Foreshadowing the Past

Chapter 29

"The best way to predict the future is to invent it." - Alan Kay

Connor spent the latter half of day on the Quidditch pitch training hard with the rest of the team. He hated having to wear the robes that marked him as a reserve, but he was pleased to see that Carolyn Scott had been taking her role in the next match very seriously and was working hard to develop a good rhythm with the other chasers. She still got distracted too easily by the bludgers when they got near, but she had excellent aim for scoring goals. Connor made a note to set up a little extra time for Carolyn to work with the beaters, to build her confidence. By the end of practice, both of them were tired, but happy with the continued progress they were making.

That night before bed, Connor was still thinking about everything he had told his friends and how enthusiastic they had seemed to be planning a grand adventure. As he pulled on his pajamas, he had a nagging feeling of guilt over automatically including them in the plans to go to the Ministry. Hadn't Professor Dumbledore just warned him about leading his friends into danger unnecessarily? The more he thought about his dream, the more it seemed that taking his friends along with him to the Ministry of Magic in the middle of the night was a huge risk that could only end in disaster. What if any or all of them got caught? He hadn't dreamed anything at all that told him that his friends really needed to be there with him. It might very well be safer and less trouble if he were to go alone. Certainly there would be less of a chance of discovery if just one twelve-year-old wizard snuck in, compared to five.

He grabbed his toiletry bag and headed for the bathroom to brush he teeth before going to bed. The room was deserted except for Andrew and a couple of first years that Connor only vaguely recognized. When the first year boys saw him, they hurriedly packed up their own toothbrushes and hurried out of the room, obviously afraid of incurring his wrath or a punishment for saying the wrong thing around him. He sighed heavily.

"You're probably going to get a lot of that for a while," Andrew said as he patted his face dry with a towel.

"I know," Connor nodded sullenly, unzipping his back and taking out his toothbrush. "I'll be the resident freak until somebody else comes up with something to top it."

"That's not really likely to happen, is it?" Andrew said less than encouragingly.

"Probably not," Connor agreed.

"I guess now I know how you managed to turn my homework prank around on me," Andrew reflected without any bitterness in his voice.

Connor smiled sheepishly at the other boy, and Andrew snorted.

"So," Connor said after he finished brushing his teeth. "How is your father? Has he been released from St. Mungo's yet?"

Andrew stiffened for a moment before he realized that Connor was being sincere. "He's doing better. He got out of St. Mungo's a couple of weeks ago, and is back at home resting."

"That's good," Connor said. "You seemed really worried about him at Christmas."

"I was," Andrew admitted. "But hopefully he's truly on the mend this time."

Connor nodded and the other boy zipped up his toiletry bag and departed, leaving Connor to wonder if it really was Andrew's grandmother he was going to try to catch in the Department of Mysteries. Who else could it be? What would having his mother captured alive after twenty years do to Andrew's father? Would it send him to the brink of madness again?

'This is all way more complicated than I counted on,' Connor thought to himself as he left the bathroom.

He went back to his room to find that Quentin and Zack were in bed, and both had their noses buried in enormous books.

"What are you two doing?" he asked them as he climbed into his own bed.

"I'm reading up on the rules of Quidditch," Quentin answered. "And Zack is looking for any laws pertaining to clairvoyants or precognitive abilities."

"Because...?" Connor prompted.

"To find a way to get you back on the team, of course!" Quentin answered. "The game against Hufflepuff is less than a week away!"

"I appreciate it guys," Connor said, his mood sinking. "But you heard Mariah. Professor Lupin doesn't think that we're gong to come up with anything in time for this game."

"That doesn't mean we have to quit trying!" Zack said.

"I know," Connor said. "But maybe it's better if I don't play."

"What?" Quentin sounded scandalized.

"Why?" Zack asked at precisely the same moment.

