Foreshadowing the Unexpected

Chapter 14 - Bend in the Road

The bend in the road is not the end of the road unless you refuse to take the turn. - Anon

Connor woke the next day in the hospital wing feeling a bit achy and stiff, but clear-headed. Opening his eyes, he was surprised to see his father and mother standing at the foot of his bed, looking worried and talking with Madam Cosgrove and Professor Lupin.

They hadn't noticed that he was awake yet, so he closed his eyes again, then unabashedly listened in to their conversation.

"It shouldn't take him much longer to wake," Madam Cosgrove was saying. "The potions I gave him aren't long-lasting, but the mental energy he used up probably tired him more than we realized at first."

"I just don't understand why this happened in the first place," Harry said, sounding frustrated. "It sounds like he did everything properly to prepare."

"I'm sorry, Harry," Lupin said. "I went through his Occlumency with him before the match. We finished only minutes before the players went out onto the pitch."

"No," Harry said quietly, "I understand. It's just troubling that Connor's condition deteriorated so rapidly after the match. He's never been so bad that he couldn't even function."

"Well, it's plain that he won't be able to keep his place on the team," Ginny said with a sigh.

"No!" Connor abandoned all pretence and sat upright. 'You can't make me quit!"

"Connor," Ginny said, going to sit beside his bed to take his hand, "I just don't see how we can allow you to play. You'd be putting your life at risk."

"But I made it through the match! I made it to the ground and all the way to the changing rooms before I had any real problems." Connor knew this was stretching the truth, but he had to make her see his side.

"You know that's not true," Lupin said. "You said that you were already having problems at the tail end of the match."

Connor tried to swallow past the huge lump in his throat, and clenched his teeth in an effort to keep his chin from trembling.

"Connor," Ginny said gently, "What if the game had gone on longer? Can you honestly tell me you would have been all right to play for another half an hour or more?"

Connor resolutely did not answer, refusing to meet her eyes. He couldn't believe they weren't going to take his side in this! He couldn't believe that his father wasn't standing up for him. They knew how important Quidditch was to him!

"Con," Harry said quietly, putting a hand on Connor's shoulder, "I know this isn't what you want to hear, but we can't risk your life for a game. Maybe some day we'll be able to find a way for you to overcome all of the stuff going on with you, but until then, you're not going to be playing in any more matches. I'm sorry."

"It isn't fair!" Connor said petulantly. He pulled his hand from his mother's grasp, folding his arms across his chest. "This stinks!"

"You're right," Ginny said, "it isn't fair, and it does stink. I wish there was another way, but I don't see one."

Lupin, who was standing at the foot of Connor's bed, asked, "If I might make a suggestion?"

Connor looked up at him hopefully, wanting to hear anything that would negate his parent's decision. He wasn't encouraged by Lupin's calm demeanour, but was willing to grasp at straws if it meant he could stay on the team.

"While I agree that Connor playing in the actual matches is out of the question," Lupin began, and Connor's heart sank, "he doesn't have any problems of this sort during team practices and scrimmages. It's only a concern when he's surrounded by hundreds of excited students."

Connor could feel his father's grip tighten on his shoulder for a moment, before Ginny said, "That's true, but I don't see how that will help unless we can convince the entire student body not to come to any of Gryffindor's games."

"He could remain on the team as a reserve," Lupin said calmly, ignoring the mild sarcasm. "He could still play with his team, and help them plan and practice. I know it's not as good as his current spot, but there's really no reason he has to give up flying altogether. The team can still use his skills, and Connor would still be able to be included in every way, except at matches."

"I think we could allow that," Harry said. "If it's what Connor wants to do."

"What I want is for things to stay like they are," Connor said sadly. "There has to be a way I can play! Maybe I just didn't do my Occlumency good enough."

"Connor," Lupin said patiently, "we went through it together. Your mind was as clear as it could get just before the match. The trouble didn't start until you were playing."

"But maybe..." Connor said desperately. There had to be a way to get his parents to agree to let him try again! "Maybe if I just play for the first half of the game, then if I have problems, they can put in a reserve!"

