Foreshadowing the Unexpected

Chapter Eight - Strange Accidental Magic

A single event can awaken within us a stranger totally unknown to us. To live is to be slowly born. --Antoine de Saint Exupery

The next day, Connor learned that the charm that they had cast on Rupert was the source of great mirth among the Gryffindors, and great annoyance among the Slytherins. Evidently, no amount of counter spells had worked to reverse the automatic utterance of, "I wish I was a Gryffindor!" every time anyone spoke Rupert's name.

Rupert's housemates had almost assaulted him when it first began, until he explained to them that it wasn't voluntary. No one had ever heard of that particular statue being cursed before, but they couldn't deny Rupert's compulsion to blaspheme against his own house was the work of a jinx that even Professor Snape had not been able to cure him of.

Connor also knew, from overhearing one of the other Gryffindors talking, that Professor Lupin (looking tired and a bit ragged) had heard about the prank that morning at breakfast. He looked over at Connor and his friends speculatively, but Connor determinedly did not look in his direction, for fear of giving them all away.

Connor chanced a look at the high table later during the meal, to see Professor McGonagall hiding a smile in her napkin, as students called out Rupert's name repeatedly just to hear him make a fool of himself against his will. Professor Lupin and some of the other teachers were looking warily at Professor Snape's sour expression, even as their own lips twitched.

Connor knew that Professor Flitwick could have easily countered the jinx, but was not complaining that the little professor had not come forward to offer to help.

Luckily for the third year Gryffindors, their Potions lesson that afternoon was one of theory and lecture. Professor Snape was in a very bad mood, and no one was in any doubt as to why. They did not have to risk the professor's wrath if they made a mistake with a potion, at least, and were fine since they kept their heads down and quietly took notes. He still found a way to deduct points from them, of course, but it could have been much, much worse.

The next day, Connor made sure to practice his Occlumency completely and thoroughly before classes began. He had double Divination to start with, Defence Against the Dark Arts before lunch, then double Transfiguration after that - a long day for him. He wouldn't have time for more than a brief period of meditation later in the day should he need it, so it was important to do it correctly the first time.

He gathered his books and homework, and wrestled his quill away from Circe. Ivy's kneazle had managed to make her way into his dorm room, and batted his best quill under the bed with playful paws.

He glanced over his Transfiguration essay and hoped that he had most of his problems with animal-to-object transformations sorted out. He wanted to catch up to the rest of the class quickly, and now that Quentin was helping him, he thought he had a good chance.

At breakfast, he shoved a large orange and a bun that he wrapped in a bit of spare parchment into his pocket, and just grinned when Zack shook his head.

"No Care of Magical Creatures today," Connor said happily. "I don't have to worry about being attacked by wild animals."

Connor and Ivy managed to get seats together in Divination, and Connor noted that Professor Lyra spoke briefly to Garrison when the other boy arrived, smiling widely at him when he answered her. Connor guessed that Madam Cosgrove had been able to help the boy, despite his Garrison's fear that she wouldn't want to treat him.

Professor Lyra greeted the class, and explained that they would begin palmistry today, working on it through the end of October.

"Palmistry is the very much like the art of map-reading. It takes skill, a discerning eye, and an understanding of the nuances involved. The lines in one's hand are very much like a map, that can tell a skilled reader what the general future holds."

Professor Lyra was standing in front of a poster as large as herself, which depicted a human hand, with tiny labels on hundreds of lines over its surface. It did look very much like a map. "Aside from the lines on the palm, there can be scars, bruises, scratches; all of these can play a role into what a skilled palm reader can tell you about yourself. Very few are skilled enough in this art to read the near future in a person's palm. For the amateur, it is a general outline of the path your life could take. The lines in your hands can change with age and experience, and the future is never set in stone, as I've told you before. If you look at a newborn's hands, you will see that they are virtually unlined; the lines etch themselves with age and experience."

The class was spent taking notes, and staring at their own hands occasionally as the professor lectured. Of all of the forms of divination that they had talked about this month, this one seemed to make the most sense to Connor, since it didn't rely on indistinct shapes or guessing as much as others seemed to. Either the lines were there or they weren't - simple. Who knew that the human hand could hold so many?

After divination there was a break, where Connor and Ivy met up with Quentin and Zack in the courtyard. Rupert was outside also, looking furious as all of the Gryffindors called his name, to hear him announce his desire to be in their house.

"Who would have guessed that Rupert would have ended up being so popular?" Zack said with a laugh in his voice.

Connor pulled the bun and the orange from breakfast out of his pocket, and offered the bun to Quentin. Connor peeled and ate the fruit happily, while watching Rupert scowl, and feeling slightly sorry that the charm on Rupert would wear off tonight.