"Well our last game was really close," Connor said. He had given this quite a bit of thought while he had been training with Carolyn. "And now you know the Slytherins are going to try to get it thrown out because I was the one who made the last goal that saved it for us. They'll say that I 'knew' that the snitch was coming out, and that it gave us an unfair advantage; it won't matter that it's rubbish. But if I don't play in this game, against the team that won the cup last year, and we still beat them, no one can say anything about our team not being the best, with or without me."

"I don't like it," Quentin said stubbornly.

"But you know it makes sense," Connor said. "Better to remove all doubt then have everyone saying we cheated. When I get back on the team, I'm of half a mind to challenge the Slytherins to another game, just so we can beat them again."

That made Quentin smile a bit, and Zack and he reluctantly put their books away for the night. Andrew had sat on his bed listening to the whole exchange, but saying nothing as he, too, flipped through the pages of a large book, though Connor doubted he was trying to help find a way to restore Connor's place on the team.

"Good night everyone." Connor yawned, and the other three boys bid him the same, and the lights were turned out a moment later. It only took a few moments before Connor was fast asleep.

The next morning was a quiet one. The students who had spent the previous day at Hogsmeade slept in late, and so the Great Hall wasn't very crowded. There were a few post owls that fluttered in, and Connor was pleased to see one of his father's owls land and drop a small bundle of parchment for him, and noted that Zack's owl, Godric had delivered a package for his friend. Both owls departed once they had received a treat from the boys, and Connor opened his packet of parchment to find letters from his siblings and one from each of his parents. He refolded them and tucked them into his pocket for later. Looking over at Zack, he noted that Quentin and Ivy were particularly interested in what Godric had just delivered.

"What have you got there, Zack?" Connor asked curiously, seeing his friend opening a strange box that looked like it was made of a rubbery sort of glass. He vaguely recalled seeing something like it before, and that it was called something like plack-tick. Rachel was tapping at the box with her finger as Zack pried it open. It seemed to be hinged along one side, though no hinges could be seen. "What's that thing made out of?"

"It's a plastic pencil box," Zack said with a chuckle.

"Weird," Quentin said, eyeing the blue 'plastic' from his seat next to Zack. "What does it do?"

"Nothing, really. It's just a box," Zack shrugged, amused. "Right now it's full of pens. I asked my Mum to send some. I was telling Connor about them over Christmas."

"Oh yeah!" Connor remembered now. Zack had told him about how enthralled his father had been over his quills and ink, and that Mr. Ellis used a pen to do all of his writing.

"What's a pen do?" Ivy asked.

"It writes," Rachel answered. "I saw Grandma Granger use one once. It was really quite fascinating."

"How does it work?" Quentin wanted to know.

"Well this kind," Zack said, withdrawing an ordinary ball-point pen. "This kind has a tube inside that's full of ink. There's a little ball at the tip that rolls across the surface of the paper, and collects ink from inside as it rolls, leaving a trail. Here, look."

He pulled a scrap piece of parchment out of his pocket and demonstrated how to use the pen, laughing when his friends all sat, transfixed at the sight.

"Brilliant!" Connor said. "I wonder why we don't use these?"

"It is very interesting," Ivy conceded. "But just look at how pale and skinny the line is! It just doesn't have the flow that a quill does."

"Could I try one?" Connor asked eagerly.

"Sure!" Zack laughed. "My mum sent a whole package of them. Says there's a dozen in here. Enough for you all to have one if you want."

All of them took one of the pens excitedly and scribbled their names on the same scrap of parchment, their faces aglow with enthusiasm.

"What else have you got there?" Connor asked, noting that the 'plastic' box wasn't empty. It really was a strange material, not as clear as glass, but still see-though.

"Some markers." Zack grinned. "They're basically the same concept as the other pens, only the tip is made of felt soaked in different colors of ink."

He took a multicolored handful from the box, and pulled the cap off of a blue one to show them how it worked. Again intrigued by this new device, the others each picked up one of the markers and experimented with them on the now ink-covered parchment.

"You said your parents sent these?" Quentin asked. "I thought they were Muggles."

"They are." Zack frowned, confused as to why this would make a difference.