"Sorry," Harry said. "The rules clearly state that substitutions have to be made before the game starts, and if a player is deemed unfit to play, the team has to play short, or forfeit to the opposing team."

"But..."

"Sorry, Connor," Ginny said, putting an end to whatever wild argument he was about to come up with. "We'll agree to allow you to continue on with practices, but not with matches."

"Take it or leave it, Con," Harry said. "Sorry."

"Take it," Connor muttered angrily. "Since it's the only choice I have."

Madam Cosgrove appeared a few moments later, carrying a tray of breakfast. "Once he's eaten, he free to go," she said.

Professor Lupin excused himself. After he had gone, Connor shared his breakfast with his parents as they talked quietly of everything except his precognition and Quidditch.

When it was time for them to go, Harry cuffed Connor affectionately on the shoulder, while Ginny smoothed down Connor's collar and kissed his cheek.

Connor miserably headed back up to his common room to tell the team that he could no longer play in any matches.

Connor was surprised and relieved to learn that he would not have to tell them after all; the team had already heard from Lupin about his change of status on the team. Whitney told Connor how glad she was that they wouldn't be losing him all together, then called an official planning meeting to decide how they would handle things.

#*#*#*#*#*#

The next few weeks were painful for Connor as word got out about his being shifted to Gryffindor's reserve team. He still went to practice three times a week, worked as hard as he had before, but it wasn't the same.

Many of the Slytherin players teased Connor about it in the corridors. They hadn't forgotten how his feud with Vanessa Malfoy last year had gotten her permanently dismissed from their team. More than one Slytherin told Connor that he had gotten what he deserved.

Vanessa herself had been strangely silent on the subject, but Rupert had had more than enough to say about it. He had howled with laughter over what he called Connor's demotion on the team, and had not stopped making rude comments about it until Connor had threatened to remove all of Rupert's teeth, by force, one at a time. Connor thought that the detention he had gotten from Professor Thompson (who had heard the threat) had been worth the look of panic in Rupert's eyes.

Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw seemed to be torn between elation that Gryffindor's team was possibly weakened by the loss of one their star players, and sympathy Connor's his plight.

Connor did his best to ignore the people who teased him and concentrated on getting Randall Gordon up to speed as Connor's replacement on the first team.

Gryffindor's next match was against Hufflepuff. Though they weren't due to play each other until just after Christmas, several Hufflepuffs had been caught trying to spy on Gryffindor practices.

#*#*#*#*#*#

At the end of November, a Hogsmeade visit was scheduled for the first weekend in December.

With the Yule ball approaching, a lot of the students in the upper years began acting unusually excited. There was talk in the Great Hall and in the common room about dates and dress robes and the band that McGonagall was rumoured to have hired.

"Thank Merlin I don't have to go to the Yule ball!" Connor said with feeling on the Saturday of the Hogsmeade visit watching Whitney and Amanda giggle over some fashion magazine. Apparently fur trimmed cloaks were all the rage this season.

"Unless someone asks you to be their date," Rachel said with an impish smile. "Quite a few girls fancy you, you know."

"Not even then," Connor said adamantly. "I'm not going."

"Oh, Connor, that's too bad," Amanda said, fluttering her eyelashes at him dramatically. "I was going to ask you to go with me."

Connor scowled at her, making her laugh. Connor knew full well that Amanda had recently started going out with his cousin, Shawn, who was a sixth year.

"I think it might be fun to go," Ivy said seriously. "I hardly ever get to wear dress robes and I never get to go dancing."

"I had to take dancing lessons," Quentin said with a faint grimace.

"What for?" Connor asked, smirking.

"My parents made me," Quentin said, "from the time I was five. They're always being invited to important business parties or some rot, and I usually end up having to go along if the host has any kids. They thought I should be able to fit in, and made me take dance, etiquette, elocution... you name it."

Connor made a horrible face to show his distaste at the idea of that sort of upbringing.

