Foreshadowing the Unexpected

Chapter Seven - Interesting Lessons

Keep away from people who try to belittle your ambitions. Small people always do that, but the really great make you feel that you, too, can become great. --Mark Twain

Quentin had been right - he could do some wicked tricks on his broomstick now that Connor's dad and uncle had 'improved' it.

Connor remembered his father taking him to see a Quidditch match once when he was eight or so, where some stunt flyers had entertained the spectators before the match had begun. They had performed some amazing aerial acrobatics, and Connor had spent a month afterward trying to mimic wild leaps and landings he'd witnessed, though the tether his parents used to make him wear on his ankle had made it somewhat difficult. Quentin's moves reminded him of that now, as he watched his friend jerk to a stop, spin in a ninety-degree angle, and take off again in a matter of seconds.

Quentin had dragged Connor, Zack, Ivy and Rachel outside every day for a week to fly, and was enjoying getting to know his broom again. Ivy had been pleased with the improvements to her own broom as well, finding that it was much more stable than it had been. Now it was less inclined to be thrown off-course or shoved backward by the force of her swing when she hit a Bludger. Zack hadn't really noticed much of a change to his, except that its acceleration was a bit better, and the placement of the cushioning charm had been adjusted to compensate for his change in height since last Christmas. All in all, Gryffindor had some excellent brooms on their team, and it was bound to help them win if they worked hard.

Quidditch practices had begun at six in the morning, three times a week, under the lights around the pitch. Connor had a sneaking suspicion that it was Slytherin house's fault that Gryffindor could only get time on the pitch before sunrise, but there wasn't much anyone could do about it, so he kept quiet.

Every morning, Connor began rising an hour earlier then everyone else, to practice his Occlumency. He was beginning to feel the wear on his system as a result, and often found himself fighting the urge to doze off in the middle of the day.

He followed Professor Lupin's advice and kept notes, doing his Occlumency practice the original way - with no aids. He had only used the charmed ball that Clive had given him twice during the week, when he had felt nagging headaches coming on. It seemed to be working, and he was able to occlude more completely for longer periods of time, with the effects lasting longer. He still needed to occlude at some point in the middle of each day, but it was better than it had been.

Clive had sent him a reply a week after Connor had owled him, giving him the same basic advice as Professor Lupin had. The ball, which Clive wrote was his own creation named the Animus Orb, was not to be used as a crutch, but as an occasional tool. Depending on it too much could cause less complete results, as Connor had evidently found out. He had apologized for not cautioning him before about the possibility. He also told him that if he had any problems that Professor Lupin couldn't advise him on, that he should seek out Professor Lyra, who was a highly skilled Occlumens. This had surprised not only Connor, but apparently Professor Lupin as well, judging by his raised eyebrows.

"I suppose it makes sense," Lupin had said after a few moments thought. "She is a respected Seer, and I would think that she would need to guard herself against outside influences similar to the way you do, Connor."

"I guess," Connor agreed. He remembered how alarmed the Divination Professor had seemed when Connor had told her that he had been learning Occlumency to block out his visions instead of to clarify them. "But I think we're doing okay together so far. Things have gone a lot better since I stopped using the Animus Orb so much."

"You're more comfortable with me." It wasn't a question.

Connor nodded, and Professor Lupin agreed to keep meeting with him once a week or as needed as long as every thing was going well.

Despite Connor's fatigue, he was determined to keep up with is homework, and so the third week of school found Connor as a regular visitor to the Library, researching still more theory for another transfiguration essay that he'd been assigned. He'd been the only one in class to be assigned the essay - this time, for causing a guinea pig to lose all of it's fur and erupt in orange boils when he was supposed to have turned it into teapot. Professor Thompson had assigned the extra work and suggested that Connor have his wand checked for defects. Connor wasn't sure what his hang up was this year; he hadn't had nearly as much trouble with transfiguration last year.

He settled himself at a library table with a small stack of books, wondering where Quentin was. Quentin had promised to come and help with the essay, since he was easily the best of the Gryffindor third years in the subject. Pulling out a sheaf of parchment and his notes from class, Connor prepared to try to figure out where he was going wrong.

"Connor?"

Connor looked up at the sound of his name and was somewhat surprised to find Rupert looking at him with a nervous expression.

"Hello Rupert," Connor said cautiously. This was the first time he had really spoken to the other boy since he had left the train compartment on the way to school weeks ago.

"Listen," Rupert said, looking around as if worried someone might see him. "Some of the older Slytherin boys said, well, they said that Professor Lupin was a werewolf."

"And?" Connor prompted, not really understanding what the problem was. Professor Lupin's condition was hardly a secret, and he almost always made an announcement to each of his classes to remind them that he would not be available the day after the full moon. In fact, he had just made an announcement to Connor's class yesterday, saying that Ms Grayson would be taking over classes on Wednesday, which was tomorrow, while he recovered from his transformation.

