Foreshadowing the Unexpected

The morning following the Yule Ball was a busy one. There were students scattered everywhere around the castle searching for last minute items to pack, dragging or levitating their trunks down to the Great hall, exchanging last minute Christmas gifts and generally acting excited about going home.

McGonagall had called for Ivy and Zack and assigned them both three days' worth of detention after the holiday; she gave Richard McCaughy the same.

Connor thought it funny that Victoria was no longer speaking to Zack. Instead, she spent her time with her new boyfriend, the ill-abused Richard, assuring him that it was completely unfair for him to get detention, too.

Eventually, though, Connor's turn to use the Floo came at four o'clock. Zack, Ivy and Quentin had left not long ago. He said goodbye to Rachel, stepped into the grate and was whisked away from Hogwarts.

"Here he comes!"

Connor could hear Adam's excited shout seconds before he stopped turning, and stumbled from the fireplace. Dragging his trunk out behind him, he was greeted by his whole family, who were all smiling at him. He was home.

"Connor!" Adam said almost immediately as Connor was being hugged by Ginny. "Mum and Dobby made a huge dinner for when you got here, and there's chicken, and pie and treacle tart and everything! Dobby's been baking biscuits and tarts and cakes for days, but Mum wouldn't let any of us eat any until you got here, but now you're here, and we can!"

Connor laughed as Adam set Snowball on a nearby chair and grabbed his arm, tugging him toward the kitchen. "It's nice to see you, too," Connor said wryly. "Mum, you didn't have to starve them."

"Nonsense, they all had an early lunch. They're just exaggerating," Ginny said. "But go ahead and settle down at the table. Your dad or Dobby'll take your trunk up for you."

"Thanks, Mum." Connor said, taking his habitual chair. "This looks great!"

They sat down and began to eat, while Lucy and Ian peppered Connor with questions about school. His parents asked him how his new lessons were getting on, though Connor was pretty sure that they already knew.

"They're going all right," Connor said. "My schedule's a bit full, but I've been managing."

They talked for a long time after the food was gone, then Connor decided that he'd like to have an early night.

It was strange, being back in his own bed in his own quiet room. It was even stranger to skip his Occlumency before trying to settle into sleep. It had become a ritual for him, and now he found it hard to fall asleep without it.

Godric sat alert and wary on his perch by Connor's window, no doubt wondering about this sudden change in his living space.

"Zack will be back in couple of weeks," Connor assured the owl, getting up to put a few treats in his dish. "You'll have to put up with me until them."

Godric stared at Connor almost accusingly, then fluttered out of the charmed window into the freezing night.

Connor lay down again, and tried to relax, but found himself wide awake. Finally admitting that he needed a distraction until he was tired enough to fall asleep without Occluding, he dug through his trunk and got out the book that Professor Snape had asked Madam Pince to give him. He eventually fell asleep at the beginning of Chapter Three - Intuitive Magic, Why Everyone Wants It, But Not Everyone Has It.

By morning, Connor was glad to see the sunrise. He had thought that eliminating his evening Occlumency would be easy without the distraction of so many people around, but he'd been wrong.

Strange dreams had woken him several times, filling his mind with inconsequential facts about people he didn't even know. He finally gave up trying to sleep properly, and went down stairs in search of some breakfast after he practiced his Occlumency for the day.

"Aunt Hermione!" Connor said in surprise when he found her sitting at the kitchen table. "What are you doing here?"

"Good morning, Connor," she said with a cheerful smile. "I have an appointment this morning, but I wanted to drop off some books that I thought you might find interesting."

Connor sat down across from her; Dobby shortly appeared with a bowl of porridge and placed it in front of him.

Connor took a bite. "What kind of books?"

"Well, one of them is a Muggle book called Gray's Anatomy," Hermione answered, pulling a large text from that bag beside her chair and setting it on the table. "It's a book that shows all of the parts of the body and how they work in conjunction with one another. I thought that maybe if you knew how different body parts worked, it could theoretically help you to heal them more efficiently."

"Theoretically?" Connor asked, spooning up more porridge. The book she was suggesting that he read was huge, and he hoped that he wasn't going to be expected to memorise it.

"I thought it made sense that if you knew what all of the parts were and how they worked, your magic wouldn't have to work so hard to do it intuitively," Hermione explained.

"I guess that makes sense," Connor said, somewhat sceptically. "What about the other books?"

