to make, hoping to gain some insight to what they really thought. It wasn't his parents though, he discovered, hearing Ivy's voice telling the others that he must be in the loo. He took as deep a breath as the bandages around his ribs would allow and opened the door to find all of his friend's eyes trained on him.

"Should you be out of bed?" Ivy asked the minute she saw him.

"Well compared to the alternative, I'd say it was a necessary trip," Connor tried to joke, but he could feel his knees beginning to wobble again.

Zack and Quentin jumped forward when they saw how weak he truly was, each taking an arm helping their friend back to the bed.

"Geez, Connor!" Rachel said, looking slightly pale. "You look even worse now than you did last night!"

"Thanks so much," Connor groaned, grateful when Zack helped him swing his legs back up onto the mattress and threw the light blanket over him. "What's going on out there?" he gestured vaguely to the doors leading out into the school.

"Ordinary day for the most part," Ivy shrugged. "None of the professors asked where you were, so I guess they all know."

"No one's seen Vanessa all day, either," Rachel added. "Not since last night."

"Not even me," Quentin said. "I know that my parents are here, though. Aiden said that he saw them this morning."

"Did they tell you what happened?" Zack asked, sitting on the end of the bed while the others all drew up chairs.

Connor nodded. "They told me."

"What do you think will happen to Vanessa now?" Rachel asked curiously.

Quentin gave a little shrug, and wouldn't quite meet Connor's eyes. Connor wanted to say something to reassure his friend that he didn't blame him in the least, but didn't know what he could say without causing an embarrassing moment in front of the others.

"I don't think I've ever seen Professor Lupin look that angry," Ivy said with a slight shiver. "Vanessa looked for a minute like she was thinking of running for it, and Lupin just grabbed her arm and didn't even say anything; he just held her there and waited to see what Professor McGonagall was going to do next.

"I thought that McGonagall was going breath fire when Peeves told her who put him up to it. I'm surprised they don't already have her trunk at the front entrance, ready for her to go back home." Zack said. " I don't know what they're waiting for."

Connor took a deep breath and said quietly, "They're waiting for me."

All eyes, even Quentin's, turned to him in surprise.

"They're leaving it up to me to decide what's going to happen to her." Connor said miserably. He told them what his parents and the Headmistress had told him about letting him decide if Vanessa should stay or go.

"No offense, Quint," Zack said decisively. "But she should be expelled; she could have easily killed Connor."

Ivy nodded in agreement. "I'm sorry Quentin, but I agree."

"I know, guys," Quentin said in a flat, emotionless kind of voice. "I just can't believe that she actually did something this...." He seemed lost for words to describe how calculated, hateful and seemingly vicious his sister's actions had been. "At least if she's expelled, she won't be able to hurt anyone again." He seemed resigned to the fact that his sister was facing one of the worst punishments that Hogwarts could dole out, and he wasn't sure how to feel about it.

"It's more complicated than that," Connor said seriously. He turned to Rachel and said, "What do you think about it?"

"Well," she said, considering the matter. "Expulsion has it's own risks, doesn't it? I mean, once she leaves here, what's to stop her from telling anyone she wants about your talents? I mean it's not exactly against the law to talk to people, is it? I suppose you could appeal to the Wizengamot to have a magical restraint put on her, making her legally liable for any damages to you if she does tell anyone, but seeing as neither of you are of age..."

"And if you don't have her expelled, there'll be no living with her," Zack said. "It would be like she got away with it."

"Not exactly," Connor sighed. "If she gets to stay, she'll be banned from Quidditch - for good - plus detentions every day for the rest of the year. That should cheer her up, eh?

Comprehension of just how difficult Connor's decision really was began to dawn on the others as Rachel basically outlined all of the thoughts on the subject that he had already had. He was just about to ask Quentin what he thought he should do, when the doors to the ward opened, and Madam Cosgrove bustled in with a large tray of sandwiches and a large pitcher of pumpkin juice for them all. Everyone took a sandwich, but Connor only nibbled on his, and Quentin just shredded his, none of it making it all the way into his mouth. Before the two boys got a chance to really talk about it, though, it was time for them all to leave for their afternoon classes.

Connor called to Quentin, as he was about to go through to door. "Quint! Come back and talk to me later, okay?"

Quentin looked slightly green, but nodded silently as he left for his class.

Connor was just about to settle back and doze off a few minutes later, when the door to the ward opened once more, and Connor was surprised to see Quentin's walked in and walked over to the seat his son had only recently vacated.

"Hello, Connor," he said quietly. "Can we have a talk?"