"You mean it's true?" Rupert dropped into a chair across from Connor as if the shock was too much for him. "I thought that they were just having me on. You know, make up a ridiculous story and feed it to the first years to wind us up."

"Afraid not," Connor denied. "Tonight's the full moon and he'll need tomorrow, at least, to recuperate. Sometimes it takes him a bit longer, but usually he's back after a day."

"Isn't he dangerous?" Rupert asked, appalled.

"Of course not," Connor answered with a sneer. "Do you really think they'd let anyone really dangerous teach us? He won't even be on school grounds when he changes; he goes home for that. Not to mention all of the potions and stuff he takes to keep him safe."

"But how does it work? What happens to him? How did he become one?" Rupert wanted to know.

"Well you're in a library," Connor told him, wincing a bit as the ancient Madam Pince glared at him for being loud. "Go check out a book on the subject. They probably have quite a few that can explain it all. I'd choose one of the more current ones, since the old ones won't have anything about the Wolfsbane potion or anything like that."

Rupert looked as though he didn't know what to make of that extraordinary statement, so he simply stood and walked away. Connor snorted softly at the Slytherin boy's complete lack of manners and was slightly surprised to hear Rupert approach and ask the vulture-like librarian about books on werewolves. "Gee," Connor muttered softly to himself in derision. "So glad I could help."

"Who are you talking to?" Quentin asked as he walked up and sat down in the chair that Rupert had just been in.

"Myself, apparently," Connor said. "Rupert was just here asking about Professor Lupin."

"What about him?" Quentin asked, turning his head in time to see Rupert disappear into the stacks with the Librarian.

"Full moon tonight. He wanted to know if Professor Lupin was really a werewolf," Connor explained. "He thought it was a joke."

"What'd you tell him?" Quentin asked.

"I told him it wasn't a joke, and to go check out a book about it," Connor said with a shrug. "He'll find out soon enough, I guess."

Quentin agreed, and began to help Connor figure out why his transfiguration was going awry, and to help him with his essay on the theory of animal to object transformation. They were mildly annoyed when Rupert settled himself at a nearby table with a few books and began peppering them with questions ("Does he really crave human flesh?") while they were trying to work, but eventually Rupert spotted one of his housemates and quickly left the library before he could be seen sitting near the Gryffindors.

Connor finished his essay, and they retreated to their common room, where Connor spent the remainder of the time until dinner practicing transfiguring one of his books into a teapot. He didn't have any problems changing objects into objects, so Quentin surmised that his trouble was rooted in the fact that they were dealing with living creatures. He made some suggestions, and came up with a clever plan to allow Connor to practice. Poultry Pellets would provide his friend with a living creature to practice on, at least temporarily. Quentin pointed out that there was no need to feel guilty about changing it, because no matter what happened, it would just turn to ash. Once the life of pellets had run their course, the spell that animated them broke down.

This change of tactics seemed to help, and Connor produced a somewhat feathery teapot within twenty minutes.

"I think your problem is that you feel guilty turning something living into something non-living. You feel like you're hurting or killing the animal or something," Quentin pointed out logically. "But it doesn't hurt them, and they always get changed back."

"Maybe you're right," Connor conceded. "Since I knew that it wasn't really a proper chicken and that it would turn to ash no matter what it did to it, I didn't feel bad about it."

"Connor," Zack, who had been observing, said with a chuckle, "don't you think that it might be doing the animals a favour to change them correctly? I mean, if it's guilt that keeps you from turning animals into objects, how do you think they feel being mutilated instead?"

"Shut up," Connor mumbled, but he couldn't help but chuckle as well. His friends had a point.

At dinner that evening, Connor spotted Rupert at the Slytherin table, immersed in a book, which he repeatedly looked up from to stare at Professor Lupin for a few moments at a time.

Professor Lupin excused himself from the meal rather early, and Connor knew that he would be going to his house in Hogsmeade to prepare for his transformation. He watched the professor walk calmly out of the Great Hall and wondered what tomorrow's Defence Against the Dark Arts lesson would be like with Ms Grayson in charge.

The next morning, Connor left breakfast looking forward to the day ahead. Ms Grayson had been an occasional fixture in their Defence classes since she had arrived at Hogwarts, but they had gotten little time to get to know her very much. For the most part, she handled collecting papers and assisting with any of the creatures that were shown to the class.

The doors to the Defence classroom were already open when the arrived, and Ms Grayson was sitting at the professor's desk, reading over some notes. She smiled at them as they took seats, and didn't seem nervous at all. Once all of them were seated, she stood gracefully and pointed her wand at the black board, which instantly filled with notes and a clever, life-sized drawing of a Pogrebin, similar to the one in their textbook.

