Foreshadowing the Unexpected

Chapter 15 - Keeping It Secret

Man is the only creature that refuses to be what he is. - Albert Camus

Connor couldn't help it. The very idea that he was some sort of empathic healer was just plain ludicrous! He laughed at what had to be some sort of elaborate joke; waiting to hear the real reason he was here in St Mungo's.

"Connor," Ginny said in a low warning tone.

Connor immediately stopped laughing, realizing that Aunt Hermione looked slightly annoyed.

No one else was laughing, either.

"I'm sorry," Connor said, "but Professor Dumbledore just said that these special healers are witches. I'm not a witch. And I still don't see what this has to do with my hands and how I ended up at St Mungo's."

"Your case seems to be unique in several different ways, Connor," Dumbledore said quietly. "But it is almost certain that you fit the criteria of a potentially powerful healer. In fact, in retrospect, you've been exhibiting signs of it since you were a small child. It's only recently that your gifts have moved to the forefront of your consciousness. It could be the onset of puberty that has unlocked them, or it could be the trauma of being hit by multiple Stunning Spells at the Ministry of Magic last spring. It could simply be that your stronger talents are emerging now because you are finally growing into them, so to speak."

Connor locked eyes with his father. "Could one of you please explain what's going on in words I can understand?" he asked. "Because none of this is making any sense."

"Dumbledore thinks that your precognition was the first clue, even though we didn't recognize it at the time, that you could be one of these healers he's talking about," Harry said. "Your ability to read peoples' moods or predict their actions might actually be an empathic talent that's part of what a healer uses to figure out what's wrong with someone who needs healing."

"So my precognition isn't really precognition after all?" Connor asked with raised eyebrows. This all sounded pretty far-fetched to him.

"You do have precognitive abilities," Dumbledore corrected him. "The other healers showed only limited precognitive abilities before their talents were discovered, but that may be because none of them was practicing Occlumency at the time, and so their talents were, er, diagnosed earlier. We suspect that teaching you Occlumency actually may have been masking your true talents. You will require training to fully master them."

"My true talents?" Connor wasn't sure he wanted to hear the rest of this. His head was already beginning to ache again.

"Healing," Ginny said quietly, squeezing his hand in a comforting gesture. "Using your clairvoyance to diagnose others' illnesses or injuries."

Connor scrubbed over his face tiredly with his free hand. He asked the first question that popped into him mind, from the hundreds swimming around in his head, "What has this got to do with my hands?"

"We think that your hands have been itching whenever you're near someone with an illness or injury, because your magic wants to heal them. The itching is your magic's way of trying to urge you to act," Hermione said knowledgably. "The Occlumency has been keeping that at bay so far. That's why we didn't recognise it for what it really was."

Connor was stunned to find that Hermione was right. He tried to remember some of the times when his hands had itched badly, in almost every case that came to mind, someone near him had suffered some sort of injury or illness. Evidently doing his Occlumency helped to block out the signals, so that his magic didn't jump to respond.

"I just don't--I can't..." Connor couldn't wrap his head around such an enormous idea and what it all might mean for him.

"Here we are!" Healer Wright's cheerful voice came as a much-needed interruption for Connor. She came in bearing a tray with broth and juice, and some pearly liquid in a short glass. "After you finish the soup and the juice, drink the potion there. It will help you regain your strength and sleep comfortably. We'll want to keep you here for one more day, for observation."

Connor didn't even protest at the prospect of being confined to bed for another. He simply picked up the spoon, surprised at how weak he felt, and slowly sipped at the warm broth. The healer fussed for a moment more, and them left the room to give them some privacy.

"This is a lot to take in," Dumbledore said kindly, getting slowly to his feet, "and there is still more research to do before we can be absolutely certain about anything. Mrs Weasley and I will be on our way to look into matters further."

Hermione stood and kissed Connor's forehead affectionately, saying, "We'll find the answers for you, Connor. Take care."

Connor nodded in agreement, since it was the simplest thing he could do. He didn't know what to think about what they had just told him about himself, but he did know that they never would have told him about it if they didn't believe they were right.