Connor nodded nervously, and Mr. Malfoy sat down. "Professor McGonagall told me that you should be well enough to leave the Hospital wing in a day or two. I'm glad that you're doing better; I can't begin to tell you how sorry I am that this happened at all. I've spoken with Vanessa, and she's with her Mum now."

Connor wasn't quite sure what to say about this. He knew that his father had always been mistrustful of Draco Malfoy, but Quentin was his best mate, and he knew his own father better than that. On the other hand, his oldest child seemed to be evil incarnate....

"I came to see you, because I wanted to tell something," Mr. Malfoy said kindly. "Professor McGonagall and your parents told us about your precognitive abilities, no don't panic, they thought that I needed to know in order to understand how serious the situation is, and we've sworn not to tell anyone else. We understand how important keeping a secret is and what it could mean if it were to become general knowledge. In fact, it was my suggestion and idea to leave the outcome Vanessa's punishment up to you, well, mine and Monique's - that's Mrs. Malfoy, in the hopes that it would help Vanessa understand as well."

"It was?" Connor was incredulous. How thick could a person get? His daughter practically took his head off in a stupid revenge plot, and he just hands over her fate to the very person she had attacked?

"It was," he confirmed, smiling slightly at the boy's reaction. He sobered quickly enough, and said, "I wanted to come and talk to you, not to excuse Vanessa's behavior, but to tell you a little bit about her. I thought that maybe it might help you make your decision one way or the other."

Connor didn't know how much Quentin's dad could say that he didn't already know, but was willing to listen. He wondered if he was now regretting his suggestion to leave such an important decision in his hands. "Okay," he said cautiously.

"Vanessa was, er, is a very intelligent girl," he began. "But I'm afraid that she's been spoiled since she was a baby."

Connor didn't find this very hard to believe. Quentin was always talking about how Vanessa could always talk her parents into doing or getting her anything she wanted, and from what Connor had observed it appeared to be true. She always appeared to carry herself with an air of superiority and disdain when Connor or his friends were around, even going so far as to insult her own brother for any and all to hear.

"Vanessa is actually very much like I was at her age," he continued. He smiled again at the stunned expression on the boy's face. "You weren't expecting me to say that, were you? Well, it's true. I was spoiled and spiteful and woefully misinformed about certain things, and shared something else in common with her as well: I hated a Potter."

Connor nodded. He knew all about the rivalry that had once existed between his father and this man. He strongly suspected that they still weren't remotely fond of each other, but they had developed a grudging respect and tolerance for one another. Uncle Ron always seemed glad to reminisce about their school days and all of the times that Connor's dad had bested Draco Malfoy in one thing of another.

"The feeling was definitely mutual," Mr. Malfoy chuckled briefly, seemingly staring off into the past for a few moments before coming back to himself and becoming serious again. "We disliked each other at first sight, and did everything we could to get under each other's skin. I had been raised to despise and look down upon others I had been taught were below me, and wasn't mature enough at the time to question any of that for myself and come to my own conclusions. That was a long and hard lesson for me to learn, and I don't want to see my daughter struggle the way I did or suffer the way I did to learn it herself. She wasn't raised to hate the way I was, and yet I can't help but see that she's following the same path that I did as if it were an inherent trait. Her mother and I have both tried very hard raise our children better than the way I, and to a lesser extent, Monique was raised; Vanessa hasn't seemed to take the lessons we've taught her to heart, though. It's almost as if there's some sort of ghost from the past whispering into her ear the exact opposite of every value we've tried to instill in her."

Mr. Malfoy's eyes had taken on a slightly glazed appearance, and Connor wondered if her were still talking to him, or to himself. He sounded more like he was narrating a story than trying to help Connor understand anything any better.

"Well," Connor said without really thinking it through. "There kind of is, isn't there?"

"What do you mean?" Mr. Malfoy had asked at once, slightly wary.

"Well Quentin was telling me about how Vanessa was giving him a hard time over the holiday," Connor answered, hoping that he wasn't about to get his friend into trouble. "He said that she'd been spending time up in your attic, talking to a portrait of Bellatrix Lastrange. I mean," Connor was uncomfortable now, but forced himself to finish, "She was a Death Eater and all."

Mr. Malfoy stared absently at Connor for so long, that Connor began to feel uncomfortable. The ward was very quiet except for the ticking of an unseen clock, and it wasn't until a gonging bell signaled the end of the first afternoon class that Mr. Malfoy seemed to snap out of his reverie.

"I'm sorry," he apologized, becoming aware that he had drifted off on a train of thought. "I wasn't aware that a portrait of my aunt still existed; that would certainly explain a great many things. The whole point of my coming here and telling you all of this, was to help you to see that we know that Vanessa was wrong to do what she did, and it would have been wrong, even if you hadn't been hurt. I will see to it that no matter what decision you make, she abides by our promise to keep your secret safe."