For the remainder of the break, Zack tried to convince his friends that they could really make others believe that the statue of Godric Gryffindor really was cursed. He proposed using the map to hide out and wait for unwitting Slytherins to come by, but Quentin pointed out that they would soon be caught, because one of them would have to be on hand to feed the jinxed person the phrase they were bound to say at the mention of their own names. Zack said that he was convinced it could be done, and that he just had to think about it for a while.

"We could try it on Snape," Zack enthused eagerly.

"Thanks, but I don't have a death wish," Ivy said. "And I think any student foolish enough to prank Snape to do anything against his will is asking for a painful end."

"We got him good last year," Quentin reminisced.

The previous year, Connor and his friends had played a prank on Professor Snape when they had first come into possession of the Marauder's Map. It had been their inaugural prank with the map, and had turned out well. They had situated themselves in a group at a point that they knew Snape would pass (since they had sent word he was needed upstairs), and played out a rehearsed scene. When he had passed them, they had used a secret passage to beat him to the next floor, and had played out their little scene again. They had repeated the scene several times on different floors as he passed, and Professor Snape had finally approached them. It had been great fun to act as though they didn't know what he was talking about when confronted.

"It would be fun to do that one again, just on one floor, to keep him on his toes," Ivy said with a gleam in her eyes. "Does anyone remember everything we did and said?"

"I think Rachel had it written down somewhere," Connor answered as they went back inside for their next class. "She might still have it."

In Defence Against the Dark Arts class, they were pleasantly surprised to see Ms Grayson standing beside Professor Lupin's desk, talking quietly with the professor. She usually excused herself to Lupin's office when the students began to arrive, and only joined them if she was needed during class. Connor took a seat at the front of the room, wondering if she would be teaching them some more today.

Neither the professor nor Ms Grayson seemed overly concerned that one of the covered cages on a nearby table was shaking and had high-pitched squeals coming from inside of it.

Almost as soon as he sat down, Connor noticed that his hands were itching rather badly. He tried to ignore it as best he could when Professor Lupin stood up and greeted the class, removing the cover from the squealing cage and announcing that they would be studying Nogtails. Nogtails were demons that looked like abnormally long-legged piglets, and put a blight on any farm where it resided.

Connor tried valiantly to pay attention, but found that his hands were itching so badly now, that he felt it would be a relief if he could only drag them down the rough stone of the classroom walls.

"Connor?"

Connor looked up to see Ms Grayson standing beside him, looking concerned. He had been clawing at his hands under his desk, but she put a stop to that by simply seizing his arm and pulling his hand into view. Her gasp caught the attention of Professor Lupin, who stopped mid-sentence and turned his head to see what the problem was. Connor's hands were covered in angry red furrows, and he had actually broken the skin in a couple of places on the backs of his hands with his own fingernails.

"Hospital wing, Connor," he ordered without hesitation. "Immediately."

Connor nodded without argument, and shoved his things into his bag feeling relieved. He knew that as fast as the itching had started, and as fast as it had gotten nearly unbearable, he needed help.

With a short glance toward his worried-looking friends, he left the classroom. He tried hard to keep from mangling his own hands in an effort to get some relief, and hurried along the corridor. He passed the Muggle Studies and the History of Magic classrooms before turning into the Hospital Wing. The itching had lessened somewhat on his walk, but returned in force as he waited for Madam Cosgrove to tend to a student with a badly bruised head.

"I'll be with you in a moment, Mr Potter," the matron said briskly. "What are you...."

She turned to glance at him, and saw that his hands were seeping blood even as he continued to scratch viciously at them.

"Hold out your hands," she ordered sternly. "Obvolvo!"

Connor watched as a yellow beam flashed from her wand and surrounded his extended hands. When the light faded, he found that each of his hands was enveloped in thick gauze, making it impossible for him to scratch. He scowled at her, but she only returned to ministering to the Ravenclaw with a big purple goose egg on his head. She was applying some sort of gooey black paste, which looked like tar, to the bump.

"What happened to you?" Connor asked the boy, who looked like he could be a first year.

"Accident with levitation in Charms class," he boy answered glumly.

"Enough of that," The matron said, and gestured with a shooing motion for Connor to leave her to her patient.

With a heavy sigh, Connor sat on a nearby chair and shook his hands out of sheer irritation. The itching was maddening! The medi-witch administered a smoking potion to the slightly dazed-looking Ravenclaw, and sent him into a small dimly lit room to lie down while the potion did its work.

When she returned, Madam Cosgrove faced Connor with her hands on her hips. "If I remove the bandages, can you refrain from scratching?"

Connor had been in the process of trying to use his teeth to free the gauze, so that he could resume digging at his hands, but nodded at the question. What could she really do to stop him?

"Don't make me put you in a body bind to keep you from doing more damage," she warned, answering his unspoken question. She pointed her wand once more, and muttered, "Finite."