"And, Connor," Dumbledore said from the doorway, "please don't want to talk to anyone else about this--not even the healers here. If your hands begin to trouble you, you should work on Occluding your mind. Do not leave your room unaccompanied."

Connor nodded again, staring briefly at the empty doorway after Dumbledore had gone.

"Mum," Connor said quietly, staring unseeingly into his bowl, willing tears not to start, "Dad? What if I don't want to be a healer?"

"Oh, honey," Ginny said gently as she leaned forward to stroke his hair, "I don't think this is something you get to choose."

Connor felt a heavy weight fall on his chest at this statement. He took a couple of deep breaths in an effort to dispel the gloom that was settling inside of him.

"Connor--" Harry came around to the other side of the bed and sat down, "--just because you have these abilities, doesn't mean that you have to grow up to be a healer as a profession."

Connor looked up at his father, hope burgeoning inside of him. "Really?"

"It's just something that you are," Harry assured him, "just like being a wizard; it's a part of you that you need to learn to live with."

"But if there are only three of these Healers on the planet at any given time, won't everyone expect me to--" Connor began.

"We don't care what others expect," Ginny said firmly. "We care about you being happy. You might very well decide that you do want to be a healer, but if you decide to be a butcher, a baker or broomstick maker, we'll support you."

"But until then," Harry said, "you're going to need training. After what happened with Professor McGonagall, it's clear that it would be dangerous to let you--"

"Wait," Connor said. "What happened with Professor McGonagall? You said she was fine!"

"She is fine, Connor," Ginny assured him. "Because of you."

"I don't get it," Connor said, trying to remember anything from the point he'd seen McGonagall slip on the ice. Nothing came to mind.

"We don't know the entire story," Ginny said, urging him to continue eating his soup. "Professor McGonagall says that she went outside to see why you were running back to the castle in such a hurry, and then you shouted for her to look out, and she fell while trying to move out of the way of some falling ice."

"Falling ice." Connor tried to recall. "I don't remember."

"That's okay," she told him, pushing his juice forward in a gentle reminder to drink it. "Professor McGonagall said that she blacked out, and when she came to, you were kneeling next to her with your hands on her leg, and it felt hot."

Connor sipped at his juice, feeling like his mother was telling him a story about someone else--he had no recollection at all of trying to help McGonagall.

"Burning hot, she said," Harry added. "And she said that you didn't appear to hear her when she shouted at you to stop,"

"Then she said that she heard a loud crack, and that it was clear that your leg had suddenly broken," Ginny said. "She saw Professor Snape then, and called to him for help just as you passed out."

"My leg broke?" Connor asked sceptically. He flexed his legs weakly beneath the covers and felt no pain, so he assumed they had healed him at the time of the break. "For no reason?"

Harry and Ginny looked at each other for a moment as if deciding what to say next.

"Connor," Harry finally said, "from what they could tell, Professor McGonagall broke her leg in the fall, and when you healed her, you kind of absorbed her injury. You took it into yourself, and then your own body healed the break at an extremely accelerated rate."

"Apparently it wasn't just her leg you healed," Ginny continued. "Professor McGonagall said that she had been suffering from a deep chest cold at the time, and once she was examined, there wasn't a trace of it left; or of the eyesight problems or rheumatism she'd been having troubles with before. It seems like your magic took over and healed it all."

Connor sat silently for a minute, letting this new information sink in. "Ivy," he said at last. "When I healed her, there was blood on my robes, too. It must have been mine."

Harry nodded thoughtfully. "You're probably right."

"What happened after that? Why did they bring me to St. Mungo's?" Connor asked.

"Connor," Ginny said, her eyes welling with tears. Harry reached across the bed to take her hand. "You almost died."

That gave him a jolt.

"Died?" Connor asked incredulously. "How?"

"Professor Snape said that your mind was wide open to outside influences. Apparently, everything came flooding into your mind and began playing havoc with your system," Harry explained. "He believes that your Occlumency defences were already breaking down when you met Professor McGonagall, making you more vulnerable to losing control the way you did. Your brain couldn't process everything that was happening to it, and was trying shut your body down, because your mind couldn't focus on any one thing."