"What would you do if she was expelled?" Connor asked suddenly.

"I don't honestly know," Mr. Malfoy replied, not seeming to be shaken by the question. "Just about every other student ever expelled from Hogwarts has had their wand destroyed. We would probably have to petition the Ministry to allow her to keep her wand and to seek other avenues for her education."

What does Vanessa want me to do?" Connor asked.

Mr. Malfoy studied Connor with an unreadable expression before saying, "I'm not sure she knows. Last night she was pretty worked up, and when Professor McGonagall told her that she could very well be expelled, she was defiant. This morning she had cooked up some idea in her head that she might be able to leave Hogwarts and start over in a new school like Beauxbatons or Durmstrang, and seemed quite pleased with herself for coming up with a solution."

Connor snorted. He could very well imagine Vanessa announcing her intention of shaking the dust of Hogwarts off of her robes and starting a new, glamorous life in France or someplace where no one knew her yet.

"Yes, well," Mr. Malfoy seemed amused by Connor's derision. "We disabused her of that notion pretty quickly by pointing out that she would have to submit an application and recommendations from the Headmistress of this school to transfer to another, and that it was unlikely that they would want to take a student who had a record of attacking others. We were also very careful to assure her that that was even if she was allowed to retain a wand; and we might have been a little over-dramatic in our assertions that she may well end up having to learn how to live like a Muggle."

"So she wanted to be expelled before she found out how difficult it might be," Connor clarified. "But now she wants to stay?"

"I don't know if she wants to stay," Mr. Malfoy said honestly. "No Quidditch until she leaves school and detention for the rest of the year is a bitter pill to swallow, since she's still not entirely convinced that she did anything terrible. But she certainly doesn't want to find out what might happen to her if she has to figure out what to do with her life if she's expelled. Her mother and I have made it clear that if you decide to have her removed from the school, it will be up to her to take the necessary steps to petition the Ministry for a wand and an allowance to continue her education."

"So she doesn't think that what she did was wrong?" Connor asked quietly. That thought was disturbing to him.

"I'm not sure at this point. She knows that it was wrong, as in against the rules, but she seems to think that it was justified on her part, and that it wasn't as bad as everyone is making it out to be, because she never intended for you to me injured."

"Did she ever say why it's so important to her to tell everyone about me?"

"No," Mr. Malfoy replied with the softest of sighs. "I don't know if she knows herself. She was certainly angry about her punishment earlier in the year, so it may have been to simply get back at you. It could also be the meddling of a hateful portrait, trying to cause trouble for the son of her arch nemesis."

Connor was impressed with the open and honest answers that he was receiving from Mr. Malfoy. He had not expected him to be so calm and understanding of it all; he had kind of expected him to stand up for his daughter and make justifications for her behavior, but he hadn't.

"What do you want for Vanessa, Mr. Malfoy?" Connor asked.

"More things than I could ever list," came the reply. "But for now, she needs to learn to live up to her potential and accept responsibility for her actions. I intend to see to it that she does that no matter what decision you make today."

Connor nodded and sank into thought, and Mr. Malfoy sat politely and waited to hear what the young man in the bed in front of him would say next. After a few moments, he opened his mouth, and was almost surprised to hear himself say, "I'm going to ask Professor McGonagall to let her stay."

"Thank you," Mr. Malfoy said solemnly. "What was it that made up your mind?"

"I'm not sure," Connor said honestly, then added with a hint of mischief. "Part of me wanted her gone, but another part wanted to see her suffer through detention every day."

"Those will be the least of her worries if she doesn't shape up," Mr. Malfoy said darkly. "I appreciate that you took the time to listen to what I had to say, and that you didn't just make your decision out of anger; you thought it through, and I couldn't have hoped for more. You really are very much like your father."

"I was surprised that you wanted to talk to me," Connor admitted, a little embarrassed at the praise, and pleased with the comparison to his father. "I didn't think you'd want to..."

"Because of me and your father?" he finished. "I thought I'd have a hard time of it myself; you look almost exactly like him, except that you don't wear glasses. I guess that I just talked to you the way I would have done with Quentin, and it was easy. He's lucky to have you for a friend."

"Thank you," Connor felt the heat rising to his cheeks. "He's a great friend."

Mr. Malfoy shook Connor's hand and thanked him again, telling him to get well very soon, and departed, saying he had a portrait to destroy when he got home. Connor reflected on their conversation, and felt relieved to have made the decision, but worried about what consequences it might bring. Feeling tired, Connor decided to rest while he waited for the end of classes, hoping his friends would return, and fell into a deep sleep within minutes.