"My parents were a bit like that, too," Zack commiserated with a nod at Quentin. "Not that extreme, but they made sure I learned how to dance and how to behave in polite company."

"My dad taught me to dance," Ivy said with a smile. "He says that my mum taught him."

"My mother is a great dancer." Rachel sighed, obviously finding the subject romantic. "Dad will dance to please Mum, and every so often I'll catch them at it when they think us kids aren't around."

"All this talk of dancing is going to make me ill," Connor proclaimed. "I don't care if a full-blooded veela walks in and invites me, I'm not going."

"I could teach you to dance," Ivy offered brightly.

"I know how to dance," Connor told her impatiently. He didn't feel the need to add that he wasn't very good at it. "I just don't like to."

"Forget it, Ivy. He's hopeless." Rachel advised. "If you really do want to go, I'm sure we could find you a date old enough to attend."

Connor ignored the conversation from that point on, and looked forward to visiting Hogsmeade later in the morning. His supply of sweets was getting low, plus he wanted his uncles' advice on how much a photograph of the Marauder's Map could actually tell Rupert.

After breakfast, they went to gather their cloaks, then there was a mass exodus across the school grounds.

Connor reckoned that the unusually early snowfall this year had given many of the students cabin fever. Most of the students seemed anxious to see something outside of the castle walls.

Connor walked with Quentin, Ivy and Zack toward the village, feeling sorry once more that Rachel could not come with them.

"Any idea what Rachel's doing today while we're in Hogsmeade?" Connor asked.

"She said something about going to the library to work on the charm for finding books to copy the map," Zack said. "She's obsessed with finding out how and why the map answered you when you asked it about Mrs Norris."

"Is it just me," Ivy asked as they walked through the slushy cobbled street, "or is Filch acting even grumpier than usual lately?"

"It's not just you," Quentin said. "I saw him giving a Slytherin detention yesterday for sneezing in the Charms corridor. He almost never gives Slytherins detentions."

"He's definitely losing it now that his cat's gone," Ivy said.

"You're going to be going to the Yule ball," Connor said suddenly, looking over at Ivy.

Ivy stopped in her tracks and stared at him. "I am?"

Connor thought about it for a moment, then confirmed what he had just said. "Yes. I don't know who you're going to go with, but you're definitely going."

"Did you do your Occlumency this morning?" Quentin asked Connor.

"Yes," Connor said with a sigh. "Sometimes stuff just slips through."

"Do you need to do it again?" Zack asked.

Connor took a moment to consider, and found that other than the brief surety that Ivy was going to attend the ball, his mind was clear.

"No, I'm all right," he said, and resumed walking toward the High Street.

The others followed him, and when Ivy fell into step beside him, she asked, "So what colour am I going to wear?"

"For Merlin's sake!" Quentin said in exasperation. "This isn't going to be a shopping trip is it? Because if it is, I'm going to go hide in the Quidditch shop."

"I have some perfectly nice dress robes at home," Ivy said with a sniff. "I was just wondering which ones I should have my mother send."

"Thank goodness," Quentin said with relief. "It's bad enough when I have to go shopping with my mother and Vanessa."

"You were wearing something brown, but it was gold, too, kind of like two colours at once," Connor said in the hopes of thwarting an argument. "Like the colour of your eyes."

"I don't have robes like that." Ivy frowned, making Quentin cringe.

"Well, apparently you will soon," Connor said with a shrug. Wanting to change the subject, he asked, "Does anyone mind stopping in at the bookshop? I want to look for a book on potions. I think the original Marauders may have used one on the map, but I haven't found any books about anything like that in the library."

"They'd probably be in the restricted section if there were any," Zack said.

They trooped into the bookshop, and while Connor didn't find what he was looking for, he did find an interesting book on Occlumency that he decided to buy.

After that, they went to Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, but Connor was disappointed to find that his uncles weren't there. His grandmother, Molly, was there helping out, but he could hardly ask her about the map.