"Pogrebins." Her voice was firm and clear and carried easily to the back of the room. "Native to Russia. Ministry classification is that of beast status, despite its slightly humanoid appearance. A competent wizard should be more than equal to the task of dealing with a pogrebin, if the creature is detected. Could anyone here tell me why detecting them might be problematic?"

Several hands shot into the air.

"Miss Montrose?"

Tammy Montrose smiled smugly and answered eagerly. "The pogrebin likes to disguise itself as a shiny rock when people look at it."

"Correct," Ms Grayson answered. She waved her wand at the chalk rendering of the foot-high creature, and it crouched down its hairy body, presenting a bald head that did, indeed, resemble a smooth rock. "Some of you might argue that because the rest of its body is so hairy, crouching down and showing a person the top of its head isn't the most effective camouflage. Anyone care to guess why it works so effectively?"

Fewer hands rose into the air than before.

"Mr Murphy?

"Because the person who sees it won't care?" Bryce answered hesitantly.

The rest of the class giggled a bit about his answer, but Ms Grayson was beaming. "Excellent!" she praised. "Five points to Gryffindor! A person who sees a pogrebin up close will most likely already be under its influence, and probably wouldn't care, even if they recognised it for what it truly was."

The class was busily scribbling notes as Ms Grayson waved her wand that he chalk drawing and the pogrebin stood upright again, showing a row of very sharp teeth and a malevolent grin.

"The reason being," she continued, "is that a pogrebin will track its human prey, following a person for a prolonged period of time by hiding in the shadow of its intended victim. Once a human is exposed to the presence of one of these creatures, usually for many hours, a feeling of futility will being to overtake the victim, and they will begin to feel sluggish and have a great sense of hopelessness and despair. Eventually these feelings will overcome the prey, and they collapse, or simply give up, and the pogrebin will pounce and devour the person unfortunate enough to have succumbed to it."

Connor saw that Geoffrey Smythe, a fellow Gryffindor, had his hand in the air, and the boy asked, "It can't be as easy as that, can it? How could something like that follow you around for hours with you knowing it?"

"It's not as unbelievable as it sounds," Ms Grayson answered wryly. "I was almost the victim of one myself many years ago."

"What happened?" one of the Slytherin boys asked at once.

"I was in Russia doing some research, and had the need to travel through a thickly forested area. The only way through was a narrow path, and there was very little light able to penetrate the trees. I was using my wand to light my way, and got lost several times in the unfamiliar terrain," she explained obligingly. She described the forest and her surroundings so meticulously, that every student was still as they listened to her account. "There were many sounds of birds and animals around, so the footfalls of a stealthy little demon went unnoticed. I was alone, and had a long way to go until I reached the cottage I was looking for. I began to feel discouraged by my inability to find my way through the trees, and the research I was working on had not been producing the results I had been hoping for, I began to think of more and more depressing things, until I finally realized what was happening to me. Fortunately I spotted the pogrebin crouched nearby pretending to be harmless, and was able to repel it easily enough. Who can tell me one of the ways in which to get rid of a pogrebin?"

A few hands shot into the air, and she called on Ivy.

"A stunning spell," Ivy answered confidently.

"Correct. Five points," Ms Grayson smiled. "Anyone else?"

No hands went into the air this time.

"There are a lot of simple hexes that can disable a pogrebin," she told them. "They are not particularly immune to any type of magic used against them."

"How did you escape the one that was after you?" Andrew Tillman asked curiously.

"Ah, well," she answered, blushing a bit. "Kicking them works too." The students laughed at her chagrin. "I kicked it off into the forest somewhere, and felt better almost at once. I will caution you all that you shouldn't attempt to pick one up with your hands; they are prone to eating people, and have very sharp teeth. Anyone who picks one up could very easily find a piece of themselves missing."

The rest of the class was spent taking notes and asking and answering questions. She assigned them a chapter summary for homework, and by the time the bell rang; everyone felt they had enjoyed a thorough and entertaining lesson. They were happy with the substitute that they had been given for Professor Lupin's absence. In past years, Professor McGonagall had overseen many of Professor Lupin's missed lessons, or else Professor Snape was called upon to lend his expertise for a day. No one enjoyed those classes very much, so this turn of events was very welcome.

After class Zack led the way to the doors leading out to the wide lawn that sprawled down to the edge of the forest where they would be meeting for Care of Magical Creatures. He told Connor that he was excited to get a chance to possibly handle a magical creature, and even had a camera in his bag, so he could take a photo to send his parents.

The area for the class was charmed to contain whatever creature was being observed or handled. Connor stepped through the boundary of the containment spell and felt the cold air that had been nipping at his cheeks warm up considerably. Apparently there were other charms at work to keep the enclosure comfortable, and those students who had already arrived had removed their heavy cloaks.