"Both of the others are very old wizarding books," she said, digging through her bag again and pulling out two slim volumes that had seen better days. "I've gone through and made notes in them here and there so that you're not learning anything wrong. There are some ideas about certain remedies and treatments that are frankly dangerous, and I didn't want you getting any wrong information, so I blacked out those parts."

Connor took the books that she slid across to him, and examined each. They were so old that the gold leaf that had once spelled out the titles of the books had been worn away.

He opened the first one, and read the title page: A Guide to Practical Home Healing. As he leafed through it, he saw a few woodcuts that showed witches or wizards using poultices or leeches on their patients along with description of how to treat common wizarding illnesses and injuries.

The second book was even slimmer, and the leather cover was cracked but recently mended. Using Common Household Items To Cure What Ails You also featured pictures, and Connor made a face of disgust at a particularly vivid moving woodcut of a wizard vomiting. "Er, Aunt Hermione," Connor said. "Why are you giving these to me? I mean, I understand the anatomy one, but these others?"

"The whole point of the training that you're getting now is to keep you from using your newfound talents until you're in control of them," Hermione said seriously. "It makes sense to learn everything you can about healing in more conventional ways, so that you'll only use your talent as a last resort. You've experienced how much it takes out of you when you use them."

Connor nodded slowly, letting her words sink in. He spooned up more porridge, thinking about everything that he had to learn. It was obvious that his teachers and family who knew about the healing wanted him to learn as much as he could, as quickly as he could. He wondered if he was really up to the task.

The past two weeks had taken a toll on him to which he didn't want to admit. With his regular classes, Quidditch, and his extra lessons, he was feeling stretched thin. He had been looking forward to the Christmas holiday as a time to relax and let his mind rest. Now he had an extra book from Snape and more reading from his aunt.

"I'll try to find the time to read them," Connor said, resigned to spending a good portion of his time off reading.

"Connor," Hermione said, waiting until he looked up at her to continue, "I know it's a lot. I know it seems to all be happening at once. Just do your best; no one can ask you for more than that."

Connor nodded, but his heart didn't feel any lighter.

"And above all," she said, worry obvious in her expression, "be careful."

"I will," he promised.

She got to her feet and picked up her bag. "You should come over sometime this week and visit. Gwen and Prue have been worried about you since they heard you were in St. Mungo's."

She came around the table and kissed the top of his head before ruffling his hair and leaving.

Connor spooned up more porridge while he thought about his aunt Hermione's words, but didn't bring the spoon to his mouth. His appetite had fled. He wasn't sure why everything was suddenly weighing so heavily on him all of the sudden, but there was an undeniable tightness in his chest that he couldn't seem to dispel. He dropped his spoon back in to his bowl with a sigh.

"Hey."

Connor looked up to see his father leaning against the doorway leading to the living room, arms crossed as though he'd been standing there for some time.

"Hey, Dad," Connor said quietly.

"Hermione means well," Harry said. "But that doesn't mean she always knows what's best."

Connor shrugged. "I reckon she's right, though."

"Probably. It is an annoying trait," Harry said with a chuckle. "But you know what I want you to do right now?"

Connor shook his head.

"I want you to take those books and put them in your school trunk, and leave them there until you go back to school. There'll be time enough for them later. After that, I want you to get dressed, get your broom, and meet me back here."

Connor didn't wait to be told twice. The knot in his chest began to loosen at the prospect of time alone with his dad. He jumped to his feet, pausing only long enough to scoop up the books on the table, then ran up the stairs.

He was back in the kitchen within minutes, dressed warmly, cloak on, holding his broom.

"That was fast," Harry said, meeting Connor at the bottom of the stairs. He also had his cloak on and was holding an unmarked broomstick in his right hand. In his left hand, he had a rucksack. "I told your mum that we'd be back after lunch. Let's go."

Connor followed his dad outside before asking where they were going.

"Not too far," Harry answered evasively. "A hundred miles or so. Am I right in thinking you need a bit of speed to help clear your head?"

Connor grinned widely and nodded eagerly.

"Just stick close to me and keep a lookout for Muggles. We'll be flying pretty high, and it should take us about an hour and half at the most to get there, depending on how fast you want to fly." Harry advised, strapping the rucksack to the handle of his broom and mounting his broom. Signal me if you need to land, or have any problems."

Connor agreed, pulled on the goggles his father handed him, and followed suit, kicking off into the air behind his father, excited about the day to come.