Hogsmeade, decorated with garlands and lights, was crowded with more than just students. Witches and wizards strolled the streets doing Christmas shopping, as well. Some students seemed to be using the Hogsmeade trip as an opportunity to meet their parents for a few hours, and there was a generally festive atmosphere around the village.

Connor and his friends went from store to store, browsing, making purchases and talking with friends about the upcoming Christmas holiday.

Close to lunchtime, Connor began to feel the beginning of a headache coming on. He told the others that he was going to stop in at Honeydukes, then go back to the castle, but told them that they didn't need to come with him.

"I'll probably just go to my room to do my Occlumency, anyway," Connor said dismissively when they offered to walk back with him. "Don't cut your day short on account of me."

Connor left his friends at the entrance to the Leaky Cauldron, then walked over to Honeydukes, where there was a large crowd of students.

The shop was noisy and hot. Connor gritted his teeth as he quickly gathered the sweets he wanted. He tried to focus on his purchase instead of the fact that Tammy Montrose was planning on sneaking out of her dormitory tonight to spy on two of the prefects she suspected were using their patrol time to snog.

It happened in just the blink of an eye, but Connor could hardly believe it: Rupert was in Hogsmeade.

Connor had just paid for his sweets and accepted his change when he saw a familiar blonde head duck behind the counter. Connor called out, "Hey!" but the shop was so noisy that no one really paid attention.

Rupert saw him, though, and panic shot through his expression before he darted through the door to the basement.

Connor knew that he would never catch Rupert by trying to follow him. He would have to try to beat him back to the school, then wait for him by the statue of the one-eyed witch.

As he shoved his way through the swarming shop and out into the cold air, Connor felt a small stab of pain in his temples, but ignored it. It was suddenly very important to him to catch Rupert red-handed. If Rachel wasn't allowed to sneak out to Hogsmeade, then Connor sure wasn't going to let Rupert get away with it.

As he ran back toward Hogwarts, Connor briefly toyed with the idea of trying to get a teacher to come with him to catch Rupert, but thought better of it. That would raise uncomfortable questions about the passageway itself, and Connor didn't want it closed off.

Out of breath, with his head pounding, Connor was almost to the front steps of the school entrance when he had to stop to rest. He bent double and sucked in great gulps of air while massaging a stitch in his side.

"Mr Potter! Are you all right?" Connor looked up to see Professor McGonagall at the top of the steps in front of the main entrance to the school, looking down at him with concern. "I could see you running back to Hogwarts from the window. Is there something wrong?"

She had started to descend the stairs toward him when Connor suddenly stiffened and called, "Look out, Professor!" Professor McGonagall instantly stepped backward, just as a number of huge icicles fell from and overhang and crashed to the stones below, very near where she'd just been standing."

Unfortunately, in her shuffle backward, Professor McGonagall had lost her footing and slipped on a patch of ice. Connor watched in horror as Professor McGonagall's feet slid out from beneath her and, with a cry of surprise, she crashed to the ground, hard.

.

"Professor!" Connor was moving almost before McGonagall cried out. He pulled off the mittens he had been wearing and dropped all of his parcels as he knelt down beside her. He knew that he should get some help, but he didn't want to leave her unconscious on the cold ground.

"Professor, can you hear me?" he asked her desperately, moaning when his hands suddenly flared, itching like mad as he took McGonagall's hand in his own. She didn't move at all.

He looked her over and saw that her leg was resting at on odd angle. It just had to be broken to look that way.

Connor could feel his heart galloping in his chest as he tried to focus past the pain in his head and the distraction of his hands. What should he do?

Finally, Connor's hands, as if acting of their own accord, reached out, guiding Connor along until they rested on McGonagall's injured leg.

His breath coming short, Connor blinked away the haze that suddenly coated his vision, and realized that his hands had stopped itching: they were now tingling and beginning to feel very warm. His chest began to feel somewhat congested, but it only lasted a moment or two. His head felt as though he'd been hit from behind with a Bludger, but that pain was only fleeting as well. Connor felt as if he were suffering a dozen little injuries and illnesses in the space of a minute, each of them fading away to be replaced by another until they were all gone.

