Foreshadowing the Unexpected

Chapter Five - A Complicated First Day

That is what learning is. You suddenly understand something you've understood your whole life, but in a new way. - Doris Lessing

Connor woke the next morning tired from going to bed so late the night before, but excited to start the day. Zack was already awake, his hair damp from a recent shower, and Quentin had his pillow over his head in denial that it was morning already. Andrew, it seemed, was already gone.

"Morning!" Connor called out, making Quentin moan.

"Morning," Zack answered, buttoning his shirt. "You'd better hurry if you want a shower before breakfast."

Connor took his advice and came back feeling much more refreshed.

Quentin was sitting up on the edge of his bed, but still looked as though he might fall asleep again sitting up. He managed to get to his feet, and was so groggy that he didn't even put on a dressing gown as he stumbled from the room.

Connor began to dress, telling Zack to go ahead and save him and Quentin a seat at breakfast. Connor finished dressing, and then sat on the edge of his bed, and brought up a visualization into his mind. It would definitely be a good idea to practice his Occlumency before descending into the noise of hundreds of students again.

When he opened his eyes again, Quentin was dressed, was and shoving some books into his schoolbag.

Quentin looked over at Connor. "Good, you're done," Quentin observed. "I didn't know if I should try to snap you out of it or not."

"It's probably better if you don't, but it probably wouldn't hurt me, either. I just wouldn't get the full benefit of it," Connor explained. "How long was I out?"

"I don't know when you started, but I've been back from the lavatory for about five minutes," Quentin told him, shouldering his bag. "You ready?"

"I guess," Connor said. "I don't even know what books to bring yet."

"I don't suppose we'll get into too much trouble if we don't have our books first class," Quentin said. "Unless it's Potions. I just grabbed all of my summer work and my Potions books, and we'll hope for the best."

"Good idea," Connor said. "I'll do the same."

The Great Hall was full by the time they got there, and Connor spotted Rupert sitting with a group of Slytherin's laughing over something. At least he hadn't alienated his entire house yet, Connor thought uncharitably, and sat down in one of the seats that Ivy had saved for them. Ivy handed them each a sheet of parchment, saying, "New timetables."

Connor grabbed a bun from a basket on the table and bit into it as he looked to see what his schedule was going to be like this year.

Monday

9:00 - 11:00 Double Potions (with Hufflepuff)

11:20 - 12:20 History of Magic

Lunch

1:35 - 2:35 Care of Magical Creatures (with Ravenclaw)

2:45 - 3:45 Defence Against the Dark Arts (with Slytherin)

Tuesday

9:00 - 10:00 Transfiguration

10:10 - 11:10 Charms

11:20 - 12:20 History of Magic

Lunch

1:45 - 3:45 Double Herbology

Wednesday

9:00 - 10:00 Defence Against the Dark Arts (with Slytherin)

10:10 - 12:10 Double Care of Magical Creatures (with Ravenclaw)

Lunch

1:45 - 2:45 Divination (with Hufflepuff)

12:00 (a.m.) - 1:00 (a.m.) - Astronomy

Thursday

9:00 - 10:00 History of Magic

10:10 - 11:10 Herbology

11:20 - 12:20 Potions (with Hufflepuff)

Lunch

1:45 - 3:45 Double Charms

Friday

9:00 - 11:00 Double Divination

11:20 - 12:20 Defence Against the Dark Arts (with Slytherin)

Lunch

1:45 - 3:45 Double Transfiguration

"Good thing we grabbed our Potions books," Quentin said with a groan. "Double Potions with Hufflepuff first thing, then History of Magic. Yuck. I've got Arithmancy after lunch, though," he added, brightening. "What do you guys have?"

"I've got Arithmancy, too," Ivy said.

"Zack and I have Care of Magical Creatures," Connor added with a chuckle. "Maybe Grubbly-Plank can tell me what went wrong with Snowball."

"Or at least tell you how to shrink it," Rachel suggested, wrinkling her nose. "I'm so jealous that you get to start new subjects this year. I can't wait until I can take Arithmancy! It sounds so exciting, and Mum says it was her favourite subject when she was at school."

"Uncle Bill is really good at it, too," Connor said. "He used it all the time when he was a curse-breaker."

"Damn," Quentin muttered under his breath.

"What's up?" Connor asked.

"We've got Defence Against the Dark Arts with Slytherin this year," he answered, and they all groaned.

"I don't have any classes with Slytherin this year," Rachel announced cheerfully. She turned to look reprovingly at Connor. "Connor, you need more than pastry inside of you."

"Yes, Mother," Connor gibed, spooning some eggs onto his plate and slipping an apple into his pocket for later.

They finished eating and hurried off to their first class. Connor didn't like to think how many points Professor Snape would take from Gryffindor if they were late for their first class of the term.

The Hufflepuffs and Gryffindors were milling in the corridor, when the door opened abruptly, and Professor Snape glared out at them all. Connor noted that, contrary to their earlier speculations, the Potions Master hadn't shaved his sinister-looking goatee, and looked just as menacing as ever.

"Find your seats quickly, and have the work I assigned you over the summer ready to be collected," he told them brusquely.