An hour later, Connor was still flying beside his father, up above the low clouds. It was freezing! If his father hadn't cast a strong heating charm on their cloaks and gloves, Connor was sure his clothes would be soaked, and he would have had ice crystals in his hair and eyelashes. Connor loved every moment of it.

Occasionally, Harry cast a Sonorus Charm on himself so that Connor would be able to hear him above the rushing of the wind. He pointed out landmarks and villages and warned of any detours they needed to make to avoid being spotted from the ground. Twenty minutes later, Harry signalled that he was going to begin descending, and Connor nodded, following close behind.

They broke out of the low clouds. They were over a secluded area, with no roads visible for at least a mile and ocean stretched out before them. Harry flew down past the green turf and came to a landing on a wide ledge that was about halfway down a steep cliff, overlooking the choppy grey water.

The roaring of the waves crashing below was quiet compared to the rushing of the wind that was suddenly no longer in their ears.

Connor stretched and shook his arms a bit to get the stiffness of the long flight out of them. His father had never taken him on such a long journey before, and Connor was feeling proud and happy not be treated like a little kid.

"Where are we?" he asked.

Harry pulled the rucksack from his broom, took out a large bottle of water, and set the bag on the ground. He dried the droplets of water on their cloaks with a wave of his hand, then took a long drink before passing the bottle to Connor. "This is my spot," he answered. He sat down on the ground, and dangled his legs over the edge, gesturing for Connor to join him. "I don't think it has a name."

Connor sat beside his father and quenched his thirst, waiting silently for him to continue, sensing that there was a story to be told.

"I come here when I want to think about things. When I need the peace and the quiet," Harry said, staring out over the water. It was still relatively early, and the late morning sun reflected off the surface in those areas where it was lucky enough to be able to break through the heavy clouds. "I found it by accident."

Connor wasn't sure if he was supposed to comment or not. His father had always been very open, and always available to talk to his children, but he didn't often offer up stories about himself or his past. Connor was afraid that if he broke the silence, his father would stop talking and change the subject.

"It was shortly after I defeated Voldemort," Harry said.

Connor sat up straighter and looked sharply at his father. This wasn't a subject they talked about at home. They just understood that it was something that Harry and Ginny liked to keep in the past.

"In fact," Harry said with a slightly bitter chuckle, "it was that same day--or night, I should say."

The silence fell again. It wasn't awkward--rather introspective. Connor could tell that his father was remembering the events that had led him to this place all of those years ago.

"I had just been in the biggest battle the wizarding world had ever seen, and I had just killed a man. It didn't seem to matter much that he was pure evil at that moment. I was just...full. I was full of thoughts and feelings and anger and terror and hurt--too many emotions to name. George had been seriously wounded. Fred was unconscious. Mr Weasley was dead. Ron was missing. Ginny was with Dumbledore, levitating him over to the medi-wizards that finally arrived. Hermione was doing her best to help with the wounded. The bodies--"

Connor watched his father as he spoke. He watched his Adam's apple bob up and down as he swallowed past a lump in his throat brought on by so many terrible memories. He waited for his father to continue, but Harry only stared off past the horizon for so long, that Connor was sure he'd been forgotten for the moment.

"I just summoned my broom, and took off," Harry finally said.

Connor stared. His father had left everything in chaos and just...left?

"I think," Harry said ruefully, "I probably went a little bit crazy just then."

Connor didn't know what to say to this. He was torn between being honoured that his father would confide all of this to him, and being terrified by the image of his father being anything less than the jovial, popular, self-effacing man he'd always known his father to be.

"What did you do?" Connor asked softly.

"I just flew away," Harry answered simply. "I had done my job, and my mind was screaming for me to just get out of there. So I did. I flew all the way here from Hogwarts, and only stopped here because I fell off my broom out of sheer exhaustion."

Connor gasped at the image. He looked up at the cliff above them and saw the jagged rocks protruding from the cliff face. The ledge they were on was fairly wide, but it must have been a miracle that had kept his father from plummeting to his death.

"Pretty mind-boggling, isn't it?" Harry asked when Connor sat staring at him. "I broke my arm in the fall. I was pretty beaten up to begin with, and then with my broken arm, and as tired as I was, I just lie there and went to sleep. I was here for two days before your mother found me."

"How did she find you?" Connor asked, intensely curious.

Harry laughed outright, then. A happy sound, that made Connor smile, too, even though he wasn't sure why. "She had put a magical tracking charm on my glasses. Hermione taught her how."