"I had a headache," Connor remembered. "I left my friends in Hogsmeade and decided to stop at Honeydukes before going back to the castle to do my Occlumency. Then I saw Rupert."

"If you chased Rupert back up to the castle," Harry asked, "how is it that you couldn't catch him? I don't think he can run that fast. And why didn't Professor McGonagall see him as well?"

"I wasn't exactly chasing him," Connor admitted uncomfortably. "I was trying to get back to the castle to catch him before he got there."

Harry eyed him suspiciously.

"So after I, er, passed out, Snape and Professor McGonagall got me to the hospital wing?" Connor asked, trying to change the subject before he had to explain about the secret passage and the map.

"They pretty much figured out right away that you'd healed Professor McGonagall," Ginny said. "But you were in such bad shape that they didn't have time to consider what it meant. Professor Snape got you to come around long enough to get some potion into you, and to tell you that you needed to Occlude."

"He used a Legilimens spell on you to make sure you could handle it, and once you got things under control in here--" Harry reached up to tap Connor's head softly, "--you lost consciousness again."

"We didn't know what was wrong with you at the time, then the healer that Madam Cosgrove called from St. Mungo's came to check on you and advised them to bring you here."

"So, when did you find out I could be one of these healers?" Connor asked, beginning to feel a strange sense of detachment toward the whole story.

"Once you were brought here, and we knew you would be all right, we pieced everything together," Harry said.

"It was Hermione who figured it out," Ginny said with a smile. "She contacted Dumbledore with her observations, and he thought the idea was worth looking into."

"And all of the pieces fit," Connor surmised gloomily.

"All the pieces fit," Ginny agreed. "Now drink your potion. It's getting late. You still need to do your Occlumency to keep your hands from going nuts here--too many sick people."

To Connor's surprise, he found that he was very tired. The small bowl of broth and glass of juice had, remarkably, filled him up, even though he hadn't had anything solid for more than three days.

His mind was swirling with everything he'd been told, and he knew that he wouldn't be able to take it all in unless his was rested and clear-headed. He knew he'd have plenty of questions about everything later, but for now, he dutifully drank the potion, and settled back onto his pillows

"We'll be back in the morning," Harry told Connor as Ginny tucked in their son.

Connor was already half asleep by the time they'd kissed his forehead and gone through the door.

-------------------0-----------------

Connor woke the next morning to find that the sun had just barely risen. He felt wide-awake, though, and nature was calling him. He spotted a loo just a few paces from his bed and he wondered if he could make it there on his own. He still felt awfully weak. Easing his feet to the cold floor and shivering, he cursed the thin hospital robe he wore before carefully testing to see if his legs would support him.

He had just stood up and taken a tentative step when the door flew open, and a healer marched in. "What do you think you're doing, young man?"

"Er," Connor said, gesturing to the toilet. "I need to go."

"So you thought you'd just hop out of bed and walk around on your own?" the healer demanded curtly.

"Yes?" Connor said tentatively.

The healer strode forward, took his arm, and helped him into the toilet. He was relieved when she didn't insist on staying in the room with him. He hurriedly relieved himself and washed his hands.

The mirror above the sink told him that he needed a haircut.

"But you have very pretty eyes, dear," it said cheerfully.

Connor studied his reflection for a moment and decided that he did need a haircut and that he was very pale and tired-looking.

"Are you finished, Mr Potter?" the healer's voice called through the door.

"Yes," Connor answered, turning away from the sink.

Before he could open the door, she had come in and taken his arm again.

"I'm not an invalid," Connor said grumpily. "I can walk."

"Connor," Ginny scolded.

Connor ducked his head when he noticed his parents had arrived, and quietly apologised for being rude to the healer.

"I've had worse patients than you, my boy," the healer said cheerfully. "Like that one, there." She pointed to Harry.

"I wasn't that bad, Madam Pomfrey!" Harry protested indignantly.

The healer merely looked at him blandly, making Harry blush. She said something about hunting up a breakfast tray and departed.