From that point, his hands began to get rapidly warmer until they were hot, and he hissed in pain as he found he couldn't pull them away. His hands were rooted to the spot, yet seemed to be working, doing something without his consent. He watched helplessly as, after about a minute more, Professor McGonagall's leg began to straighten itself out.

McGonagall woke at that point and gasped. Connor looked up at her from where he was kneeling by her injured leg, and saw that she looked confused and a bit frightened. He could see her lips moving, but he wasn't sure that any sound was coming out. He realized that there was a tremendous amount of noise that he recognised as mental static; it was like trying to hear her from the opposite end of the Quidditch stadium.

Suddenly the heat in his hands reached a nearly unbearable level. Connor cried out in pain as he tried, again, to let go of McGonagall's leg, but found it impossible. She was saying something to him, gesturing urgently, but he couldn't hear her over the roaring in his ears.

All at once, normal sound returned and Connor heard a loud CRACK that reminded him briefly of the sound a boggart made when changing shape; then his right leg was speared with a sharp pain.

The last thing he heard was Professor McGonagall shouting at someone to bloody well drop whatever they were holding and to help her. Then the darkness, thankfully, swallowed him.

#*#*#*#*#*#

The first thing that Connor became aware of was pain. His entire body ached as though he had fallen from his broom and landed head first onto rock. He couldn't be bothered to open his eyes, and the groan he let out was raspy and hurt his throat.

"Connor?"

Connor didn't recognise the voice that said his name; it sounded as though it was coming from far away. He slowly became aware of hundreds of other voices in his head, all of them seeming to whisper incoherently. He vaguely realized that he needed to do his Occlumency to shut it out, but didn't know if he had the energy for it. He was utterly exhausted.

"Connor?" The voice sounded slightly closer this time, and sounded female.

"Potter, can you open your eyes?" This was a different voice, more familiar. "Mr Potter, open your eyes at once!" Connor recognised Professor Snape's voice and reckoned he must have fallen asleep during a Potions lesson. He forced his eyes open, then shut them quickly again, shielding them with his arm against the light and the stab of pain it caused.

"Well at least we know he can hear us," Connor heard Professor Snape's satisfied voice say.

Connor groaned again, and tried to let the darkness drift over him once more.

"Oh, no you don't," came the female voice again. Connor didn't want to stay awake any longer, and was frustrated when he felt his shoulders being pulled on, forcing him to sit up.

"Give him a minute," Snape said, though Connor didn't open his eyes. "Let's make sure he isn't going to be sick before we give it to him."

It turned out to be wise advice. Connor retched almost immediately as the pain in his head shot viciously from ear to ear, almost making him black out. He was too weak to do anything but allow Snape and the woman (Madam Cosgrove?) to tend to him.

He heard muttered charms and vague noises all around him, all with the underlying chatter of voices and snippets of visions passing behind his eyes in a blur.

"Keep breathing, Connor!" Professor Snape's stern command brought Connor's attention back to the present, and he dutifully sucked in a deep breath, that turned out to be more of a wheeze.

"Should we transport him to St. Mungo's?" the woman asked. She sounded really worried.

"He's not stable enough," Snape's voice answered tersely. "Tell them to send someone."

There was a sound of scurrying footsteps before Snape spoke again.

"I want you to listen to me, Potter," Snape growled sternly in Connor's ear. "You need to drink this potion. It will help with the pain, and it will keep you conscious and breathing, but you will still be tired. Do you understand?"

"Want to sleep," Connor croaked, refusing to open his eyes.

"You may not sleep," Snape snapped. "After you drink the potion, you will concentrate on closing your mind. Push everything from your mind and think of nothing but doing your Occlumency. Is that clear?"

Connor groaned, and forced his eyes open just a tiny bit to see Professor Snape, looking odd in his shirtsleeves, supporting him with one arm while holding a phial of green murky liquid in the other hand.

"Open your mouth, Connor," Professor Snape told him in a gentler tone.