"On your glasses?" Connor repeated.

Harry nodded. "She wanted to put the charm on something that I would always be in contact with. I didn't wear any jewellery, I had more than one pair of shoes, and I was constantly breaking my watches. The glasses were something I really couldn't go anywhere without."

"Clever," Connor said admiringly.

"She found me on this very cliff, and landed her broom," Harry said reminiscently. "Then she helped me to my feet and punched me in the face."

"She what!" Connor asked with an uncontrollable laugh.

"Yep," Harry said with a cheerful grin. "Broke my nose and everything. Merlin, that hurt. Your mum has a mean right hook. It was at that moment that I realized that I loved her."

"Right after she punched you in the face," Connor said disbelievingly.

"Well," Harry amended, "I was pretty sure before then. But there was a war to fight, and I was destined to face Voldemort, and to be honest, I didn't expect to survive. I didn't want to admit to loving anyone, because I didn't want to hurt them even more when I died."

"That's stupid," Connor stated bluntly.

Harry threw back his head and laughed loudly at this statement, and then draped an arm over Connor's shoulders. "Truer words were never spoken. Of course, your mother knew it the whole time. After she punched me, she pulled a Portkey from her pocket and sent us to St Mungo's."

"Wow," Connor said, still inclined to laugh at the fact that his mum had broken his father's nose.

"Yeah," Harry said fondly. "Mind you, it still took me another two weeks to tell her that I was in love with her. Ever since then, this has been my thinking place."

Connor shook his head in amusement. His parents were so sweet on each other it was enough to give casual bystanders cavities. He couldn't imagine a time when it hadn't always been that way. "So why bring me here?"

"I figured you could use the distraction: some time away and some peace and quiet," Harry said, sobering a bit. "I wanted you to understand that I know what it's like to have such huge responsibilities at your age. I haven't forgotten how rotten it feels not to know what's coming and what will be expected of you. I remember what it's like to feel like the weight of the world is on your shoulder. It isn't what I would have chosen for you, but since I can't change it, either, I thought you might like to share my thinking place."

"You're right," Connor said, touched by the offer. It helped to remember that his father had face far worse things when he was Connor's age, and he came out of it well enough.

Harry patted Connor's shoulder, then reached behind him to drag the rucksack over. He unhooked the fastening and produced two thick sandwiches, passing one over to Connor.

They ate in companionable silence, each lost in their own separate thoughts.

"At least," Connor said at length, "at the end of all of this, I won't have to defeat a Dark Lord."

Harry's features darkened for a moment before his gave a small smile and said, "Your future is a lot brighter than that. It'll be hard, not being able to tell anyone, especially not your brothers or sister or cousins, yet. I want you to know that you can always talk to me."

After that, they talked for a while about Connor's new lessons, his friends, and Quidditch. Connor would never say it out loud, but he was ecstatically happy to be able to spend time alone with his father, talking. It was a rare treat not to have the other kids along.

Connor was a little tired, and it was a cold day, though no snow had fallen here yet this year. He couldn't hide a jaw-cracking yawn in the end, and Harry smiled knowingly.

"You know," Harry said as they straddled their brooms, "we don't have to fly all the way home. There are plenty of wizarding places between here and there. We could stop and use the Floo." He looked down at his watch. "In fact, we'd better if we don't want your mum to worry."

Connor looked at his own watch and was surprised to find that it was well past lunchtime. He was slightly relieved that he wouldn't have to fly for another hour and half in the freezing clouds; it looked at though it would rain soon. "Do you know where the closest Floo is?"

The next couple of days were a flurry of activity around the Potter house. In preparation for Christmas Eve, the house was filled with enough baked goods to feed a small army, and people came and went as if there was a revolving door on Potter Headquarters.

A lot of the visitors were there to have last minute adjustments made to custom broomsticks, or to pick up a broomstick order. Most, though, were old family friends who came to wish them a Happy Christmas and to spread good cheer.

The day after Connor flew to the seaside with father, Ivy came to visit, along with her parents, for afternoon tea, and the next day Connor met Quentin in Diagon Alley. Ivy and Rachel weren't able to come, and Zack was probably out on a big boat somewhere by then, so it was just the two of them.

Before Connor knew it, it was Christmas Eve. The family would be going to the Burrow for dinner later in the day, and Connor did his best to keep Adam and the twins out of the way by taking them outside to play. Ginny was in the kitchen with Dobby, continuing to cook far too much food that nevertheless would be completely consumed by family and friends. Harry was busy in his basement workshop, making last minute adjustments to a broom that was having difficulties after having been thoroughly hexed during a particularly violent Quidditch match.