Connor grinned at his father's embarrassment as he climbed back into the bed. However, he started when he saw that Professor Snape was sitting stiffly in a chair near the foot of his bed.

"Professor Snape!" Connor said in surprise.

"Potter." Snape inclined his head in acknowledgement.

There was a short silence where Connor tried to think of what to say. Why would his Potions professor be visiting him here? Then he remembered that Snape had pretty much saved his life.

"They told me that you helped me back on Saturday," Connor said hesitantly. "Thanks."

"No thanks are necessary, Potter," Snape told him shortly. "Seeing to the safety of Hogwarts students is part of my job."

Connor looked over at his parents, whom were both smirking at the Potions Master.

"Well," Connor said lamely. "Thank you, anyway."

"No doubt you are wondering what I am doing here?" Snape asked bluntly.

"It had crossed my mind," Connor admitted sheepishly. "I mean you probably have classes and all."

"Professor Lyra is skilled adequately enough in potions to handle my first year students this morning, should I fail to make it back to the castle in time," Snape said dryly. "Professor Dumbledore asked me to come and meet with you."

"Why?" Connor asked, confused.

"He shared with me your, shall we say, unique abilities, and thought I might be of some service," Snape told him with a rather sour expression.

Connor wasn't sure what Professor Dumbledore thought Snape could do about him being a healer, and said so.

"Connor," Ginny said patiently, "right now, you can't control the need to try to heal the ill or injured--especially when your Occlumency breaks down. This makes you very vulnerable."

"So Professor Snape is going to make me a potion to help me keep control?" Connor asked.

"Of course not," Snape snapped impatiently. "It is of the utmost importance that you learn to master your impulses, but it is equally important to be able to use your skills to their maximum benefit. To do that, you must learn that you don't have to rely solely on your healing abilities to help others."

"What he's saying," Harry said with a half-hearted glare at Snape, "is that we want you to start studying more advanced potions, especially in the area of medicine. Professor Snape has graciously agreed to tutor you in that area."

Connor sat silently for a moment, thinking about this new information.

"If you learn how to heal people a bit more traditionally before using your gift, it will be less taxing on your system," Ginny said gently. "You're going to need to take extra studies in Medi-Charms, as well."

"How am I going to do all this on top of all of my other classes?" Connor asked. "I thought no one was supposed to know about the healing stuff--how am I going to hide it when I have to take a bunch of extra lessons?"

"Your grades have been sufficient to have you placed in an advanced Potions class," Snape said, as though it were painful to admit. "You show a pronounced aptitude for the subject, so no one would dare question the placement. Any additional training you need will take place under the guise of detention served with me. Merlin knows you'd deserve it."

Connor did his best not to scowl at the surly professor.

"Madam Cosgrove has also agreed to teach you some basic healing charms once we figure out a schedule that won't arouse suspicions," Ginny told him.

"Why can't I just be a normal kid?" Connor groaned.

"Because you are not a normal kid," Professor Snape said acerbically. "You've been given a gift that many witches and wizards can only dream of. I will not see it wasted over foolish desires to be like everyone else."

Connor stared at the Professor during this outburst.

"You will work hard in the advanced class," Snape told Connor sternly. "I will accept nothing less than your best. You can no longer afford to carry your friends through their lessons; you will need to concentrate on your own. You're too intelligent to waste your talents that way."

The room fell silent after this and Connor wondered who was more amazed at Snape's compliment. The quiet was only broken by the arrival of Professor Dumbledore and Hermione. They were followed closely by the healer, bearing a tray of thin porridge a slice of toast, more juice and potions.

"Good morning Poppy," Dumbledore greeted the healer with a fond smile.

"Dumbledore," the healer nodded as she set Connor's tray down. "You're looking well."

Dumbledore settled into a chair beside Professor Snape, and Hermione took up a seat beside Harry. The healer gave a few instructions, and tactfully left the room.

Connor spooned up some of the porridge, and waited to see what other news was going to be dumped on him. When no one spoke, he decided to ask one of the questions that had been bothering him.

"What about my Occlumency? Why is it failing on me?"