"Then how'd they get something called a 'Magic Marker'?" he asked seriously, reading the words on the packaging. "And how come none of us have ever heard of them? What do they do that's magic?"

Zack was stumped for a moment as to how to explain the Muggle perception of Magic and why the markers were called magic, when in fact, they were an entirely Muggle device. He finally explained it all to his friends who simply shook their heads in amusement and fished around in their pockets for more parchment to experiment on. Zack made a mental note to thank his mother for the large assortment of pens and markers she had sent; he had a feeling that they would be put to a lot of use in the next couple of days as his friends enjoyed their novelty. In fact, they stayed at their table so long, that they attracted a bit of a crowd as the other Gryffindors came over to see what all the fuss was about; so much of a crowd, that Professor Lupin came over to investigate.

He was highly amused by the kid's reactions to the Muggle artifacts, and explained to Connor that he had seen such things many times before, having grown up with a Muggle parent, and living his early years with one foot in the Magical and one in the Muggle world. The professor looked tired, but in good spirits, and took the time to have a few quiet words with Connor while the rest of the kids were preoccupied.

"I'm sorry I didn't get a chance to talk to you about he Quidditch suspension before now," he apologized to the younger boy. "There were so many things to do before the full moon this time, and not enough hours to do them all. Please believe me when I say that I fought this decision, and will continue to fight it. We will find a solution."

"I know," Connor said gently. "Quentin and Zack were reading books last night looking for a solution, and I'm sure the others are as well. I wrote my folks, too. Wish I had remembered to ask Professor Dumbledore before he left..."

"Professor Dumbledore was here?" Professor Lupin asked, surprise evident in his face. "When?"

"It was Wednesday night, er, after hours. Thursday morning, really," Connor answered sheepishly. "I was coming back from the Owlery and met him in the hallway."

"What did he have to say?" the professor asked curiously, ignoring the fact that Connor had just admitted to breaking curfew.

Connor thought it a bit odd that his uncle hadn't known that the previous headmaster had been at the school, though he had just finished telling him that he had been extremely busy last week. "Not too much. Mostly we just talked. He walked me back to Gryffindor Tower and told me a bit about the portraits along the way. He said that he'd gotten a letter from my dad and we talked a bit about my dreams, but not much else. He let me into the portrait hole and left."

Remus Lupin knew that Dumbledore could glean more information from an idle conversation then most wizards could from an autobiography of the man he was talking to. He doubted that Connor was aware of everything he had probably given away to the old wizard while they 'just talked' and walked the halls. He wondered what Dumbledore's impressions of young Connor had been, and if he had even stopped in to talk to Minerva or Severus before departing. The last he had heard from Dumbledore, he had been living in Switzerland for a few months, visiting with a great grand niece or some such relative, who was studying rare minerals in the mountains there. Harry must have written a compelling letter on his son's behalf to bring Albus all the way back to Scotland for an hour's visit with the boy. Letting nothing of his amazement show, Remus patted Connor's shoulder and reassured him again that he would be working to get him back on the Quidditch team before retiring to his office to grade some papers before classes tomorrow.

Connor spent the morning in the common room, watching with Zack as the other Gryffindors used the 'magic' markers to color happily on any bit of parchment they could lay their hands on. He read his letters from home and basked in the warmth of his family's indignation over his Quidditch ban, and laughed at the things that Lucy had said she would like to do to Vanessa Malfoy, given the chance. His parents had more practical advice for him, telling him to keep practicing with the team and that they would think of a way to convince the other teams that his precognitive abilities posed no threat to anyone's chances of winning. His father mentioned briefly that he'd had a letter from Dumbledore, and that it had put his mind at ease, though Connor wasn't quite sure he understood why. Perhaps the old wizard hadn't told his parents about his belief the Connor was seeing the future, or maybe he had just let them know that he had warned Connor against acting rashly. At any rate, Connor was glad that his parents weren't as worried as they had been before, and he silently sent out thanks to Professor Dumbledore for whatever he had seen fit to tell his parents.