The bandages fell away, and Connor bit his lower lip hard in an effort to keep himself still, and not to howl with misery. There was no obvious rash, and the only markings were those he had made himself earlier. He waited, squirming in place, as the matron performed what seemed like an endless array of diagnostic charms. Madam Cosgrove seemed to become more and more frustrated as she failed to find what was causing such extreme discomfort. Connor was thinking of increasingly drastic ways to relieve the itch. Maybe submerging his hands in boiling water? It seemed that the resulting pain would almost be worth it to be rid of such torture.

"Prurio Quiesco," was the last thing that Madam Cosgrove muttered, and Connor felt a slight relief from the itching. They were still irritating him, but it didn't seem as urgent as it had only a moment ago.

"Can't you make it stop all the way?" he groaned at Madam Cosgrove a little desperately. "It's never been this bad before!"

"All of my diagnostic charms are coming up normal," she said testily. "This is going to take some research."

"How long will that take?" Connor was trying to surreptitiously rub his hands against the chair he was in.

"As long as it takes to find out what's wrong with you!" she snapped. Apparently she didn't like not being able diagnose him. "Stop that! Where were you when this started?"

"Defence class," he answered.

"You're a third year," the matron said, more to herself than to Connor. "That would mean you're studying Dark Creatures."

"Yes ma'am," Connor answered.

"Did you handle any today?" she asked.

"No, but there was a Nogtail in a cage in the room."

"But you didn't touch it? Have you handled any other animals, or anything out of the ordinary today?" she asked. "My tests didn't detect any allergic reactions, but we'd do well to eliminate anything obvious."

"No, I didn't touch it. I haven't touched any animals, except a kneazle, since Wednesday," Connor told her.

"Two days ago. What did you touch on Wednesday?" she queried, picking up a quill and a clipboard and beginning to take notes.

"Some Clabberts," Connor replied, recalling how the apples in his pockets had attracted them. "They, er, took a liking to me. They licked both of my hands. A lot."

"Well, Clabberts are harmless enough. There was no itching immediately after they licked you?" the matron asked, steadily scratching away with her quill.

Connor answered what seemed like dozens of questions, all the while trying to scratch at his hands without appearing to do so. She spelled his hands again, to help bring the itching to a tolerable level, but it didn't help much.

The Ravenclaw boy emerged at one point, and was sent back to class, the black goo apparently gone. Madam Cosgrove consulted four different healing texts while Connor waited. The itching finally began to subside at about the time that the dismissal bell rang, but the matron would not let him leave for lunch.

A few minutes after the bell, Ivy, Zack and Quentin showed up, but Madam Cosgrove sent them away, saying that she didn't need any distractions. Connor thought sourly that he would have liked the distraction, but wasn't given a say in the matter. He watched sadly as his friends went off to lunch, and lamented the fact that he had given Quentin the bun he had pilfered from breakfast during break.

"Wait here," Madam Cosgrove admonished sternly as the door closed behind his friends. "And stop that scratching!" She disappeared into her office, and returned a few minutes later. "Professor Snape will be sending along a jar of his strongest anti-itching salve in a few minutes," she reported. "We'll see if that helps at all."

"But the itching is almost completely gone, now," Connor protested. "Now they just ache a bit from where I scratched too hard."

"All the same, Mr Potter," she said sternly, "this isn't the first time you've come to me with this complaint, and it only seems to be getting worse. I will give you some of the salve to take with you, and you're to use it the next time you have a problem, then come and see me immediately. I will continue to research the matter."

She used her wand to heal the abrasions and welts that Connor's fingernails had caused, and was just finishing when Professor Snape appeared in the doorway.

"Madam Cosgrove," he said formally as he approached.

"Severus," she replied, using his first name with a small smile.

"It's for Potter, is it?" he asked, speaking as though Connor was not sitting right in front of him.

"Yes," she answered calmly. "It's the strangest thing I've ever seen. There's no indication of allergy, poison, spell damage or anything else I can determine, but it's undeniably a reaction to something."

"He probably did something dangerously against the rules, and is now suffering from it, afraid of being punished." Professor Snape told Madam Cosgrove in a bored tone. Then he turned to Connor and said simply, "Hands."

Connor held out his hands for inspection, and tried not to flinch when the gruff Potions Master pointed his wand at them. After a series of long strings of Latin, the professor turned back to the medi-witch.

"An interesting case," was all he said. "My manuscripts are available to you if you should find a need."

"Thank you Severus," Madam Cosgrove smiled. "That's very generous of you."

"This salve should help to temporarily sooth any dermal inflammations; topical usage only. Ingestion would be - ill advised. I would be interested in your findings when you discover the source of the problem." Professor Snape handed over a pint-sized jar of what looked like greenish grease.