"It is not so much failing you," Professor Dumbledore said, "as it is being broken down. Your sensitivity to others around you makes it hard for you to keep that protective shield around you, because your magic is fighting to pull it down against your wishes. The healing magic wants to be freed so that it can sense those in need of healing. When you are concentrating particularly hard on another matter--playing Quidditch, for instance--your concentration in other areas, like Occlumency, slips. It doesn't help that you are surrounded by hundreds of excited individuals a good deal of the time."

"My magic is working against me?" Connor asked, appalled.

"Yes and no," Dumbledore said reassuringly. "Your healing magic lacks the proper focus and control, and so is always searching for a way to burst out. As this part of your magic grows, the shields that you erect with Occlumency become easier to defeat. Your mind is at war with your heart, to put it in simple terms."

"So how do I fix that?" Connor asked, beginning to feel afraid of what was happening inside of him.

"By strengthening and focussing your mind," Snape said abruptly.

Dumbledore nodded, and agreed, "It would seem that you will need intensive training in a stronger form of Occlumency than you have needed thus far."

"Will Clive be able to do that?" Connor asked hopefully.

"I'm afraid that Clive is under contract with his current employers for another six months," Dumbledore said apologetically. "And this matter will not wait that long. You need to have someone teach you how to Occlude your mind fully and constantly, and it will need to begin almost immediately."

"If I might suggest..." Professor Snape began.

Connor was startled when his father leapt to his feet and said vehemently, "No! You're not going to be the one to teach him!"

Connor stared in surprise at his father, and Ginny looked annoyed as she pulled Harry back into his seat. Hermione looked slightly amused, but said nothing.

"Harry!" Ginny said. "I don't care if they want to bring Gilderoy Lockhart in here to teach him! You will not let stupid old wounds keep our son from getting the training he needs. If Snape, or anyone else, can give Connor the help he needs, then so be it!"

Harry had the grace to look abashed, but Connor could tell that he didn't like the idea of Snape teaching him Occlumency.

"As I was saying before that outburst," Snape said silkily. "I would suggest approaching Professor Lyra about training Connor. Tara is an excellent Occlumens, and has far more patience than I could ever hope to have. Being a seer is also a factor in her favour, as she will no doubt understand Connor's situation better than most. I understand that this recent discovery about Connor's abilities is of the utmost secrecy, so you will naturally want to check into the matter for yourselves."

"Do you feel she is trustworthy, Severus?" Dumbledore asked calmly.

"Personally? I would trust her without hesitation," Snape said simply.

"Coming from Snape," Harry conceded, "that's no small recommendation. He doesn't trust anyone."

Professor Snape merely stared back at Harry with a bland expression.

"I'm going to have to take three extra classes?" Connor asked in a tone perilously close to a whine. "Potions, Healing Charms and Occlumency?"

"You will also need to be trained to use your natural healing abilities, but that will have to wait until an appropriate instructor can be found," Professor Dumbledore said. "Perhaps you could spend the summer with one of the other healers."

"Who are the other healers?" Connor asked warily. He didn't like the sound of having to give up his summer to study healing, especially if he was going to end up unconscious every time he healed someone.

"Wen Kuaihao," Hermione said at once, "lives in China, for the most part, but lives a nomadic lifestyle, going wherever there's a need for her. She's a hundred and three years old. She spent the first three decades of her adult years using her talents to make money, and became very, very wealthy before turning to a more altruistic existence."

"I don't believe that she speaks any English," Dumbledore said thoughtfully. "And from what I know of her, wouldn't welcome a young apprentice."

"The other is Drina Ayala," Hermione said, obviously having researched the topic thoroughly. "She lives in a remote village in South America, and lives a simple life helping those who seek her out."

"How old is she?" Connor asked, somewhat relieved that his potential mentor was not going to be a very old Chinese woman who spoke no English.

"She's in her sixties, though there wasn't an exact date of birth," Hermione said. "And she does speak some English."

"Then, with the Potters' permission," Dumbledore announced, "I think we should look into seeing if she might be a suitable candidate to help Connor."