Professor Grubbly plank was standing in the centre of the area, at the base of a thick wooden post, which stood about five metres high. There were two other posts like this, forming a loose triangle, and there were thick ropes strung over and between all of them. A large net hammock was strung between two of the posts, and Connor could see a group of clabberts huddled together inside. Their skin was smooth and strangely mottled in various shades of green, and would obviously blend well with surrounding foliage in the wild.

From his vantage point, Connor could see that the creatures seemed to be petting each other with webbed hands and he wondered if this was their way of staying calm or comforting each other at the sight of so many humans suddenly gathering around them.

"Welcome students, welcome," the professor called out to them once they had all arrived. "Gather around. You can see that these animals prefer to be above the ground, and that they are communal and social. Go ahead and get your books out. Turn to page thirty-nine while I attempt to coax one or two of them down for a better look.

Connor reached into the bag that he had slung over his shoulder. He pulled out Magical Creatures: From Flippers to Fur, and began riffling through the pages. He was shocked when he heard Professor Grubbly-Plank shout, "Keep still!" He looked up just in time to feel a heavy weight fall solidly on his head and shoulders. His knees nearly buckled under the impact of the clabbert that had just leapt from the hammock to his back. A webbed hand suddenly smacked him in the cheek, and he could feel another one gripping his left ear none too gently as the animal hoisted itself up to sit at the nape of Connor's neck.

"Just stay calm, Mr Potter," the professor instructed in a non-threatening voice. "She won't hurt you; she just wants to see what you're about. No sudden moves, and try not to talk loudly."

"Okay," Connor murmured just above a whisper.

He could see that Zack was grinning at him, camera in hand, and some of the other students in his view (which was impeded by a mottled green arm) were smiling uncertainly. There was a sudden gasp as Connor took the brunt of another clabbert landing on him, and then some giggles as the first one moved aside obligingly for the other one to settle itself. Connor could feel them clinging to his head by his hair and ears, and they were moving about a bit, one on each of his shoulders, petting his head at the same time.

"Remarkable," the professor said. "As you can see, now that the specimens have moved from their perch, these animals resemble monkeys that have blended with frogs. They have many of the same characteristics as monkeys, in that they like to swing from tree to tree and live among the branches. However, they are uniquely their own species."

At least they look happy," one of the Ravenclaw girls observed.

"They always look that way," the professor told them all seriously. "You'll notice that it appears to be smiling at all times, and when it shows its teeth, there, you see? Very sharp teeth, indeed. You'll also notice that the pustules on their foreheads are not pulsing with light, which means that they do not view Mr Potter as a threat."

Connor was staring in disbelief at his teacher. Was she really going to calmly give her lecture while these things wrestled with each other on his shoulders? Apparently she was. Connor tried to listen to her commentary, but found having clabberts socializing on his shoulders was a bit distracting. Luckily they weren't overly heavy, so at least he was spared having to strain to remain standing.

While Grubbly-Plank continued pointing out the stubby horns on the animals' heads, one of the clabberts scaled down the side of Connor's body, clinging nimbly to his robes and began searching through his pockets. The little scoundrel gave a screech of delight that made Connor jump when it found the two small apples that Connor had hidden in his pocket at breakfast time. The inquisitive clabbert threw one of the apples to it's companion, who caught it by trapping it against Connor's forehead with a thunk, then they both settled back on his shoulders to enjoy their snack. Connor ignored the laughter of the other kids as apple juice ran down his face at the point of impact.

"Now this is somewhat unusual," the professor said indulgently.

Only somewhat? Connor thought to himself as more juice and bits of apple speckled his face from the messy eating habits of his 'guests'.

"Most clabberts only eat fruits or vegetables when their normal diet of small lizards or birds proves elusive. They are being well-fed while in our care, so I can only assume that their regular keepers feed them apples from time to time."

Professor Grubbly-Plank didn't seem the least bit concerned when the remaining three clabberts scurried down one of the wooden posts and mobbed Connor, searching his clothing for more apples. One of them scaled his trouser leg, causing Connor to squirm a bit, and he was relieved when it climbed out from under his robes again fairly quickly.

Another clabbert climbed into his school bag and expelled all its contents onto the ground before settling comfortably inside and munching happily on a chocolate frog it had found inside, wrapper and all. Thinking it might be unhealthy for the animal to actually swallow the wrapping and trading card, Connor attempted to take it from the clabbert, but hastily pulled his hand away when the thing hissed threateningly at him before going back to it's treat. Still another clabbert grabbed Connor's hand and licked it methodically, coating his entire hand with slimy saliva.

"Eeeew," Connor moaned, mindful to keep his voice low. He saw that Zack was only so quiet, because he lacked the breath to laugh any louder. Most of the class were in various stages of mirth, and the professor looked delighted by this turn of events. He stood still resignedly when another one seized his opposite hand and treated it to the same disgusting bath.