Everyone hurried inside and separated into pairs at each of the tables set up around the room. There were cauldrons set up, one to a table around the room.

Connor happily pulled out his homework parchment. Potions was one of his favourite classes, despite Professor Snape, and he enjoyed the practical lessons where they actually got to brew things. He hadn't held onto much hope that they would be doing much at their first class, so the sight of waiting cauldrons was a pleasant surprise.

Quentin had managed to snag the seat beside Connor. Zack took a place next to Andrew at the table behind them. They always tried to beat each other to the seat next to Connor, because his potions rarely went wrong: he just seemed to have a knack for the subject. Ivy paired with another Gryffindor girl; she was comfortable enough in Potions class to not want Connor as a partner.

Professor Snape moved to the front of the room and ordered one of the Hufflepuff girls to collect the homework.

As she moved around the room, the Professor began to speak. "Today we will be brewing a rather tricky potion, and so I caution all of you to pay very close attention to the ingredients and the directions. I will tolerate no clumsy oversights in my class."

Connor watched with eager anticipation as Professor Snape pointed his wand at the blackboard at the front of the room. The blackboard was immediately filled with detailed instructions in Snape's precise and neat handwriting.

"A burn salve?" Quentin read from the board.

"For magical burns," Connor said, surveying the list of ingredients.

"Ingredients are in the student cupboard. This potion takes one hour to brew, so I suggest you get started immediately."

Connor went to gather the ingredients they would need while Quentin went to collect a mortar and pestle and some sharp knives -these were kept in the classroom because if the students carried knives around in their bags, who knew what might happen? They met back at their table.

Connor set Quentin to grinding up an aloe leaf, while he set the comfrey oil over a low flame to heat.

Connor weighed and measured different herbs, carefully mincing, crushing or shredding with quick, sure movements. He set them neatly in the order in which they would need to be added to the cauldron. Soon the scent of lavender and sage was filling in the air. Connor felt confident that their potion would be finished correctly and on time.

He had just finished adding the salamander tongue, which was the last of their ingredients and Quentin had just finished adjusting the flame beneath the cauldron when Professor Snape began travelling around the room, checking everyone's progress.

Connor checked his watch, mentally marking the time, so that he would know when to douse the flames. He and Quentin seemed far ahead of the rest of the class, who were still preparing and adding their ingredients, so he read through the directions one more time to make sure that they had followed them correctly.

"We're good," he assured Quentin, who was looking at him questioningly. "It's perfect."

Quentin heaved a sigh of relief; he was always a little disconcerted when he partnered Connor and they finished so quickly. He began to clean up their work surface and took the knife and other tools to the sink to wash them.

Connor got out quill and ink for the work that Professor Snape would undoubtedly assign for them while their potions brewed the required hour.

Suddenly, Connor stiffened. He blinked against the vision that had forced itself through his guard, and suddenly discovered that he was shouting that he top of this voice. "Becky! Don't put that in your cauldron!" he bellowed, and was just about to vault himself over his own work table in a bid to get to the Hufflepuff girl at the front of the room, when Professor Snape quickly snatched the small bowl of crushed leaves that the girl had been about to dump into her cauldron.

Seeing that the crisis had been averted, Connor calmed down, trying not to make eye contact with any of the students who were now staring at him in surprise. Instead, he looked over at the professor, who was examining the leaves he had just plucked from Becky Lerner's hand.

"Miss Lerner," he said into the silence that had fallen over the room. "Do you know how to read?"

Others in the class winced at his silky tone.

"Yes, sir," Becky answered in a frightened voice.

"Would you kindly read to me, from the blackboard, the third ingredient on the list I have provided for your benefit?"

"Sage," Becky responded, looking at the blackboard and away from Snape's derisive glare.

"Sage is correct," the professor told her calmly. Too calmly. "What you have here, what you were about to add to your potion, is yage. Pronounced, incidentally, as ya-hay, and not even remotely similar to sage, other than its similar spelling. Do you have any idea what effect yage added to this current mixture would have?"

"No Sir," Becky answered tremulously. It was obvious from her expression that she knew that, whatever it was; it wasn't going to be good.

"Mr Potter," Professor Snape snapped out, his eyes not leaving Becky's face. "Since you were the one who spotted Miss Lerner's error, perhaps you could shed light as to what would have occurred had you not intervened."

Connor shuddered a bit as he recalled his vision. "I think," Connor said, "that it would have caused a thick yellow vapour to rise from her cauldron."

"And what would this vapour have done?" Professor Snape asked, almost conversationally.

"Well, for one," Connor replied quietly, swallowing hard around the lump in his throat - he knew the first thing it would have done, because of the vision h'd seen of Becky clawing at her eyes in panic, the first thing that would have happened - "It would have blinded her. And if I'm remembering my reading right, yage causes intense hallucinations."

"Correct," the professor admitted, almost sourly. "In fact, in this particular mixture, it would have blinded everyone in this classroom, possibly irreversibly."

Becky's face paled, and she swayed a little on the spot. Snape's eyes travelled the classroom, making certain that each and every student understood how dire such a mistake would have been. His eyes finally settled on Connor. "The hallucinations would have been the least of our worries by the time the vapour had been inhaled. Your classmates can all thank you for their ability to continue enjoying both their eyesight and their sanity."