Connor let his mouth fall open, vaguely aware that his lips were dry and gummy-feeling as they parted. Snape brought the phial to Connor's mouth and tipped the liquid in, then dropped the phial and massaged Connor's throat to help him to swallow.

Connor coughed a bit as the sour-tasting liquid went down, but felt some of the pain in his head recede almost immediately as his breathing became less laboured. Some of the drowsiness was leaving him, as well, though he still felt drained.

"Connor," Snape said in his ear as he eased the boy back against the pillows he had just conjured. "If you can keep your eyes open, I want to have a look at what's going on inside your head. I want you to start your Occlumency, and I'm going to attempt a weak legilimens spell on you to monitor your condition. Do you understand?"

"The hellebore you used for the purgative was harvested at the new moon," Connor mumbled, seeing phantoms in his head. "That's why it failed."

"I'm going to take that as a yes," Snape said sardonically, pulling up a chair. He withdrew his wand and pointed it at Connor. "Legilimens!"

Connor was only hazily aware that Snape was beside him, and concentrated on following the directions that he'd been given. Push it all out. Occlumency. Don't...fall...asleep....

*#*#*#*#*#*#

Connor became aware of himself again by degrees. The first thing he noticed was the smell--he was definitely in the hospital wing. There were quiet murmurs of people talking nearby, but the voices were indistinct. The fact that they weren't coming from inside his head was a relief.

What was he doing in the hospital wing? Connor sort of recalled Snape shouting at him to open his eyes and thinking that he must have fallen asleep in class. That couldn't be right, could it? Connor never fell asleep in Potions. Other thoughts drifted in and out of his memory, but Connor was unsure which of them were real, and was too tired to puzzle it out at the moment.

Instead, Connor silently took stock of how he felt.

His head ached a bit, but nothing unbearable. His body felt slightly stiff, but not overly painful. His hands didn't itch or burn or tingle--all good signs. In fact, the worst thing that Connor felt was a bad case of dry mouth. He was very thirsty, and his stomach felt completely empty.

When he risked opening his eyes, he was grateful to find the room was only dimly lit; it appeared to be nighttime. It took his eyes a moment to adjust before everything swam into focus. Connor saw that his parents were sitting at his bedside, holding hands, with his mum's head on his dad's shoulder. Beside them was his Aunt Hermione, immersed in some sort of thick book.

Turning his eyes in the other direction, Connor found that Professor Dumbledore was sitting serenely in an armchair, talking quietly over the bed to Ginny and Harry.

"Mum?" Connor rasped after a moment of trying to work up enough saliva to speak.

"Connor!" Ginny was instantly on her feet, leaning over Connor, stroking his hair gently.

Connor swallowed thickly and said, "What is everyone doing here?"

"You had a bit of an accident," Ginny told him with a watery smile. "Do you remember?"

"An accident?" Connor asked, trying to recall anything.

A woman the Connor had never seen before came into the room, wearing the lime-green robes of a St. Mungo's healer.

"Is he allowed to have water?" Harry asked her at once.

"So he's awake, is he?" the healer asked, shooing Ginny away with a gesture of her hand. "How are you feeling, young man?"

"Thirsty," Connor answered. "And tired and hungry and confused."

The healer chuckled and conjured a glass of water with a straw. She held the straw to his lips, and he sipped gratefully, sighing in pleasure once his mouth was moistened.

"I am Healer Wright. Do you feel up to answering some questions for me?"

Connor looked over at his parents to see them smiling before he nodded.

"What day is it?" Healer Wright asked.

Connor was surprised to find that he didn't know the answer to that simple question.

"I don't know," he admitted, feeling embarrassed.

"What's the last thing you remember?" she asked kindly, checking his pulse.

"I remember Professor Snape," Connor told her. "He yelled at me to open my eyes. He gave me a potion."

"That's fine," she said in a soothing voice. "How about before that? What's the last thing you recall?"

"I was in Honeydukes," Connor said after a minute's consideration. "I saw Rupert there."

"Rupert?" Healer Wright asked encouragingly.