"Thank you," Madam Cosgrove said again. "I'll keep you apprised."

Snape nodded, and gave a stiff little bow toward the matron before turning to leave. He ignored Connor all together. Madam Cosgrove simply smiled and unscrewed the lid of the jar.

"Ugh!" Connor complained. "That smells terrible!"

"That would be the garlic," she said pragmatically, but with a wrinkled nose.

Garlic wasn't the only smell invading Connor's nose. With his talent for potions, he also recognized the underlying scents of lavender, bay, chamomile and eucalyptus, all in a base of lanolin. He was sure there were other ingredients that he couldn't detect, but he was proud of being able to identify the ones that he could. The combination of smells was far from appealing, and he wasn't exactly happy about having to apply it to his skin.

"It's really quite an honour to be given permission to use Professor Snape's private library!" the matron enthused, scooping some of the salve from the jar. "He's very protective of his manuscripts."

Madam Cosgrove rubbed a small amount of the balm into his hands and wrapped them loosely in bandages. She advised Connor to wear the gauze until the salve had time to sink in, and to keep the unpleasant smell to a minimum. She released him after supplying him with a vial of the smelly salve, and Connor hurried toward the Great Hall. He only had fifteen minutes before he was due in Transfiguration, which meant that he had about five minutes to grab some lunch.

His friends were all gone from the Great Hall by the time he arrived, as were most of the other students. He sat down at the table and ladled some soup into a bowl, and quickly buttered a large slab of bread.

"Connor?"

Connor bit back a groan. Professor Lupin was approaching, and if he wanted a full report about what Madam Cosgrove had said and done, he'd never get a chance to eat.

"Hi Professor," he answered. "Sorry I missed class. I only have a couple of minutes to eat before I have to get to Transfiguration."

Professor Lupin sat down opposite Connor and said, "Take your time and eat properly. I'll write you an excuse for being late to Professor Thompson's lesson."

"Thanks," Connor said around a huge bite of bread.

"What did Madam Cosgrove have to say?" Lupin asked kindly. "I was worried when I saw what you'd done to your hands."

"She couldn't figure out what was wrong with them," Connor said after swallowing hugely. "She tried everything - even looked in books and stuff."

"That's odd," the professor replied with a frown. "What did she do to help with the itching?"

"Well, she put some sort of spell on my hands; that helped a bit. Then she finally called Professor Snape, and he brought some salve that's supposed to help deaden the nerves a bit next time. The itching had gone by the time he brought it, but Madam Cosgrove put some one me anyway."

Lupin eyed his bandaged hands and wrinkled his nose slightly. "Is that where the unusual smell is coming from?"

"Yes," Connor said. "Stinks, doesn't it?" He spooned up some soup, not at all put off his appetite. "I don't have to use it all the time, thank Merlin. Madam Cosgrove just said to put it on if they start itching again, to give me time to get to the Hospital Wing without ripping my hands to shreds."

"Well, as your head of house, I thought I should warn you that it's my duty to send an owl to your parents about this," Professor Lupin said. "Though I know that they're already aware of the initial problem, I'm bound to contact them whenever one of my students' health is compromised."

Connor rolled his eyes. He had a feeling that by the time he graduated Hogwarts, his parents would have enough letters from Professors Lupin and McGonagall to wallpaper the entire house. The bread had taken the edge off of Connor's hunger, so he put down his spoon. He didn't want to tell his uncle that his hands had already begun to itch slightly again since he'd started eating; there was nothing he could do about it since he already had salve on, and the medi-witch had found nothing discernibly wrong with him. "I already wrote to them about it last time I went to Madam Cosgrove," he complained.

Lupin nodded and smiled as he got to his feet. "It's still my job," he replied. "Finish your lunch, and I'll send a note along to Professor Thompson for you."

Connor finished his soup and filled his pockets with chocolate biscuits just moments before the tables cleaned themselves of food. It was a relief to him when he realised that his hands did not itch anymore at all, and he reckoned he must have imagined the flare up while he was talking to Professor Lupin.

He made a quick trip to his dorm to get the correct books for Transfiguration and managed to enter the room without attracting too much attention to himself. The entire class was busily working on changing Hedgehogs into pincushions. Professor Thompson looked around to see Connor standing just inside the door and strode over. Connor handed him his essay, and was told to collect a hedgehog from a crate on the counter and get to work.

By the end of class, Connor was pleased to see that he had accomplished his task. It was not the prettiest pincushion in the world, perhaps, but it didn't jump or squeak when jabbed with a pin like one or two others in the room did. It seemed that Quentin's advice had helped, and Professor Thompson was pleased with his progress.