The professor continued to lecture while the objects of their lesson investigated Connor. It took nearly thirty minutes before the clabberts tired of him, for the most part. Aside from the one residing happily in his schoolbag, the other clabberts moved jubilantly from student to student, sniffing at their clothes and bags. When it was discovered that no other food was to be forthcoming, they retreated to the large poles and began to swing spiritedly back and forth on the ropes, high in the air.

Zack managed to get his laughter under control long enough to perform a scouring charm on Connor's hands, and they spent the rest of the class period taking notes. Finally, Connor gathered the items scattered around the ground, and asked Professor Grubbly-Plank to remove the now-sleeping clabbert from his schoolbag.

The professor smiled as she awarded Gryffindor fifteen points for Connor's good-natured handling of the clabberts and they headed back up to the castle, while everyone teased Connor a bit about his animal magnetism. They all agreed that it had been a good lesson.

They stopped off at the loo so that Connor could wash his face and headed to the Great Hall for lunch. After Zack had finished regaling their friends with the story about the clabberts, Connor had an idea.

"Hey guys," he said, glad to change the subject. "We've been here almost an entire month, and we haven't really done anything with the map." None of them needed him to say the words "Marauder's Map" to know what he was referring to. "We've got the afternoon free, well, all of us but Rachel, we should get together to plan something."

"Sounds good," Ivy agreed. "Library at three?"

"I'll stop and pick up the map after Divination," Connor told them.

"I'll meet you when I get out of History of Magic," Rachel added eagerly.

"Yeah..." Connor said. "You'll want to avoid the corridor leading to the Hospital Wing. Three Slytherins are going to have an unpleasant experience there."

The brief look of revulsion that came over Connor's face was enough to convince them that they wouldn't want to witness whatever was going to happen.

"Thanks for the warning," Rachel said. The History of Magic classroom was very close to the hospital wing. "You'd better go and occlude before class, if you're picking up stuff like that."

"Right," Connor agreed. He nearly stuck some biscuits in his pocket for later, before remembering that the clabberts had been pawing in there earlier. He could clearly hear his mother's voice in his head.

"Not only is it unsanitary to store food in your pockets in the first place," she told him sternly, "an animal had its hands them! It doesn't bear thinking about what diseases might be lurking in there!"

His hands were itching as well, and he didn't know if it was due to clabbert saliva or his regular itching. "I need to go back to get the right books, anyway, " Connor said. "See you at class, Ivy."

Ivy nodded, and Connor gathered his bag and headed for Gryffindor Tower, still munching on a biscuit as he went.

He ended up being a few minutes late for Divination and as a result, ended up having to partner with Garrison Palmer. Garrison was a bit strange, and tended to be confused a lot whenever any of the professors asked him a question. Connor had observed him idly drawing random pictures on his parchment instead of taking notes before. He thought that having to partner up with him was punishment enough, without the five points that Professor Lyra deducted for his tardiness.

Connor became frustrated with Garrison's disinterest in the lesson as Professor Lyra gave directions. It was to be their last class dealing with Ceromancy, which entailed melting wax in a brass bowl. The heated wax is then poured into cold water, forming shapes with the cooled wax to be interpreted. Even if Connor thought that whole practice was rubbish, he was sure that they were going to be tested on it eventually, and Garrison wasn't even attempting to melt the small block of wax in the bowl in front of him as directed. It was going to be a long lesson.

While Connor listened to the other, more enthusiastic, students trying to interpret their wax formations, he watched Garrison waste as much time as humanly possible. Finally Connor lost his patience and demanded, "Look, why are you even taking this class?"

The other boy looked surprised at the question, and finally looked away from Connor, pretending to rummage in his school bag for something. With a sigh, Connor finally shoved the bowl of cold water over in front of Garrison and snatched up the brass bowl, using his wand to melt the wax. He had just finished, when his partner suddenly snatched up the melted wax and began to pour it into the bowl of cold water in front of him.

"Very good, Mr Palmer," Professor Lyra praised from behind Connor. "Well done."

Connor looked furiously at the other boy, who refused to meet his eyes. "What the heck was that all about?" he demanded in an angry hiss as the teacher moved away.

Garrison only peered into the water at the blob of wax floating there.

"Well?" Connor asked loudly and impatiently.

"Well what?" the boy finally snapped waspishly. "It's not like it's going to affect your grade, Mr Tell-The-Future. You're bound to get a good grade in this class, aren't you?"

"You think it's okay to take credit for my work because I can see stuff sometimes?" Connor was incredulous, and didn't bother to keep his voice down. "I don't think so! You just sit here making stupid little drawings and staring off into space, and then when the teacher looks your way, you make it look like you're doing all the work!"

"Shut up!" Garrison whispered fiercely. "She'll hear you! What does it matter which one of us poured the wax in? We're supposed to be partners!"