Becky looked like she was about to be sick, and was shaking uncontrollably.

Connor was uncomfortable with the outburst he had made and with being put on the spot. He could feel every set of eyes in the room on him, and shifted from foot to foot as he needlessly fidgeted with some parchment.

"Fifty points from Hufflepuff," the professor called out as he plucked the yage from the supply cabinet and pocketed it, "for Miss Lerner's extreme lack of attention to detail and for almost seriously crippling everyone in this classroom. It will be another ten if you do not stop that crying this instant, Miss Lerner. And five points from Gryffindor for Mr Potter's outburst."

The Gryffindors looked disbelieving at this, but Connor knew that this was Snape's odd way of rewarding them. It could have been a lot more points if the mistake with Becky's ingredients hadn't been so seriously dire, and Snape never awarded Gryffindor points for any reason, so by contrast, a five point deduction was as close to a reward as he would ever give.

"You should all be finished adding your ingredients to your cauldrons by this time," Professor Snape told them all five minutes later. "While your salve is simmering, you will read the chapter in your text dealing with burns and the salves used in their treatment. You will write fourteen inches on the physiological differences between magical burns and other types, and how their treatments differ. What you do not complete in class will be done for homework. Miss Lerner, I also want you to complete two feet on the inherent dangers of Yage and the effects it can have on the human body if used improperly, to be handed in on Thursday."

Connor set to work on the fourteen-inch essay, and was grateful that whispering and conversation were not tolerated in Professor Snape's classroom. He had no doubt that word would get around about his sudden inexplicable shouted warning. Even worse, it had happened on the first day of term, in the very first class. He hoped that this wasn't a sign of things to come for the rest of the year, or he might as well just hang a sign around his neck that read, 'Freak'. It had been bad enough last year when the whole school had learned of his precognitive abilities, and now he had just reminded them of that fact in a pretty spectacular fashion.

Connor checked his watch, then counted down the time for the last thirty seconds that their potion needed to boil.

When the time was up, he prodded the flames with his wand and they extinguished immediately. Quentin carefully scraped the sides of the cauldron clean and a poured the slightly runny potion through a strainer, as the directions on the black board instructed. Connor held the strainer and the glass bowl steady as the liquid trickled through, leaving behind the solids, which would be discarded.

Connor eyed the double layers of the remaining potion with satisfaction. There was two thirds more of the thick yellowish layer than the clear watery one. It was precisely how it ought to look at this stage, and Connor knew by its appearance that it would have the perfect consistency when they were done.

"Do you want to emulsify it, or do you want me to?" Connor asked, as Quentin balanced the strainer over the cauldron for cleaning.

"You'd better do it," Quentin averred. "The last time I tried it, I broke the glass. I'll go finish cleaning up."

Connor nodded and gently swirled the thick oily brew around the bowl to cool it slightly, watching to make sure it clung to the sides of the glass, as it ought to. When he was certain that it was the correct temperature, he pointed his wand straight into the bottom of the bowl, vertically, then rotated his wrist in a clockwise stirring motion before muttering, "Pulsare!" He watched carefully as the oil was whipped up into a frothy mixture. He ended the spell, and carefully used a glass stirring rod to stir the mixture until the foam dissipated. He jumped, startled, when he heard glass breaking across the room, but did not look up to see what had happened. He needed to concentrate on this step to make sure that he got this right. He used the spell again to whip the mixture, and was pleased to see that the froth did not form this time, and that he was left with a thick yellowish-white ointment in his bowl.

Quentin returned with the clean cauldron and strainer, and smiled when he saw Connor scooping their completed burn salve into a container.

"Top marks for us, I think," Connor smiled back, feeling confident. Quentin made a label for the container, and was about to put a rubber stopper on the ointment, when Connor's hand shot out and caught his wrist. "Not yet. Snape'll take points off of our grade if there's any condensation from steam in there. Just let it cool until he calls for the samples, and then take it up to him, without the lid on, and explain why you've left it off. It's not on the board, but it was in the book. It's a test he's using to see if we're really paying attention."

"Did you 'see' that?" Quentin whispered.

"No," Connor answered seriously. "I just know. Trust me, I've been reading up on advanced potions this summer."

Quentin nodded, not doubting his friend's word on this subject. He looked over his shoulder to make sure that Zack had overheard this, and Connor saw Zack and Andrew nodding ever so slightly to show that they had. Connor took the bowl, spatula and stirring rod over to the sink to wash, while the professor called out that they should be through with the brewing process and working on straining their potion. Ivy joined him at the sink to clean her cauldron, and Connor warned her to be careful about steam condensation, just in case she hadn't thought of it.

"By the way," she said, nodding to show she had heard the reminder. "Thanks for stopping Becky from blinding us all."

Connor turned red, and returned to his seat, where Quentin was working on their assignment. He bent over his own parchment until Snape called for them all to finish cleaning up and to bring him a sample of their finished product.