"As for you taking on three extra classes," Hermione said, "you won't be taking an extra Potions class, really, but switching to a more advanced one instead. Your sessions with Madam Cosgrove will have to be taken as time and opportunity permit. We don't want to arouse any suspicions about why you're suddenly learning healing charms. Professor Flitwick might also prove helpful in that department."

"The one I'm most concerned about is his Occlumency," Harry said. "If Connor's magic is going to keep pushing him into dangerous situations, that will have to be the first thing he addresses. If he can't get a handle on it quickly, he won't be able to stay at Hogwarts."

Connor's heart stumbled in his chest, and he was about to protest, loudly, but was never given the chance.

"Agreed," Professor Dumbledore said contentedly. "Though I doubt that it will come to such drastic measures. I will approach Professor Lyra, or perhaps Severus would be the better person to do that? I believe that they have an established rapport that could help to sway her to our cause."

Connor listened to the adults around him talk about and plan his future. His head was pounding and he had an intense feeling of dread. His appetite had completely fled, while his stomach attempted to tie itself in knots.

"Mr Potter, kindly refrain from tearing the skin from your hands," Professor Snape said sharply, breaking Connor from his morose thoughts.

Ginny immediately grabbed his hands and asked, "Did you do your Occlumency last night?"

"No," Connor said, realizing that the nagging headache forming behind his eyes might not be entirely from stress. "The potion completely knocked me out. I didn't do it this morning, either."

"Careless," Snape muttered in disgust. He surged to his feet and pulled out his wand, pointing it toward Connor.

In an instant, Harry was on his feet with his own wand drawn. "What are you doing, Snape?"

"I am merely checking to see how dire his current state is," Snape said with an exaggerated sigh.

Ginny tugged at Harry's sleeve, urging him to back down.

"It's okay, Dad," Connor said cautiously into the tense atmosphere, while Ginny grabbed at his hand as he tried to scratch again. "He did it before, remember? You told me he helped me back at Hogwarts."

Harry looked from Snape to Connor before nodding reluctantly and sitting back down.

Snape wasted no time in looking into Connor's eyes and muttering, "Legilimens!"

Connor felt the familiar tug at his mind, and didn't resist the gentle probing.

After a few moments, Snape broke the connection and said calmly, "His state of mind is much improved from the mess it was in last time I looked. He should be well able to handle Occlumency on his own for now."

"Thank you, Professor," Ginny said quietly.

Snape nodded once in acknowledgement, then excused himself to go and speak with Professor Lyra before taking over his classes for the day.

"Harry!" Hermione said reprovingly once Snape had left. "Do you honestly think that Severus Snape was about to do anything to Connor with all of us here?"

"Sorry," Harry said with a frown, "force of habit."

"The two of you have been allies for far longer than you were enemies," Professor Dumbledore pointed out with a smile.

"I know," Harry admitted ruefully. "I just don't like the idea of him being inside Connor's head. We may have fought a war together, but I never did learn to like the bast... er, man."

"You don't have to like him," Hermione said. "Just remember that you can trust him."

Curiously, Connor watched the adults interact and generally act as if he wasn't there. He was sure that neither of his parents would ever have spoken this way about one of his teachers in front of him if they knew he was paying such close attention.

"I think," Professor Dumbledore said, "that we should all step out and let Connor do his Occlumency exercises and finish his breakfast."

"I'm not really hungry," Connor said, pushing his tray away after eyeing the now-cold porridge.

"You need to have something in your stomach to take the potions," Hermione pointed out. "How about if we come back in an hour with something a little more palatable?"

Connor agreed, and watched them all leave him in peace. He settled back on his pillows and went about painstakingly clearing his mind.

When he came back to awareness, Connor found a new breakfast tray in front of him, and Ginny and Hermione sitting side by side, talking quietly.

"Where's Dad?" he asked as he picked up his fork. The scrambled eggs seemed much more appetizing than the porridge had, and he dug in happily.

"He went home to get the boys and Lucy," Ginny said. "They've been worried about you and wanted to see you before you go back to Hogwarts tonight."

"Adam's not bringing Snowball, is he?" Connor asked suspiciously.

"No," Ginny chuckled. "I'm sure he's not."