Connor and his friends headed up to the common room to do their homework, knowing that they had Quidditch practice that evening, and not wanting to leave it for the weekend. When eight o'clock rolled around, Connor was standing on the Quidditch pitch with Ivy, Rachel, Quentin and the others, preparing to scrimmage.

"All right everyone!" Whitney addressed the team after casting a quick Sonorus charm on her throat. "It's time for a scrimmage! Red versus gold - first team against reserve. I want no holds barred, people! I want everyone to play as if the other team is in Slytherin house! Professor Lupin has agreed to release the balls for us, and to referee from the sidelines as much as possible, so everyone mount your brooms and get into position!"

The match was a good one. Professor Lupin released the balls, and tossed the Quaffle high into the air, putting the players into motion. Connor reached out and snagged it first, passing it smoothly to Amanda on his left, even as gold-robed Trent Carpenter lunged for it, nearly falling from his broom in the attempt. The reserve chasers seemed determined to show the others that they were capable and formidable, and the beaters on both sides were getting increasingly vicious in their swings.

Bludgers grazed Connor twice, but Ivy and Aiden were quick to repel them. Connor found it extremely hard to score against Rachel, and the other reserves made up for their lack of experience with sheer enthusiasm.

Connor was disappointed to see that Tim Nelson, the first team's keeper, was not doing very well, and was letting easy saves by him far too often. Tim had been playing rather poorly since this term's practices had begun, and claimed it was due to an injury he had sustained while practicing over the summer. Connor hoped that he would be up to scratch in time for their first match, or they had little hope of winning.

Forty-five minutes later, Jarod Weasley was smiling menacingly at Connor as he hit a Bludger with considerable strength in his direction from only a few metres away. Connor barely had time to dodge out of the way as Ivy sped forward to beat it away.

What came next happened so quickly that Connor barely had time to process it. He had thrown his body weight into turning sharply on the spot in an effort to avoid both the Bludger and Ivy, who were right behind him. Ivy's new broom modifications kept her from being thrust backward after her bat contacted the Bludger, and Connor's sudden turn caused the tip of one of the tail twigs from his broom whip around and slice across Ivy's sleeve.

Connor looked behind him just in time to hear Ivy gasp in pain, and to see blood spurt alarmingly from his friend's forearm before she clamped her hand over it. He realised a vein must have been severed, because blood began to seep through her fingers at once. One of the other girls on the team couldn't hold in a panicked scream at the sight.

"Here," Connor ordered calmly, thought his heart was racing wildly. He manoeuvred his broom up beside hers so that they were facing in opposite directions. He grabbed a handful of his own robes and carefully coaxed her hand from the wound, and used his robes as a makeshift bandage, pressing them against the gash in her arm.

Connor felt slightly queasy at the amount of blood his friend had lost, but Ivy was shaking from reaction by now. He quickly, but gently, pulled her onto his own broom with out letting go of the pressure he was applying to her wound, so that she was sitting sideways, huddled against him. He sucked in a breath as his own arm throbbed in sympathy, and ignored the itching that began in his own hands once more. He wasted no time in steering with his free hand, and urged his broom as fast as it would go out of the pitch and toward the castle. Connor didn't stop until they reached the huge oak doors leading to the entrance hall.

All the while, Ivy was chanting through tears and gritted teeth, "It hurts! It's burning!"

"Oh Merlin," Connor murmured as they reached the castle. He imagined that he could feel the stinging heat beneath his hand as he sped onward, but could not spare a moment to glance down at the moment. He tried to think of anything comforting he could say, and thought of what his mother might say at a time like this. "Don't worry Ivy, I'll get you to Madam Cosgrove! She'll fix you right up, you'll see!"

Guilt was pressing him to hurry; he had been the one to injure her, after all. He brought his broom to a stop and helped her to dismount without letting go of her arm. He let his broom drop with a clatter on the stones of the dark doorstep, and used his free hand to draw his wand and open the huge door. He guided Ivy up the steps and took her as fast as he could manage to the Hospital Wing, murmuring meaningless words of comfort the entire time.

"What happened?" Madam Cosgrove demanded when she saw all of the blood staining their robes.

"We were playing Quidditch, and the tail twigs of my broom sliced into her arm," Connor said wearily. He was breathing hard, and felt a little unsteady now that help was at hand.

The hand that he'd clamped over her arm was sore and stiff from the constant pressure, but they no longer itched. He was intensely relieved when the matron readied a bandage to place over the wound and urged him to let go.

Reluctantly, Connor took his hand away from the wound, prepared for it to begin gushing blood again, but nothing of the sort happened. Madam Cosgrove had promptly covered the newly exposed area with the bandage, but no new blood soaked it as Connor expected.