"Rupert Dursley is my cousin's son," Harry supplied quietly. "He's a first-year at Hogwarts. He shouldn't have been in Hogsmeade."

"Right," Connor agreed tiredly. "He was in Honeydukes, and I ran back to the castle to try and catch him. Could I have some more water?

The healer held the straw for him again, then asked, "Do you remember anything after that?"

Connor tried to think, but his memories were becoming fuzzy. "I got back to the castle, and saw Professor McGonagall. She..." Connor felt his heart rate pick up, and wasn't sure why, then suddenly remembered something. "She fell! Is she all right? She wouldn't wake up!"

"She's fine," Dumbledore said calmly from beside him. "Professor McGonagall is in excellent health. You needn't worry about that."

"Do you remember anything after that?" Healer Wright prompted.

"Only the bit about Snape giving me a potion," Connor said after thinking hard about it.

"Nothing about the trip to St. Mungo's?" she asked, peering into his eyes with her lit wand.

"I'm at St. Mungo's?" Connor asked, shocked.

"Good," Healer Wright said after checking his eyes. "Yes, you're at St. Mungo's. How about if I go find you a tray of dinner? I'm sure that Dumbledore and your parents have a lot to talk to you about."

Connor's stomach grumbled at the mention of dinner, so he nodded and watched Healer Wright bustle away.

"What day is it?" Connor asked, feeling uneasy now.

"It's Wednesday evening," Harry told him quietly. "You've been here since Saturday night."

"You're joking!" Connor said incredulously. "What happened to me?"

Connor watched as his aunt Hermione moved over to a seat beside Dumbledore, and everyone pulled their chairs closer to his bed.

"Connor," Professor Dumbledore began. "We believe that we have discovered why you have been having troubles with your hands this year. If we are correct, it may also explain the recent sudden increase in your precognitive abilities."

"It all fits," Hermione murmured, setting the book she had been reading down at the foot of the bed. "All of it. The dates even match up exactly."

"What are you talking about?" Connor asked, baffled.

"Con," Harry said, laying his hand on covers over Connor's leg. "Do you remember when your broom's tail twigs cut Ivy's arm a couple of months ago?"

"Yes," Connor said warily. What could this possibly have to do with why he was in St. Mungo's?

"Madam Cosgrove thought that you healed her with accidental magic," Harry said. "But it might not have been so accidental after all."

"Well, I didn't do it on purpose," Connor objected.

He was getting nervous with the way that his mother was gripping his hand so tightly, and the mere fact the Professor Dumbledore was present. Was he in some kind of trouble? Had he broken some strange law?

"Perhaps not consciously," Professor Dumbledore said. "But you did heal her deliberately."

"I don't understand," Connor complained. Why couldn't adults ever just get right to the point about stuff?

"Connor," Hermione said, "Have you ever heard of a healer by the name of Halima Mwenda?"

"No?" Connor answered, looking at his parents for a clue as to whether or not he should know that name.

"She was something of an empathic healer," Hermione told him. "She lived in a remote village in Kenya."

"Okaaay?" Connor said, wondering if his brain was addled. Aunt Hermione had a tendency to talk about things he didn't understand, but this was really beyond the norm.

"She healed her patients," Dumbledore interrupted with a chuckle, "without charms or potions, when all other remedies failed. She was able to simply lay her hands on her patients and let the magic take over. She healed mostly by instinct, it's said, and lived like a hermit in later years, apparently overwhelmed by the celebrity her gifts brought her."

"What does that have to do with me?" Connor asked.

"There are only three known healers of this nature on the planet at any given time," Dumbledore said gravely. "We don't know why, or how the talent is passed on, but there has never been more than three. They have also always been witches, as far as we can discern."

"What does this have to do with Ivy and what I'm doing in St. Mungo's?" Connor asked.

"Halima Mwenda died on the same day that you were born, Connor," Hermione said. "Since then, no new Healer had come to light. We think that you inherited her gift. We think you're the third Healer."

Connor looked at his Aunt Hermione blankly for a moment, and then did the only thing that made any sense. He laughed.