"Good! I hope she does hear us, because the only time you do anything at all is when she's around!" Connor exclaimed, throwing his hands up into the air. He didn't know if he was blowing the whole thing out of proportion, but he felt very angry to have been played for a fool because of his so-called gift. "No wonder nobody ever wants to sit with you in this class! Do you pull this type of stunt on everyone?"

"I said shut up!" Garrison repeated, his face turning red. "You're going to get us in trouble!"

"Oh, I'd say you don't have to be a Seer to predict that," Professor Lyra had apparently returned at the disruption, and heard their argument.

Connor had been so involved in his anger that he hadn't noticed the professor approaching. Garrison looked mortified, his face draining of all colour, as he spluttered. "Potter here is trying to claim that I'm not doing the work!" he defended. "Afraid that someone else might show some talent for divination, if you ask me. It's ridiculous!"

"Everyone continue with your interpretations," the professor announced to the class, who was looking curiously in the direction of the arguing boys. She lowered her voice and said, "The two of you will come with me."

Connor and Garrison stood side by side in front of Professor Lyra's desk, waiting for her to pass judgment. While Connor still felt angry at the ruse Garrison was playing at, he didn't really want to cause this much trouble for the other boy, or for himself. He did think, however, that he had found his first victim for them to use the Marauder's Map on.

"Which one of you would like to explain yourselves first?" the professor asked calmly.

"I don't know what Potter's problem is," Garrison began. "He melted the wax, and then I poured...."

The other boy launched into his complaint, but Connor didn't really hear him. The words sounded muffled to him for a moment, and then faded all together. A sudden realization came to Connor as he stood stiffly in front of the desk, and when he came back to himself, it was to find Garrison scowling at him, and Professor Lyra looking at him with interest.

"Do you have anything to add to this?" she asked him quietly.

"Yes, ma'am," Connor replied, but he was looking at Garrison. "At first I thought that Palmer was just slacking off, and making me do all of the work. I've seen him at it before, and then suddenly he saw you coming to our table, and tried to look busy."

"You said 'at first'," the professor prompted. "But not now?"

Connor shook his head, and Garrison looked at him strangely. "No ma'am, I don't. I think that his real problem is that he can't hear; at least not very well. I think that he's been getting by in class by reading the book and watching what everyone else is doing. Maybe even reading lips."

The professor's eyes swung over to the Hufflepuff boy, and she lifted a brow enquiringly. Garrison was standing even more stiffly than before, and his face was flushed. "So what?" he asked defensively. "I'm still getting a passing grade, aren't I?"

"Barely," the professor agreed. "Why haven't you told anyone about this?"

"My mum knows," he mumbled.

"And?"

"And she can't afford for me to see a healer," he muttered resentfully. "My dad left two years ago, and we've not had much money since."

Compassion filled the professor's eyes, and she nodded. "Well I think that you'll do better if you go and see Madam Cosgrove and have her look at you. I'm astounded that you haven't gone to her before now."

"My mum hates Madam Cosgrove," the boy admitted miserably. "She and my mum are second cousins, and their families have never gotten along."

"Nevertheless," the professor pointed out, "Madam Cosgrove doesn't hate you. She is a professional, and very capable. You are a student, and she will do everything in her power to help you, no matter what her private feelings are."

Professor Lyra took out a sheet of parchment and wrote a note to the matron. She sent Garrison off to the hospital wing with a firm order to stay there until he was seen. She promised him that she would be checking to make sure that he had gone, and the boy gathered his things and left the classroom with an uncertain expression.

"Well done, Connor," Professor Lyra praised, sending him back to his desk. "There won't be any need to mention Mr Palmer's personal circumstances to anyone else - is that understood?"

"Yes ma'am," Connor answered. "I understand." And he did. His own mother had grown up in a home where money had always been tight, and he knew that Garrison must be feeling awfully embarrassed about now.

"Ten points to Gryffindor." She smiled at him as she turned back to monitor the rest of the class.

***

"What was all that about?" Ivy asked Connor twenty minutes later, as they headed back to Gryffindor Tower. "You and Palmer were arguing, and the she sent him off with a note. Did she send him to his head of house?"

"To Professor Wexler?" Connor asked. "No. She sent him to the Hospital Wing to get looked over. He wasn't feeling right, and I guess I lost my temper when he wasn't doing his share. I feel kind of bad about it now."

Not a bad improvisation, Connor thought when Ivy simply nodded. They dropped off their books in their rooms, and Connor tucked the map into his bag. He supposed it wouldn't do to use Garrison as their first victim, now, but he was sure they'd think of something.

Zack and Quentin were waiting for them in their usual corner of the library and were talking about the things that Quentin had been learning in Muggle Studies class.

"How was divination?" Quentin asked as they sat down.

"Connor got into a fight," Ivy announced. "Garrison Palmer."