The matron guided Ivy to a nearby bed, and had her sit on the edge of the thin mattress to be examined. She used her wand to remove the sleeve of Ivy's ruined robes, and lifted the bandage away to reveal...nothing. Where there had be a gash only minutes ago, there was now only a line a pink skin to indicate where the wound had been. It was as if the gash had been an injury from weeks ago instead of only minutes.

"Is this some sort of joke?" Madam Cosgrove demanded, sounding angry.

"No!" Connor denied at once.

"I don't understand," Ivy said in confusion. "It was bleeding like mad just two minutes ago!"

At that moment, Professor Lupin burst into the ward, breathing hard, obviously having run all the way from the Quidditch Pitch. He was holding Connor's broomstick, evidently having

found it in front of the school doors when he followed them. "How's Ivy?" he panted. "Her arm...."

"Is just fine," the medi-witch finished for him. "No sign of an injury at all. I expect someone thinks this is highly amusing."

"No." Professor Lupin was quick to assure her. "I saw it happen myself. Connor spun round on his broom, and the tail caught Ivy in the arm. Blood was everywhere; it was coming out of her arm like a fountain before Connor stopped it."

"You're sure?" Madam Cosgrove did not look convinced.

"Positive," the professor said.

A moment later, a sweaty and out of breath Gryffindor team came through the door, all breathing hard and demanding answers. Professor Lupin and Madam Cosgrove hurried to usher them all out, and told them to go back to their common room after assurances that Ivy was fine. They only went reluctantly when Ivy waved to them to show that she was all right.

"Now," Professor Lupin said, "perhaps we can figure out what is going on here."

"Well my arm was cut open," Ivy began. "It was really deep, and I think that seeing all that blood made me panic. I just remember Connor grabbing my arm with his robes like a bandage, and then he pulled me onto his broom. I remember it stung really bad, and it felt like it was on fire."

"She kept saying that it was burning," Connor confirmed. "I flew as fast as I could back to the castle and brought her straight here."

"And what happened to your own arm?" Madam Cosgrove asked, striding toward Connor.

"Nothing," Connor answered quizzically. He looked down as the matron grabbed his arm, and saw that the sleeve of his robes were soaked through with blood in a spot on his own arm, that corresponded with the blood on Ivy's arm. She yanked up his sleeve to find his arm completely unmarked.

"Is this Ms Longbottom's blood?" she asked, examining his uninjured arm carefully.

"I guess it would have to be," Connor answered, feeling suddenly light-headed. "She was bleeding really heavily, and I didn't have any cuts like that."

"What do you think happened to Ivy, Grace?" Lupin asked Madam Cosgrove.

Whatever answer the matron gave, Connor never heard. His vision greyed as his knees suddenly gave way, and he never even felt himself hit the floor.

*******

"Maybe it was reaction from seeing all of the blood?"

Connor came back to consciousness with a throbbing headache and a wicked thirst. He distantly recognised Professor Lupin's voice nearby.

"I'm not so sure about that," came Madam Cosgrove's voice.

'Of course,' Connor thought to himself as he opened his eyes, finding that he was lying on a bed. "Hospital wing. Ivy's arm."

"That's right," came the matron's voice. "You blacked out on us."

Connor hadn't realised that he'd spoken that last part aloud.

"How are you feeling now?" she asked.

"Tired," he admitted. "And thirsty."

Professor Lupin immediately conjured a glass of water and handed it to him while Madam Cosgrove admonished him to drink it slowly. Connor drained the glass and then sat up slowly to find everyone looking at him with worried expressions.

"What happened?" he asked.

"You fainted," Madam Cosgrove informed him bluntly.

Connor winced. Fainting was something girls did. "How come?"

"It was an awful lot of blood," Ivy said quietly.

"I think," Madam Cosgrove said. "That you wore yourself out healing Ms Longbottom."

"Pardon?" Professor Lupin looked surprised.

"What?" Connor and Ivy said together.

"I think that when Mr Potter saw the blood and realised that Ms Longbottom was injured, his emotions got the better of him. I think he used accidental magic to heal her while he was bringing her to me." The matron was looking very sure of her diagnosis. "He is a bit old to be displaying wild magic still, but it can happen in extraordinary circumstances. I think that he panicked and his magic took over; that can be very draining."

"So I healed Ivy by accident, and I passed out because of it?" Connor summarized.

"In a nutshell, yes," Madam Cosgrove answered. "I expect you'll sleep very soundly tonight as a result. I really should keep you here tonight for observation."

"No!" Connor protested at once.

"He did display some wandless magic in the first week of school," Professor Lupin supplied, changing the subject of Connor spending the night in the Hospital Wing with some amusement in his tone. "He was very angry at the time, and I thought that he might be showing a predilection for it, as his father does. Perhaps it was just accidental magic, after all."

"Shouldn't my occlumency be keeping that in check?" Connor asked, feeling distinctly uneasy about where this conversation was heading.