The rest of the day after lunch was spent on his broom, out with Carolyn Scott and Aiden and Ivy, who had agreed to help beat bludgers at them as they traveled up and down a stretch of grass at the far edge of the lake. The Hufflepuff team had commandeered the Quidditch pitch for the day, leaving the Gryffindors to practice as best they could. A light but steady rain had begun to fall in mid afternoon, and so they retired to their common room, secure in the knowledge that Carolyn would be able to ignore the bludgers enough to concentrate on the Quaffle during the match next Saturday.

Sunday night was committed to finishing homework assignments at the last minute, and revising for the impromptu test that Connor advised them would be sprung on the second year students in potions the next morning.

Connor slept well that night, with no discernible dreams of any kind. He woke in the morning in a fairly good mood, all things considered, and collected his potions and charms books. He followed his friends out of the portrait hole to go and have breakfast before facing the upcoming potions test, and looked forward to another afternoon of Quidditch practice, eager to help show the other house teams that Gryffindor didn't need precognition to beat them on the pitch.

The Great Hall was noisier than usual, and Connor looked around to see that many people were reading copies of the Daily Prophet, or else reading over the shoulders of other students that had a copy.

"What's going on?" Connor asked Aiden, who had a copy of the paper in his hands as they passed him and sat down at the table.

Before Aiden had a chance to answer, however, several owls landed before Connor, or else dropped their letters onto his empty plate as they swooped over his head and out of the Great Hall again. He didn't recognize any of the owls, and so was confused as to the nature of all of the deliveries. He quickly untied the letters from as many as they could, just to get the owls off of the table and away from him; they were causing a mess in their eagerness to complete their deliveries. Finally Rachel and the others helped him to dispatch the birds, and Connor was left with a pile of at least two-dozen letters, all addressed to him.

"What is going on?" he asked again, looking around at the rest of the students staring back at him.

Without a word, Aiden simply held up his copy of the Daily Prophet and showed him the headline.

Harry Potter's Son A Seer?

Connor groaned and snatched the paper out of his cousin's hands, vaguely aware that Professors McGonagall and Lupin were approaching him.

"Could the eldest son of the famous Harry Potter be a seer? This Daily Prophet reporter has recently received several owls from parents of Hogwarts students, and some current students, reporting that Connor James Potter, a second year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry and son of the famous Harry Potter can, indeed, predict the future! From accounts of many of the students at the school, young Connor saved the life of a first year student who nearly plummeted to her death from the topmost tower of the school during an Astronomy lesson. Sources say that the girl would most assuredly have died had Connor not suddenly appeared shortly after midnight to raise the alarm, leading two prefects, a close friend, and a professor in performing a levitation charm to halt the girl's fall.

It soon became evident to this reporter that there was a cover-up about young Mr. Potter's talents in progress at the school, where students have evidently been warned against approaching Connor regarding his abilities. One student reported that they had been threatened with an outrageous amount of house point deductions and month-long detentions if any of them were caught even speaking to Connor about his recently exposed aptitude for predicting the future.

Despite the fact that Connor has repeatedly denied that he can see the future, further proof of his abilities can been found in the fact that he has recently been banned from the Gryffindor House Quidditch team where he had a place as a chaser. Headmistress Minerva McGonagall was forced last week to suspend Connor from playing, due to the fact that his ability to see the future would certainly give his team an unfair advantage over the other Hogwarts houses.

One can only wonder what other talents the Potter family is hiding about their son. Harry Potter, famous for his defeat of the Dark Wizard, You-Know-Who, has long been said to be one of the most powerfully magical wizards alive today. Is it any wonder that his children should begin to exhibit strong magical abilities as well? Harry Potter and his wife, Ginevra are parents to four children; we can only wonder what is being kept from the general Wizarding public about any of them."

Connor finished reading the last paragraph of article that he could stomach aloud to his friends. He had steadily become angrier as he read, and finally gave up in disgust, though there were a few more paragraphs of made-up drivel left in the column.

"Connor," Professor Lupin was standing behind him, as was Professor McGonagall. They had been waiting for him to finish reading.