"Is he that Hufflepuff who's always staring at other people?" Zack asked. "He's in my Ancient Runes class, and he seems a bit odd."

"That's him," Ivy said.

"So what happened?" Quentin wanted to know.

Connor sighed and related his story, leaving out the bit about Garrison's father leaving, and his mother having no money.

"So you had a precognitive premonition that he wasn't hearing right?" Zack asked.

"Sort of," Connor explained. "It was kind of like I went deaf for a moment, and then I just knew what his problem was."

"Connor!" Ivy cried. "What have you done to your hands?"

Connor looked down to see that his hands were an angry red, and covered in scratch marks. He vaguely recalled scratching at them in divination, but they weren't bothering him now. "They're fine," he answered evasively. "I went to Madam Cosgrove, and she couldn't find anything wrong with them."

"You should go and see her again, if you're feeling the need to practically rip the skin off them!" she admonished sternly.

"Madam Cosgrove is going to be pretty busy soon," Connor said. "And they don't itch right now, so there's no point."

He pulled out the map to divert their attention and they spread it out on the table. They looked around before Ivy activated it, and they watched as the lines spread themselves out across its surface.

"Look," Ivy pointed. "Palmer's still in the Hospital Wing."

Sure enough, a tiny dot labelled 'Garrison Palmer' was situated in the matron's office, and another marked 'Grace Cosgrove" was very near to him. They observed Rachel in History of Magic, and noticed that Professor Lupin was in the Headmistress's office with Professor McGonagall and Ms Grayson.

"Uncle Remus must be feeling better," Connor observed. "He wouldn't be back at the school if it had been a rough transformation.'

"Moonset was at half-six this morning," Quentin said. "That's awfully fast for him to have recovered, isn't it?"

"It seems like it," Connor agreed. "But I've seen him only a couple of hours after moonset once or twice. He's weak and stuff, but he seems okay."

There was a sudden movement to Connor's left, and he turned his head in time to see someone step back behind a stack of books, trying to hide. He stood up, relieved to hear Zack whispering, "Mischief Managed." He darted suddenly around the stack of books and smiled grimly at Rupert Dursley. He grabbed the younger boy by the arm when it looked like he was about to run.

"What are you doing spying on us? Why aren't you in class?" Connor demanded. He didn't trust this particular 'cousin' at all.

"I wasn't! We were released early!" Rupert insisted, yanking his arm away and straightening his robes. "I was looking for a book!"

Connor simply stared at the other boy until he fidgeted.

"Is that, that werewolf really your uncle?" Rupert finally asked. "My dad said that your dad didn't have any other family, and that's why he had to live with Grandmum and Granddad. How could you have an uncle?"

Connor didn't like the way Rupert said the word werewolf, but let it pass for now. "It's an honorary title," he answered. "Because he and my father are so close. He's known me since I was born."

"Your parents let a werewolf around you when you were a baby?" Rupert asked in disbelief. An ugly smile was playing around his lips by now. "My father was right; you lot are crazy."

"You want to watch your mouth, Rupert," Connor warned in a low voice. "My dad might not have had a lot of family growing up, but I've got plenty. You don't want to make us mad, unless you really enjoy spending a lot of time in your common room."

"You can't threaten me!" Rupert said, but he looked distinctly uneasy.

Connor laughed out loud when Aiden Weasley walked up behind Rupert and said, "All right there, Connor?" Rupert practically jumped out of his skin and whirled around to stare at Aiden as if he were the devil himself.

"All right," he answered with a grin. "I was just telling Rupert here how useful it is to have a lot of family around."

Aidan seemed to cotton on to what Connor was implying, and smiled back. "No doubt. You'd have to be mad to mess with a family like ours, wouldn't you?"

Rupert's eyes widened. He stammered out an excuse to leave and hurried out of the library.

"Any particular reason you're trying to make that piglet wet himself?" Aiden asked conversationally as they watched his retreat.

"I didn't like how he was talking about Lupin," Connor answered. "He seems to have picked up some very Slytherin ideas about werewolves really quickly."

"Well from what I've heard, most of the Slytherins don't like Rupert much, either, though he does seem to have a couple of dimwits that usually follow him everywhere. It's a wonder they can even find the Great Hall," Aiden informed him.

"I noticed," Connor said, thinking of the short, unfortunately named, Xerxes Xanatos and the stringy, sour-looking Willem Burns that usually sat near Rupert at meals. "Rupert's clever enough when he wants to be. I imagine his friends are the same."

"Anyway," Aiden said dismissively. "Let me know if you need any help with him. Whitney sent me to tell you that our next practice is going to be at eight o'clock Friday night, instead of six in the morning. She's got something going on that morning."

"Okay." Personally, Connor didn't care why it had been postponed, as long as it meant he could sleep a little later that morning. "I'll tell Ivy and Quentin. Rachel should be here soon, too."