"Obviously it's not," Madam Cosgrove said. "But for now, you both seem to be fine. I want to run a few diagnostic charms over the two of you before you go back to Gryffindor Tower, but I don't suppose there is any real reason to keep you longer than that."

Connor sighed with relief. If his parents got word he'd had to spend the night in the Hospital Wing again, he'd never hear the end of it.

"I want to hear about it if anything like this happens again," Professor Lupin told Connor, handing over the broom he had picked up. "Any wandless magic or accidental magic at all."

"Yes Sir." Connor agreed quietly. He really was very tired.

The professor left his students in Madam Cosgrove's care, and Connor had the sinking suspicion that he was on his way to the Headmistress's office. He sat still while the matron waved her wand around Ivy, muttering spells.

"Well," Madam Cosgrove said after examining Ivy, "you do seem to be missing a bit of blood. Nothing to worry about, though you should probably eat something soon, and get some rest."

Ivy nodded, and waited while Connor endured a short battery of charms and tests as well. "You're fine, as well, Mr Potter," she said. "Go to Gryffindor Tower and go straight to bed. Luckily tomorrow is Saturday, and you should be able to sleep as long as you need."

Both Ivy and Connor were yawning by the time they reached the portrait of the Fat Lady. Ivy gave the password, and the picture swung forward. As soon as they climbed through, students who had seen or heard what had happened on the pitch beset them. Whitney came forward immediately, returned Ivy's broom to her, and demanded to know if Ivy would still be able to play her position as Beater. Zack looked a bit pale as he came forward, too, saying that Rachel had told him that Ivy had looked as though she might bleed to death from the amount of blood she had seen.

"I'm fine, really," Ivy insisted loudly enough for everyone to hear. "Good as new, thanks to Connor's quick thinking. I'm a bit tired, though, from losing a lot of blood, so I'm going to go to bed.

"Madam Cosgrove said you should eat something," Connor reminded her with a yawn. He was grateful that she hadn't mentioned how she'd been healed; accidental magic was something most wizards outgrew long before Hogwarts. He felt weird knowing that he didn't have enough control over his emotions lately to stop it.

"Don't you have something in one of your pockets?" Quentin asked Connor with a smirk.

Quentin approached his friends, Circe asleep on his arm, now that the crowd of kids had dispersed for the most part. He looked calm on the surface, but Connor thought his eyes looked a bit wide all the same.

"Not this time," Connor said with a smile. He supposed he did tend to have some sort of snack in his pocket for those 'just in case he got hungry' moments. He was actually having one of those moments now, but was too tired to care.

"I'm too tired to eat," Ivy said, waving a hand dismissively and collecting her kneazle from Quentin. "I'll just have a big breakfast tomorrow."

"I'm worn out, too," Connor admitted. "Now that the excitement's over, I'm really sleepy."

Connor retreated to his room, and changed into his pyjamas before climbing into bed. He was asleep before he even drew the hangings on his bed closed.

Connor woke up late the next morning to find that everyone else was already up and gone from the dormitory. He showered lazily; he still fely a bit tired, and dressed thinking that he would go hunt up some breakfast. He was suddenly feeling very hungry, and a glance at the clock told him that the tables in the Great Hall would be clearing themselves soon. He hurried down the stairs, only pausing to see if his friends were in the common room, and then exited through the portrait hole. Using every short cut that he knew, he travelled down to the Great Hall just in time. Only a few students were still in the room, and Professor McGonagall was apparently having a late meal herself. She sat alone at the head table, sipping tea and reading the Daily Prophet leisurely.

Connor scooped a mound of eggs and bacon onto his plate, and for good measure, filled one of his pockets with two apples, and a jam doughnut. No sooner had he shovelled the last of his eggs into his mouth, than the tables cleared, signalling the end of the breakfast serving times.

"Good morning, Mr Potter," Professor McGonagall said to him as he stood.

She was standing behind him with the newspaper folded under her arm, looking as though she had been waiting for him.

"Good morning, Professor," Connor returned politely. "How are you?"

"I am very well, thank you," she answered. "I had a talk with Professor Lupin this morning, and also with Madam Cosgrove."

"I seem to spend a lot of time in the Hospital Wing," Connor said with a sheepish smile.

"Yes, you do," McGonagall agreed. "Very like your father in that respect. I trust you're feeling well this morning? No ill effects from the incident with Ms Longbottom?"

"I feel fine," Connor assured her. "I slept really heavily, like Madam Cosgrove said I would, but other than that, I'm all right."

"Good, I am glad to hear it. Your hands have not been bothering you at all since yesterday morning?" The headmistress seemed determined to make sure for herself that Connor was in good health.

"Not really," Connor said, holding them up as if to prove his point.