"Well I don't have to guess what these are all about, do I?" Connor said sourly, gesturing to the pile of recently delivered letters.

"I guess not," Professor Lupin answered. "Why don't you let us take these away for now? Professor McGonagall and myself will sort through them and write appropriate responses to the requests or any that are just plain... mean spirited."

Professor McGonagall nodded and began to gather up the stack of letters. "Go on and have some breakfast," she told the table in general. "Classes will begin soon."

Lupin put a hand on Connor shoulder and leaned down to say quietly in his ear, "Come and see me after classes. I may have a solution to the Quidditch suspension at least."

Connor nodded, and even though his appetite had fled, he forced himself to eat some toast before heading down to the dungeons, whispers of other students following him as he went.

The potions test wasn't as bad as Connor had expected, and he knew that he had gotten full marks for it. In the hallway, between the dungeon and the Charms classroom, Connor was subjected to more whispering, and a few of the braver student who were unhappy with him tried to trip him as he walked or made rude comments. One student actually tried to hex him as he stood waiting for Professor Flitwick to arrive and let them all into the classroom. Luckily, as he had demonstrated in Defense Against the Dark Arts classes, he sensed that the hex was coming and easily dodged it, causing even more excited whispers amongst the witnesses. Zack only just refrained from hexing the student back, and was rewarded for his restraint when a Ravenclaw prefect stopped the boy and issued him a detention and docked points from his house. To be fair, there were a few other students who smiled encouragingly at Connor in the hallway, and one or two whispered nice things to him as they passed.

At lunch, more letters arrived, and Connor merely picked his way through the stack to make sure that none of them were from his family, and set the stack aside. It wasn't until no less than three large owls delivered a large box bearing the logo for Honeydukes Sweetshop that Connor became curious enough to open any of his mail.

"So you think it's really from Honeydukes?" Quentin asked as Connor stared at it.

He shrugged and looked to the head table to see that Professor McGonagall was already hurrying over to him, obviously worried that the box might contain something unpleasant. She took the stack of letters and the box away into a small antechamber behind the head table, and returned a few minutes later with the box opened and a smile on her face.

"These are for you Mr. Potter," she said, setting the box full of sweets in front of him, along with an open letter. "And deservedly so. Good day."

"Wow, Con!" Aiden said, peering into the box to see about a hundred packages of chocolate frogs and Fizzing Whizbees and others of his favorites. "Who sent you that?"

Connor picked up the opened letter and began to read, a smile growing on his face as he did so. "It's from Mr. and Mrs. Green, thanking me for saving their daughter. Mr. Green works for the confectioner that makes the chocolate frogs." Connor's eyes drifted up and down the Ravenclaw table until he spotted Cicely, sitting with her cousin Sharon Whitaker, both of whom were watching him with happy grins. They waved to him in acknowledgment, and went back to their lunch once he waved back.

"It's about time you got some thanks out of all of this," Rachel muttered, clearly not talking about the sweets, but the letter that she was currently reading that had come along with the gift.

Connor shared his sweets with his cousins and friends, and then took the remainder of them up to his room to put in his cupboard. He retrieved his transfiguration book and sighed with relief that he only had one class left to the afternoon, and then he would be free until his midnight Astronomy lesson. He walked to transfiguration wondering if Professor Lupin would have a class for the final hour of the day while Connor was free; he was anxious to hear about the Professor's possible solution to his Quidditch woes.

"Where are you going, Con?" Ivy asked him as they left the Transfiguration classroom and he began to turn the opposite direction from them.

"Lupin wanted to see me after classes," he said with a shrug, not wanting to answer any questions until after he had talked to the professor. "I'll see you later at practice."

He made his way through the corridors, ignoring the stares of others as he made his way toward the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom. To his relief, he found that Professor Lupin appeared to be finished teaching for the afternoon, and was covering a large tank full of murky brown water as Connor walked in.

"Connor!" he greeted the boy cheerfully. "Come on up to my office. Would you like some tea?"