Connor nodded to Quentin to go, and listened to the exchange as Quentin explained his reason for not putting a stopper on the container. Snape simply replied, "Very well," and Connor smiled happily at the desk, knowing that no comment from the professor was the highest compliment he could make.

The fact that he didn't deduct any further points from Gryffindor for the rest of the double period was further proof of Snape's approval; they usually had at least fifteen points deducted per class. They knew that they would earn them back in Professor Lupin's class later that day anyway, since the heads of Slytherin and Gryffindor seemed to keep track of such things, and worked to balance them out in their own ways.

After class, the chatter began immediately. Only a handful of students had handed their finished salve in without a lid on, and most of those people admitted that it was because they had heard the professor's acceptance of Quentin's sample first.

Becky Lerner approached Connor timidly, and he tried to apologize for getting her in trouble, but she shook her head and suddenly threw her arms around him, tearfully thanking him for saving her from making a dreadful mistake.

Connor disentangled himself from the miserable girl, saying something he hoped was comforting, while prying her arms from around his neck. His face was beet red as he made his escape, and he ignored Zack and Quentin's teasing as they made their way toward the courtyard nearest the History of Magic classroom for break.

The air was chilly, but Connor welcomed it as it cooled his heated cheeks and dried the slight perspiration that working over the low flame in the dungeons had caused. He pulled out the apple he had pocketed at breakfast and took a large bite, savouring the sweetness.

"That was a close call," Zack said, as they stood together beside a pillar near the door. "Can you imagine what would have happened if Connor hadn't stopped Becky adding the Yage?"

"Yes," Connor agreed with a shiver, blinking to rid himself of the disturbing image. Suddenly the apple didn't taste as good, and he discarded it in a bin by the door.

"Right," Zack said, realizing that Connor didn't need to imagine it. "Sorry."

Connor scratched at his hands as they talked about the rest of the class. The breaking glass that Connor had heard while he had been emulsifying his salve had been one of the other Gryffindor pairs, who hadn't held their bowl steady while straining their potion. It had smashed on the floor, and Professor Snape hadn't even taken points from them; just told them to clean the mess up.

"He must have really been shaken by the Yage thing," Ivy said. "That bowl breaking was worth at least a ten point loss, and he didn't even say anything about it."

"Well, I'm not complaining," Quentin said. "I wonder how the Hufflepuffs are going to react when they find out about the fifty points?"

"On the first day?" Zack asked. "They'll be furious! Imagine having negative points at the end of the first day!"

"Yes," Ivy agreed. "I don't think that Professor Wexler will be willing to award any points to make up for it in this case. You know, the professors are all pretty good at evening out the points that Snape takes from all of the other houses, but you have to admit, she deserved it."

"Connor," Quentin said, "you should go and see Madam Cosgrove. You're scratching your hands raw!"

"Yeah," Connor agreed. "They're driving me crazy. I think I'll go see her tonight before dinner."

"You should just go now," Zack told him. "It's only History of Magic. Binns will never even notice you're not there."

"Zack!" Ivy chided. "It's the first class of the year! Connor really shouldn't miss it unless he has to."

"I'm all right," Connor insisted. "I can wait until later."

They made their way to the first floor and filed into the classroom. Connor didn't have his book with him and shook his head at the thoughtlessness of not running up to the tower during break to fetch it. He had his summer work with him, plus plenty of clean parchment to take notes on; he should be fine.

Connor took a seat at the back of the classroom and absently scratched at his hands again, even though, as usual, he could see nothing wrong with them - aside from the welts he had raised with his own fingernails. The itching was really maddening, and he was beginning to feel the beginnings of one of those headaches coming on, the kind that told him that the distracting thoughts and feelings of the rest of the school were trying to get through the barriers he had built up that morning. It was almost as though the fluffy white clouds from his visualization had become too saturated with the images he was trying to keep out, and were raining them back into his consciousness. He was beginning to "hear" things in the back of his mind, and "know" inconsequential facts, such as Andrew's shoelace would come untied soon, or that a boy in the hall would spill ink on his trousers in his next class.

Connor rummaged in his schoolbag for parchment, quills and ink, and caught hold of something round at the bottom. He pulled it out to discover the small glass ball that Clive had given him at their last meeting, to help him with visualization once he was at school. With a shrug, Connor brought it out, knowing that if he didn't practice his Occlumency again soon, his headache would only get worse as the images pressed in on him. It was a bit troubling to know that he had only done it three hours ago, and already needed it again, but Clive had warned him. The school was full of hundreds of people, so it only made sense that the clairvoyant or psychic signals around him would intensify. It might also have something to do with the fact that one big vision had forced its way through in potions already, leaving his mental shields slightly weakened.

He looked over at Ivy, who was looking at him strangely, and quickly scribbled at note to her. I need to occlude for a few minutes. Cover for me, if Binns asks any questions.

He passed her the note, and she glanced at it before nodding. They both knew it was unlikely that the ghostly professor would take any notice of anyone at all as he lectured in that monotone voice.

Instead of closing his eyes, Connor stared at the glass ball for his visualization, imagining himself inside of it, floating in the blue sky. He blocked out the world around him, systematically forcing deliberate sensory deprivation and working his way back to awareness. He blinked rapidly to moisten his eyes, which felt dry, as though he hadn't blinked in a long time.