"Excellent," she approved with a small smile. "Let's hope they stay that way. Did you get enough to eat? You seemed to be in a hurry."

"I was just really hungry, and I knew the tables would be clearing themselves soon," Connor explained with a sheepish smile. "Don't worry, I grabbed a snack for later before it went." He patted his bulging pocket happily.

"Yes, I saw," Professor McGonagall said dryly, walking with him to the entrance hall. "It seems to be a habit of yours. The way you've been eating, I daresay we can expect you to be growing another inch or so soon."

"That wouldn't bother me any," Connor confessed. "Zack's still a full head taller than me, and Quentin's at least three inches above me."

"Well I think you'll be catching up with them sooner rather than later," she said fondly. "Good day."

"Good-bye professor," he said, and turned to the front doors of the school to see if his friends were visible out on the grounds.

He found Quentin, Ivy and Rachel standing down by the lake, wrapped in heavy cloaks and rubbing their hands together for warmth. The bulk of the Gryffindor Quidditch team was all gathered around for what seemed to be an impromptu meeting.

"Oh, Connor! Good. We were just thinking that since practice was cut short last night, we should get in some time on the pitch today. Ravenclaw was booked, but needed to reschedule." Whitney didn't so much as let Connor greet anyone before she barrelled on. "We just need to see if we can find Aiden, Stella and Trent, and then we can do another scrimmage."

"Aiden was headed toward the greenhouses with Christa Belmuth earlier," Desiree Martin, the reserve Seeker, announced with a slight giggle.

A couple of other girls giggled as well, and Whitney rolled her eyes. Connor wasn't sure what was so funny, but he thought that making up for the practice they'd lost yesterday was a good idea, so he volunteered to find Aiden.

"I'll go looking for Aiden," he said. "Then I'll go get changed."

More giggles. Connor wondered if he should be concerned. Did he have something on his face from breakfast? Had someone stuck a note to the back of his cloak?

"I'll find Stella and Trent," Desiree added with a smile.

"Good," Whitney said happily. "Everyone go get changed and grab your brooms. We'll meet out on the pitch in an hour."

Connor waited while everyone dispersed, and took one of the apples from his pocket, taking a huge bite. He was still pretty hungry, and wished he'd had more time for breakfast. "Do you guys want to come with me to find Aiden?" he asked his Ivy, Quentin and Rachel.

Rachel made a face, Ivy hid a smile behind her hand, and Quentin shrugged.

"Count me out," Rachel said. "There are some things I need to see."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Connor asked, bewildered.

"See you on the pitch," was the only answer Ivy gave before trotting off after Rachel.

"What are they on about?" Connor asked Quentin.

"Who knows?" Quentin said. "Let's go get Aiden and get kitted up. Maybe I'll warm up once we get playing."

They walked toward the greenhouses, discussing the fact that the weather seemed to have turned wintry awfully early this year. When they reached the glass-enclosed buildings, they split up in the hopes of finding Aiden more quickly.

Connor tossed his apple core into a compost heap, and checked greenhouses one and two. He didn't find his quarry until he opened the door to number three. He spotted Aiden's back toward the back of the room, and almost called out to him when he realized that there were a pair of arms wrapped around his cousin. Girl's arms. It took him a full five seconds to realize that Aiden was kissing the girl in his arms, and another moment to turn red and decide what he should do. They obviously hadn't heard him enter, and so he backed up to the door, opened it, and called out in the most normal voice he could manage. "Aiden! Are you in here?"

Connor turned red again when he heard the girl (presumably Christa Belmuth) gasp, and the crash of a flowerpot smashing on the ground. Aiden swore, and called out, "What's up?"

"Whitney wants the team out on the pitch in an hour to make up for yesterday's practice," Connor called out, deliberately not looking in the couple's direction. He didn't have any problem with embarrassing Aiden, but thought that the girl might not take it so well.

"I'll be there," Aiden replied, sounding put-out about it.

Connor stepped back out into the cold and found Quentin standing just behind him.

"Did you find Aiden?" Quentin asked.

Connor knew his face was red, but nodded and said, "He'll be there. Let's go get changed."

On the way back to the castle, Connor was torn between embarrassment at what he'd witnessed, curiosity about the situation, and glee over the fact that he had prime blackmailing material over his cousin at long last. He'd have to give this some thought.

The scrimmage went well, though Tim Nelson continued to Keep poorly. The first team nearly lost to the reserve team on account of the number of saves he missed, and Whitney told Tim he needed to shape up or lose his spot on the first team.

By the time they went to bed that night, Connor was exhausted again. He had eaten another enormous meal at dinner, and was just on the verge of falling asleep when he realized sleepily that he hadn't practiced his Occlumency at all that day, or the previous night. Too tired to worry much over it, he slid into sleep, and had no dreams at all that he could remember the following day.