"Thanks," Aiden said, and punched him affectionately on the arm before departing.

Connor went back to the table where his friends were waiting anxiously.

"We just saw Rupert running out. Did he see the map?" Ivy asked at once.

"I don't think so," Connor said. "But he was listening to us. He really has some sort of hang up about werewolves, and he heard me call Professor Lupin 'Uncle Remus.' I had to explain why he shouldn't say nasty things about him around me."

Zack activated the map once more and almost immediately spotted three Slytherins standing at the mouth of the Hospital Wing, and Madam Cosgrove hurrying in their direction. "Something they ate," Connor said with distaste. A moment later, they heard the bell dismissing the final class of the day ring and watched as Rachel's dot left the History of Magic room and detoured away from the direction of the infirmary toward a secret passage that would take her to the fourth floor, where the library was located. They watched her progress through the castle and were smiling at her when she arrived.

"Saw you coming," Quentin said.

"So have you all planned anything yet?" she asked, dropping her bag unceremoniously on the ground before taking a seat.

"No, but I think I know who we should prank first," Zack answered.

"Who?" Connor and Rachel asked at once.

"Rupert, of course," Zack answered. "He's practically begging for it!"

"Do you have anything in particular in mind?" Quentin asked with a smile. It was obvious that he thought that Rupert made a perfect target.

"I'm not sure," Zack considered. "It should be something simple, but effective."

"Well I can think of one thing," Rachel told them. "I found this charm in a book I got when we bought our school things. I haven't tried it yet, but I think it could be just the thing."

"What is it?" Ivy asked eagerly.

"It's a pretty complicated charm," Rachel warned.

"Zack's brilliant at charms," Ivy announced at once.

Connor pretended not to notice Zack's pink cheeks. "That's true. Best in our year."

"Well the first thing we need to do is wind him up," Rachel said conspiratorially. "We need to make him believe that there's a curse on something he's already come into contact with. We could maybe startle him into bumping into one of the suits of armour or something...."

They plotted out their little prank, and Zack looked through Rachel's charm book to see if he would be able to perform the necessary spell. Once they came up with a plan, they knew that they would have to wait for the right opportunity. They watched the map to see where Rupert had gone. Unfortunately for them, he was in his own dorm room and didn't appear to be moving at all, so they retreated to Gryffindor tower to do their homework and to plot some more.

They couldn't believe their luck when they spotted Rupert after dinner, lurking alone behind a statue of Godric Gryffindor in an out-of-the-way alcove off of the entrance hall. They decided that they might not get a better chance, and so Zack positioned himself at the right angle and prepared to cast the charm.

"Rupert!" Connor said, pretending to have just noticed him in passing. "What are you doing?" He tried to infuse his voice with a touch of alarm. "No! Don't touch that!"

Rupert jumped, startled, and grabbed a hold of the statue to balance himself.

"Oh Rupert, you didn't touch that statue did you?" Ivy asked, sounding concerned as she approached.

"So what if I did?" he asked in an angry tone.

"You're not wearing any red or gold are you?" Rachel asked.

"Only a gold watch," Rupert answered, shoving back his sleeve to show off the expensive timepiece.

"But you don't have anything with red on it, right?" Ivy asked, keeping her tone anxious.

"Well there's red on the crest on my robes, isn't there?" he asked, beginning to sound wary.

This was the cue that Zack had been waiting for and he cast the charm as quietly as he could, using careful aim. The beam of gold light hit Rupert in the leg, and he never even noticed it! Connor had, though, and he quickly announced, "I wish I was a Gryffindor!"

"What are you talking about?" Rupert asked, bewildered. "You are a Gryffindor!"

"Well, you're right of course," Connor agreed with a chuckle.

"So what was all this about? Me wearing red or gold and touching the statue?" Rupert asked.

"Oh," Rachel said. "It's just that this statue is supposed to be jinxed. Anyone who touches it while wearing red and gold will, well, you'll find out soon enough I suppose."

"You're all mad!" Rupert claimed, moving away from them.

They all just shrugged and watched him begin to walk away.

"Hey, Rupert," Zack said as he passed the boy.

"I wish I was a Gryffindor!" Rupert announced at once, repeating the first thing he had heard since the spell had hit him.

Zack raised an eyebrow at the other boy and said, "Well it's a bit late for that, isn't it?'

"I didn't mean to say that!" Rupert swore in astonishment.

"Ah," Zack said, as if everything suddenly made complete sense. "You touched the statue, didn't you?"

Rupert looked panicked as he fled down the corridor. They waited until he was out of earshot before they burst into laughter and went to study before the third years had to go to Astronomy class at midnight.

"How long will the charm last?" Ivy asked as they climbed the steps.

"About two days," Rachel replied happily.

Their laughter echoed through the entrance hall as they went back to their common room.