Professor Binns was still droning on, and the clock told him he had only been occluding his mind for about ten minutes, but he felt immeasurably better for it.

The room seemed quieter and more settled than it had before, and even his hands had stopped itching; maybe because he had stopped thinking about them when he'd begun. He raised the glass ball to study it more closely, and saw that the blue sky inside now had clouds scudding about inside, just like the ones he'd produced that morning to represent distracting thoughts. Perhaps this ball was more than just a clever little visualization aid. Maybe it was more like a psychic thermometer to help him gauge how heavily the distractions were weighing on him at any given time. He resolved to check it later in the day, to see if there was any change in it when he was beginning to feel strained by images trying to intrude again.

Ivy glanced over at him and smiled when she saw that he was back, and went back to taking her notes. Connor quickly put the ball in his pocket, and then began to take notes as well, because he didn't know how much of what the professor was telling them was actually in the text book. He had a feeling that he might have enjoyed History of Magic if someone who really cared about the subject taught it, not a ghost who probably remembered a lot of it first-hand and spoke of it as if it were old news.

After class, they made their way to the Great Hall for lunch. Connor found that he was absolutely famished. The bite of apple he had eaten at break didn't seem to have done the job of tiding him over between meals. As they walked to the Gryffindor table, Connor heard someone at the Hufflepuff table whispering his name, but when he looked over, anyone who might have been looking at him suddenly turned their heads in the other direction.

"Great," he muttered under his breath. "Good news travels fast."

They found seats near the middle of the table, and Rachel hurried in and squeezed in between Connor and Zack.

"Connor!" she exclaimed. "I was just in transfiguration, and some Hufflepuffs were saying that you saved an entire class from an explosion!"

Connor couldn't help but snort in amusement at the strange way the gossip around school got distorted in such a short period of time. "It wasn't an explosion. I just stopped a girl from adding the wrong ingredient to her potion."

"Oh," Rachel said, sounding a little disappointed. "Then why's everyone making such a big deal about it?"

"Because the ingredient she almost put into her potion could have blinded us all and given us hallucinations," Zack supplied. "He shouted at her, and Snape grabbed it out of her hand at the last second. It was a very close thing."

"And so once again, I am a freak," Connor said gloomily, ladling stew onto his plate.

"It's not that bad," Ivy told him reassuringly.

"Maybe I'll get lucky, and someone will transfigure Professor Thompson into a Jobberknoll or something today, and take the attention off of me," Connor said without much hope of this ever happening.

He looked up at the head table, to see that Professor Snape was leaning toward the Headmistress and talking in her ear. Her eyes swung to the Gryffindor table, and landed on Connor, causing him to look away as if he hadn't noticed. Of course now that McGonagall knew about the Potions incident, she would have a letter off to his parents within the hour.

He knew that he had better write to them about it as soon as classes were over, to assure them that he was practicing his Occlumency, and that he was fine. They tended to worry about him since his adventure at the Ministry last April and everything that had led up to it. That had been the point at which his precognitive abilities had seemed to increase in intensity, bringing about the need for him to learn Occlumency in the first place. With a sigh, he recognized that there was very little that he could do about it now, and tucked into his lunch with enthusiasm. He really was very hungry.

Three servings of stew later, Connor hurried up the stairs to Gryffindor Tower with his friends to get his books for the afternoon classes. He still had Care of Magical Creatures and Defence Against the Dark Arts to contend with today, though he was excited to be starting a new subject. Ivy and Quentin disappeared down one corridor toward the Arithmancy classroom, while Connor and Zack headed for the Care of Magical Creatures classroom on the first floor.

Connor knew that this class used to be held out on the school grounds, by the gamekeeper's hut, when his father had been in school. He had been told numerous stories about the gentle half-giant that had taught the class and been his father's friend. Old Rubeus Hagrid had died when Connor had been just a baby; his parents said that he had met him once, but Connor didn't remember it.

These days the class was taught indoors, for the most part, by a nice, if somewhat rigid, witch named Professor Grubbly-Plank. Connor had seen her around the school before, and had been amused by the fact that she occasionally could be seen smoking a pipe when she took a class outside for practical lessons with larger creatures. He wasn't used to seeing women with pipes in their mouths, and it always struck him as funny.

Connor and Zack took seats in the front row and were reminded, by the blue and bronze coloured patches and ties of their fellow students', that they were sharing this class with Ravenclaw students. There was a long row of tables along the far wall, all lined with various sized tanks, aquariums, cages and crates, most of which were covered with cloth sheets. There was also a covered tank on the professor's desk.

The loud gong-like bell that announced that the students should have reached their classes by now tolled as two more last minute students ducked in through the door, giggling. Professor Grubbly-Plank followed them in and shut the door firmly behind her before taking her place at her desk. She took the class register quickly, then stood.

"Welcome, everyone," she said briskly. "You have wisely chosen to study Care of Magical creatures. I think you will find this subject to be informative, and hopefully as fascinating, as I find it. If you work hard and do your best work, I see no reason why you should not all do very well in my class. I must warn you that we will be dealing, on occasion, with potentially dangerous creatures. I expect every single student to follow instructions and elementary safety procedures when handling any creature, and to treat them all with the respect they deserve. Any questions?"