"Yes, please," Connor said, following the professor up the steps. He knew that the offer of tea also came with the iced oatmeal biscuits he favored, and he was hungry.

Pleased when the professor offered him the biscuits, Connor took one and waited while the tea was made. Professor Lupin's desk was piled high with papers, and he guessed that the older man had fallen behind in his work due to the full moon.

"I see you've spotted your mail," Professor Lupin said lightly, noticing the direction of his gaze. "I've only had a chance to look through about a third of it. Professor McGonagall has a stack that she is working on as well, though there's bound to be more over the coming days. There are actually a few that you might be interested in reading. There are some out there who are supportive and kind, you know; they're not all opportunists." Connor made a non-committal noise and accepted his teacup, and Lupin sat across from him and pulled out an envelope from the stack and handed it over to Connor. "That one is from Madam MacTaggart. I didn't read it, as I figured that it wouldn't have any requests for the out come of the Cannons versus the Magpies."

Connor rolled his eyes at the professor's attempt at humor and pocketed the letter. "You said that you thought you had a solution to my Quidditch suspension?"

"Yes, of course," the older man said. "Straight down to business. The match is only a few days away, now, isn't it?"

"Yeah," Connor agreed. "But I won't be playing in it."

"Don't be so sure," Lupin said encouragingly.

"No," Connor said firmly. "I won't be playing in it. We want the whole school to see that we can still beat them, no matter who's playing for Gryffindor."

Lupin studied him over the rim of his teacup as he sipped and nodded slowly. "I'm impressed, Connor. In fact, I think that it's an excellent idea, strategically, though it probably feels lousy from where you're sitting. At any rate, it would give me more time to properly word the contract."

"Contract?" Connor's eyebrows contracted, making a deep furrow in his brow, and if he had known it, reminded Remus forcefully his father at that age.

"Yes," Lupin replied in a satisfied sort of voice. "A magically binding contract, in fact, that will state something to the effect that you will not use your abilities to boost Gryffindor's chances of winning at Quidditch. It will have to be carefully worded so that there can be no mistake, and there would need to be a charm of some sort cast on it. Say, if you were to use precognition to alter the outcome of a match, then the charm would come into effect and turn you purple and Gryffindor would have to forfeit the match. Something along those lines."

Connor felt a genuine smile tugging at his lips, and couldn't help but grin.

"So Professor Lupin is going to write up a contract that you'll have to sign, saying that you won't use your abilities to win, and if you do you'll turn purple?" Rachel asked, highly amused. "Literally?"

"That pretty much sums it up," Connor said. He had caught up with his friends in the common room, and was tugging on his boots so that he could get down to the Quidditch pitch for the practice that would take place right after everyone else got out of classes for the day. He was glad that he would only have to wear a reserve player's robes for a few more days if all went well. "He said that he actually got the idea from a charmed parchment that your mum made back when she was at Hogwarts, Rachel."

"Sounds brilliant to me," Zack said, relieved to see something happening in Connor's favor for a change.

"It's still a shame that you won't be playing against Hufflepuff," Quentin sulked. "Carolyn's good and all, but not as good as you."

"She'll be pretty darn close by the game on Saturday," Connor promised. "Even if it kills us both! I'm going to drill her today on switching up the plays to keep the Hufflepuffs off balance. You and Amanda will be able to signal her in to which plays you're doing."

They took their time traveling down to the pitch as the bell to signal the end of classes was ringing.

"So," Ivy said as they walked across the wet grass together. "When are we all going to plan our trip to the Ministry of Magic?"

Quentin looked over at Connor with interest, and Connor shrugged uncomfortably. "I'm not so sure we should," he said. "I've been thinking..."

"Whoa!" Quentin held up a hand and stopped them in their tracks. "If you think you're going by yourself, think again."

"No way, Connor!" Ivy scolded. "If you go, we all go!"

"You know," Quentin said reluctantly. "We could just tell an adult. Lupin or McGonagall would be able to make sure someone was there to catch Samantha Tillman, and we wouldn't have to risk getting into trouble." He hadn't forgotten how disappointed his parents had been in Vanessa when she had gotten into so much trouble."