Connor got an impression of great energy and competence from the professor, and she seemed to be fair and straightforward in her personality. When no one voiced any questions about her class, she asked them to take out their textbooks and open them to page twelve.

"You will find that in this class, as in many others, we will meet once for a single period during the week, and once for a double period. Generally, the single period sessions will be devoted to learning from lecture and your textbook, with occasional visual aids. A double class period will often be held outdoors, weather permitting, and will involve more practical, hands-on types of lessons, where you will actually get a chance to put what you have learned into action. Therefore, I ask each and every one of you to bring your dragon hide gloves to every class period, with no exceptions."

Connor glanced at Zack with a grin. He felt sure he was going to enjoy this class, and was looking forward to actually handling different animals in the future.

"Today, we are going to discuss Streelers. Can anyone tell me what a Streeler is?" the professor asked, looking around the room at all of the raised hands.

"Yes, Miss...." She checked the register. "Whitcombe?"

"A Streeler is a giant poisonous snail that changes colour hourly," the Ravenclaw girl answered.

"Correct," Professor Grubbly-Plank praised. "Five points to Ravenclaw." She whipped the cover off of the tank to reveal three Streelers, all different colours, all about the size of Connor's fist, oozing around the tank. They were similar to the ones that he had seen in the Magical Menagerie in Diagon Alley, if a bit larger. "The Streeler is native to Africa, though it does do quite well in most temperate climates. It cannot abide extreme cold, however, and prefers moist areas with thick vegetation. Many witches and wizards like to keep Streelers as pets, but you should always keep in mind that these are poisonous animals, and should never come in contact with bare skin."

She went on to lecture about the feeding habits of Streelers and their basic anatomy. By placing a few leaves in their tank, she demonstrated how their slime trail instantly kills vegetation. She explained the procedure for treatment if accidentally poisoned, and showed them a rather gruesome photograph of a wizard that had tried to pick up a Streeler with his bare hands in an attempt to save his prized albino pumpkins. The class was interesting, though the Streelers themselves weren't terribly exciting. They were nice to look at though, and one of them changed from vibrant yellow to a deep violet as they watched.

Professor Grubbly-Plank set them reading, asked them to summarize the section on Streelers for homework, and advised them to read up on flobberworms for their next lesson. The class was over before they knew it, and Zack commented that he thought he was going to enjoy the class as well. They made their way down the corridor, lucky that the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom was on the same floor as Care of Magical Creatures. Defence Against the Dark Arts actually had several classrooms devoted to different areas of study, as did Charms and Transfiguration, and this year they were in a room that both Zack and Connor were familiar with, since they, along with Ivy, Rachel and Quentin, had been given the task of spending a week cleaning it the year before as detention work.

"I can't believe we're with the Slytherins," Connor groaned as they approached the door to the classroom. "I used to love this class."

"What's wrong with Slytherins, future boy?"

Connor turned at the sound of the nasty voice, and was just a second too late to keep the taller Slytherin boy from snatching his wand from his pocket. His friends laughed stupidly along with him and he said, "He didn't see that coming, though, did he? Maybe he's not so talented after all."

"Give it back, White." Connor didn't raise his voice, but simply held out his hand expectantly.

"Or you'll do what?" the boy taunted.

Zack pulled his wand and pointed it at the Slytherin, but his friends had anticipated that move, and had their wands out as well, pointed at Zack.

"Is your little Mudblood girlfriend going to fight us for you?" one of the other Slytherins asked in a mock baby voice.

"Don't call him that, you snake!" Connor admonished angrily.

"You're not really in a position to be making demands, now, are you, future boy?" the instigator asked, holding Connor's wand in the air just out of reach. "You're just as useless as that new fat cousin of yours. He should have been sorted into Gryffindor with the rest of the losers."

"I said give me my wand!" Connor warned, angry now and feeling as though he wanted to punch the boy. Even if he didn't really care for Rupert very much, he was technically still family; therefore an insult to him required at least a little indignation on his behalf. He reached up toward his wand, and the other boy simply laughed, as Connor's fingertips didn't even come close to being able to reach it. Suddenly Connor opened his hand and shouted, "Give it!"

The wand, as though following orders, jumped obligingly from the boy's hand, and directly into Connor's waiting one.

"What is going on out here?"

Professor Lupin was standing in the corridor, having just emerged from his classroom in time to witness Connor's retrieval of his wand. All of the other students quickly lowered their wands.

"White took Connor's wand from him, Professor," Zack said.

"And they called Zack a Mud...well, you know," Connor said. "He pulled his wand out to try to help me, but all of them," Connor pointed to the three other Slytherins, "pulled theirs as well, and pointed them at us."

"Is this true, Daniel?" Professor Lupin asked the boy who had taken Connor's wand.

"He just did wandless magic," one of the other boys announced stupidly, staring at Connor with his mouth hanging open.

"I was just mad," Connor excused the action out of hand. Emotional magic was unusual, but not unheard of at their age, and Connor had been very angry.

"But --" the other boy persisted.

"Daniel?" Professor Lupin asked again, ignoring the other Slytherins.

"We were just having a little fun," Daniel grumbled in his defence.

"Some idea of fun," Zack spat.

"Because I didn't hear the swearing," the professor said calmly, "there is not much I can do about it, except give you a warning. I won't tolerate that type of language, and I will deduct enough points next time I do hear it to deter you from using it again, understood?"

All of the Slytherins nodded.

"I did, however, see Mr White withholding a wand from another student, which is against the rules. I think you'll find that trying a stunt such as that once you leave Hogwarts will earn you a lot more than the ten points I'm deducting from you today."

"Yes, sir," Daniel said sulkily.

"In you go, then." Professor Lupin stood back to allow the students to precede him into the room, and as Connor passed, murmured, "A word after class, please, Connor."

Connor nodded glumly. Sometimes having Professor Lupin as an honorary uncle was not necessarily all that fun. He knew that he was going to be questioned about the incident in Potions, and that Lupin would probably write a letter to his parents in addition to the one that Professor McGonagall was no doubt composing right now.

Zack looked at him sympathetically, and the two of them took the seats between Quentin and Ivy. Quentin asked quietly what had happened in the hallway, but Professor Lupin began speaking at that moment, and they all fell silent.

"Good afternoon, class," Professor Lupin said cheerfully, with no indication that he had been irate, and had just delivered a punishment, a few moments before. "As you all should know by now, I am Professor Lupin. This year, we will be focusing primarily on the study of Dark Creatures, and how to deal with them, should you encounter them."

The class shifted in their seats a little, interested.

"We will be meeting three times a week, studying together as a class," the professor continued. "Not as Slytherins and Gryffindors. I expect each and every one of you to treat each other with respect, and will not tolerate rude behaviour." His eyes paused briefly on Daniel White. "Also this year, we will be having a teacher's assistant with us from time to time to help in the classroom and with grading papers. Ms Grayson will also be taking over any classes that I am unable to teach due to the full moon or for any other reason. She will have full authority to assign homework, and to give or take house points, as she deems necessary. Unfortunately, she will be unable to join us until Friday. When she does arrive, you will be expected to treat her in the same manner you would any teacher at this school."

The students all looked around at each other for a moment. Finally Ivy raised her hand into the air.

"Yes, Miss Longbottom?"

"Professor," she asked curiously, "why haven't you ever had an assistant before?"

"I didn't feel one was strictly necessary before," Professor Lupin said easily. "But I may be doing some travelling this year from time to time on personal business, and with my incapacitation for at least two days each month, the Headmistress and myself decided it would be a wise idea to have someone who was familiar with my classes, and the subject of defence, on hand."

"But you're not planning on leaving, are you?" Ivy asked worriedly. Professor Lupin was easily one of the most popular teachers in the school.

"No, Ivy," he assured her kindly. "This isn't some clever trick to ease a new teacher into my place so that I can stop teaching. Hogwarts is my home, and I have no plans to abandon it any time soon."

Connor could tell that Ivy was as relieved as he was, and he settled down to the first lesson. They briefly discussed what separated a dark creature from an ordinary magical one, and then turned to the first of many dark creatures, which turned out to be Ghouls. They took notes about the simple-minded, ogre-like creatures, and discussed their living habits and ideal habitats for the rest of the hour. They were relatively harmless creatures, and were not generally disposed of or relocated unless the dwelling in which they lived was passed into Muggle hands.

The class was dismissed with no homework assignment, and everyone except Connor walked out, discussing the lesson or the imminent arrival of the new teacher's assistant at the end of the week.

"You wanted to see me, Professor?" Connor asked as he approached Lupin's desk.

"Yes, I did, Connor," Lupin said, smiling as he leaned back in his chair. "First of all, I wanted to say that I caught that little bit of magic you used to get your wand back from Daniel. Was that intentional?"

"No, sir," Connor answered truthfully.

"Hmm. You're a bit old to be displaying emotional magic, and while you were angry, I wouldn't say that you were out of control with it," Professor Lupin observed. "You may well have displayed a predilection for wandless magic. Care to explore that a little further sometime? Your father has an extraordinary talent for it, so it stands to reason that you might have inherited some from him."

"Right now, I think I have enough talents to be worrying about, thanks," Connor said firmly. "And everyone already thinks I'm weird."

"It's your choice, of course, but wandless magic can be a very useful thing. You might want to think about it," Lupin said offhandedly, then changed the subject. "I've had a letter from your Occlumency instructor, asking me to continue his work with you once a week or as you need it. I won't pretend to be as accomplished as Mr Sharpe, but I'd like to set up a time to meet with you in the next week to go over everything you know. We could work from there."

"Okay," Connor agreed. "I've been doing okay so far."

The professor nodded with a smile, and said "I hear you had quite an eventful morning in Potions class." He didn't seem particularly concerned over this fact, and Connor relaxed a little.

"You could say that," Connor agreed, shrugging his shoulders to show that he thought it was no big deal.