Connor bit his lip and said, "I did think of that, but then changed my mind."

"Why?" Ivy asked curiously, though she was secretly pleased. She was eager to have an adventure like the ones she had heard her father tell her he had been involved in during his school years. Encountering three headed dogs in forbidden corridors in the middle of the night, joining secret defense clubs, discovering that he had been using the wrong wand for five years and getting a new one that boosted his magical abilities by half... she wanted to have stories like that to tell to her own children.

"Well I got to thinking about it," Connor answered. "What if telling an adult changes something about what I saw? What if she somehow finds out that people are going to be there waiting for her and she decides not to show up? What if they screw it up somehow? There must be a reason I saw those things and not someone else, doesn't there?"

"That does make some sense," Quentin agreed. "But that just reinforces what I said before about you going alone. You saw all of us there; what would happen if you left us behind, and it turned out that one of us was supposed to do something important? That could ruin everything as well."

Connor had not really thought of that, and did not have a response. Quentin and Ivy smiled at each other over their victory, and urged Connor down to the Quidditch pitch for practice.

Practice went well, with the first team and the reserves having a brutal scrimmage against one another. By the end of it, Quentin had a black eye thanks to Ivy's beating skills, and Connor had a row of three neat fingernail scratches across one cheek where Amanda Barton had made a vicious swipe for the Quaffle he had knocked from her grasp. Ivy was rubbing her sore arms and grinning from ear to ear as the game to an end with the first team winning by only 160 points. A group of Gryffindors had wandered down to the pitch to watch the practice game, and were all cheering loudly as the teams landed, boosting their spirits even higher.

After at quick shower, and some even faster first aid, the team made their way up to the castle for a late dinner, surprised that the scrimmage had lasted well over three hours. Connor had been hoping to get in a nap before his midnight Astronomy lesson, but knew he had too much homework to indulge himself. Professor Snape, particularly aggravated that day, had assigned a three-foot essay about a chapter they hadn't even read yet, due at the next class period, which meant that he only had tonight or tomorrow to finish it. He also had short Charms and Transfigurations assignments to complete, plus whatever homework Professor Sinistra gave them for Astronomy tonight. He took his potions book to an armchair in the corner and began to read, soon joined by Zack and Quentin, all silently cursing the potions master.

At eleven thirty, a group of fifteen sleepy Gryffindor second years left through the portrait hole and made their way through the silent castle toward the Astronomy Tower, carrying their collapsible brass telescopes along with them. Connor tried not to think about his previous trip to the astronomy tower in the middle of the night. Had it really been less than a week ago? As they climbed up the spiraling stone staircase and emerged at the top of the highest tower at Hogwarts, he thought of what it must have been like for Cicely Green to fall from such a height. The tower itself provided an unobstructed view of the night sky, and had a waist-high wall around its flat roof. Many of the students were known to sit on this wall at times, especially when Professor Sinistra was lecturing. The low wall was at least three feet thick, and gave an air of safety to those who didn't lean too far out. Connor's stomach felt queasy as he observed for himself, for the first time since Cicely had fallen, just how far the drop was.

"Please, Mr. Potter!" Connor felt a hand clamp down on his shoulder and he turned to see Professor Sinistra looking stern. "I do not wish to have a repeat of last week. One student falling from the tower during class in my lifetime is quite enough."

"Sorry," Connor muttered. "I was just wondering how it was she managed to fall."

"From what I was told, Miss Green stood on the wall in an attempt to get a better glimpse of something on the grounds, and one of her friends startled her and she unbalanced and toppled from the wall. The rest, I believe you already know."

Connor nodded.

"I haven't had the opportunity to thank you, Connor," the professor said quietly. "If not for you... well, let's just say twenty five points to Gryffindor, shall we?"

Connor grinned at her and took his place at one of the tripods that was set up at even intervals around the tower. He mounted his telescope in place and concentrated on the lesson. It had turned out to be a good day after all.