"Professor Snape thought that it was worth mentioning to the Headmistress," Lupin said casually. "I think you rather rattled him. The Yage that Miss Lerner nearly used was not even supposed to be in the student supply cabinet, as it is a controlled substance. He wasn't sure how it came to be there, but admitted that you probably saved the entire class from a very ugly fate. Not that he would ever share that bit of information with you himself, of course."

"I know," Connor said. "I saw what could've happened."

"I'm sorry," Professor Lupin said sincerely. "That can't have been very nice."

"It was only for a second," Connor dismissed. He did not want to give the impression that he was overly troubled about it, or they'd have him in counselling next. "It doesn't happen that often."

"Well, that's something, at least," Lupin said. "But I was asked by Professor McGonagall to tell you that your presence of mind in preventing a horrible accident was commendable, and that she has awarded Gryffindor house fifty points for your quick thinking."

Connor smiled brightly. "Thank you!"

"I think the whole point of it was to say thank you," Professor Lupin returned cheerfully. He stood from his chair, and patted Connor's shoulder, shifting into Uncle mode. "So how was your first day, other than that?"

"It was good. I think I'm going to like Care of Magical Creatures," he answered, walking to the door with Lupin.

"I think you will, too," Professor Lupin answered. "It was one of my favourites when I was in school. Not too many distractions today?"

"I did get a bit of a headache after potions," Connor admitted. "But I took a bit of a break to practice my Occlumency during History of Magic, and it went away. My hands even stopped itching, but I think I should still go to see Madam Cosgrove about it. I promised my mum."

"Your hands?" Professor Lupin asked, quizzically. "What happened to your hands?"

"Dunno," Connor said, holding them up. They looked completely normal, and were not bothering him at the moment. "They just started itching a couple of weeks ago, and it gets really bad sometimes."

"No rash or anything?" He examined the boy's hands, but saw nothing out of the ordinary.

"Nope," Connor said. "Mum put some cream on them before, and that seemed to help, so maybe Madam Cosgrove will have something like that for when they start to itch again."

"Probably," Lupin answered. "Don't forget to write to your parents tonight and tell them about what happened in Potions. And tell them I say hello."

"I will," Connor promised, and waved over his shoulder as he left the room and headed down a side corridor toward the Hospital Wing.

The matron listened to his complaint, but could find nothing wrong with him after several diagnostic spells and charms, and told him to come back at a time when they were actively bothering him, so she could check them then.

By the time Connor made it back up to Gryffindor Tower, the others were already spread out at a table, working on the day's assignments. He retrieved his potions book so that he could finish his essay questions, then sat down next to Rachel. He talked with her for a while about her first day of classes, and waved happily at the other students who called out to him, thanking him for Gryffindor's early jump in house points.

Because he didn't have much homework, he was finished in no time at all.. It looked as though Ivy and Quentin had received some Arithmancy homework, and Rachel was bent over her Transfiguration text.

Seeing that his friends were still working, Connor pulled out a fresh sheet of parchment, and began what ended up being a very long letter home. It seemed strange that he had left home only yesterday morning, and fought back a tiny pang of homesickness.

He was just folding up his letter when the other kids in the common room began to leave through the portrait hole for dinner. Startled that so much time had passed, he quickly gathered his things, retreated to his room, and practiced Occlumency for a few minutes before heading down to the Great Hall.

Dinner was noisy, but Connor was glad that he didn't hear his name whispered along the tables, as he had feared would be the case. He waved to a few familiar faces at the other house tables, then sat down to eat, feeling a bit tired from his first day back, but happy overall.

He went to the Owlery after dinner, and wasn't surprised to see that many of the school owls were gone. He reckoned that almost every first year student had sent a letter home with news about their first day, but he managed to find a willing bird, attached his letter, and watched as it soared over the forest and off toward his home.

The evening was spent reading his History of Magic chapters, and the section on flobberworms in his Care of Magical Creatures text. He was hard-pressed to decide which was more boring: the history, or the flobberworms. He finally slogged through it all and gratefully jumped at the offer to play chess with his cousin, Aiden, who was usually too distracted to put up too big of a challenge, but was fun to play against anyway.

As Connor contemplated his moves, Aiden worked to distract him by telling him all about his first day back. Aiden was a year ahead of Connor at Hogwarts, and they both played on the house Quidditch team, so they always had something they could talk about. Connor moved his pieces around the board, listening to the idle chatter around him, but didn't really take notice until Aiden mentioned Rupert.

"What was that?" Connor asked.

"I said that I saw Rupert this afternoon after classes, talking to some Slytherin firsties," Aiden repeated. "He was talking about how his father was Harry Potter's cousin, so that meant he was Harry Potter's cousin as well. Trying to impress them with the name, I guess."

Connor groaned. "Fat lot of good it will do him in Slytherin," he muttered, moving another piece on the board. "Checkmate."

"No way!" Aiden complained, surveying the board.

"Sorry," Connor said, insincerely.

"Let's play again," Aiden demanded. "I know I can beat you!"

"Not tonight," Connor declined. "I'm really tired. I'm going to make it an early night."

Aiden nodded, and they said good night.

Connor waved to his friends, and was soon lying in bed, emptying his mind, and sinking into a deep sleep.