The Burrow was more crowded than usual. It seemed that Connor's grandmother had invited every single person she could think of who might be at a loose end over the holiday, including Ms Grayson from school, Mundungus Fletcher, Kingsley Shacklebolt, and a few people Connor had never seen before.

When they sat down to eat at a long line of tables that groaned under the weight of all the food, Connor and the other kids commandeered one end and sat together while the adults talked amongst themselves. Crackers were pulled, and puddings were devoured by the time everyone left the tables, sated.

Warming charms had been cast to keep the garden outside of the Burrow from getting too cold, and a bonfire was lit at the far end. The children went outdoors to occupy themselves, along with anyone who wanted to come outside to smoke. The older kids were careful to keep an eye on the younger kids around the fire, the mood was cheerful and fun. Inside the party continued with music and drinks.

Connor and Rachel stood by the fire, watching Maggie's two pet salamanders frolic in the flames. Rachel had a length of string in hand, and was busily working to tie it around a piece of greenery.

"What are you doing?" Connor asked her as she knotted the string.

"It's mistletoe!" Rachel said triumphantly, holding the greenery up so that it dangled in the air. "I heard Uncle Fred say that he forgot the self-levitating kind, so I nicked this from the upstairs hallway. We can't use our magic to levitate it over anyone, so this is the next best thing."

"Who are you going to hang it over?" Connor asked.

"Professor Lupin and Ms Grayson, of course!" Rachel answered as if it were obvious. "I'm going to get a long stick and use it like a fishing rod."

"Are you sure they even want to get caught under mistletoe?" Connor asked doubtfully.

"You saw the way they were dancing in the common room!" Rachel said. "It'll be perfect!"

Connor wasn't so sure about that, but was willing enough to follow Rachel and peer through the window to see if they could spot her quarry. Professor Lupin was actually standing quite close to the window, so they had no trouble finding him. It took a minute longer to see Ms Grayson in the middle of the expanded living room, dancing with Uncle Bill.

The movement outside of the window must have given them away, because Lupin turned and looked out at them with an indulgent smile on his face. He set down his drink, and moved toward the door.

"Hide the stick," Rachel hissed. "He can't see it until they're both together."

Connor rolled his eyes, stepped over to the edge of the porch, and dropped it unceremoniously onto the ground.

"What are you two up to?" Lupin asked as he stepped outside.

"Nothing," Connor and Rachel said together.

"Just looking in to see what everyone else was doing inside," Rachel said.

"You are allowed to come inside, you know," Lupin said, sitting down on the porch swing.

"We know," Rachel said. "It's just kind of boring in there."

Lupin chuckled at this and asked, "And what are all of the kids doing to fight off the boredom?"

"Oh, you know," Connor said with a shrug, "just kid stuff."

There was a shriek of laughter from the yard as Maggie passed her youngest sister, six-year-old Ella, a lit sparkler and watched as she ran in circles gleefully. Connor smiled at the image, and turned back to see the Lupin was watching, too.

"Ms Grayson seems to be having a good time," Rachel observed casually.

"She is," Lupin replied with a nod. "It was kind of Molly to invite her."

"Doesn't she have any family?" Connor asked, trying to remember if it had ever been mentioned in class.

"Not any around here," Lupin answered. "She has a grandfather in South America that she's particularly close to, but her parents passed away some years ago, as did a younger brother."

"That's too bad," Rachel said, looking sad.

"Yes, but she's enjoying herself tonight, thanks to Molly," Lupin said kindly. "And now, I think I'll go back indoors and join the others."

Rachel and Connor waited until Lupin went back inside, and then Rachel jumped down to retrieve her mistletoe stick. They moved around to the side of the house, to the kitchen's side entrance, and snuck in. There were a couple of people standing about who greeted them and talked to them a bit, but no one did more than raise a curious eyebrow at the long stick that Rachel carried.

They waited near the doorway of the dining area, which lead into the living room. It didn't take long before Lupin and Ms Grayson were standing next to each other, and Rachel crept over and dangled the mistletoe over them.

There was a chorus of laughter and cheers from the assembly, and Lupin and Ms Grayson both looked up, and simultaneously blushed.

"You have to kiss, now!" Charlie called from the other side of the room, and was met with enthusiastic agreement from many others.

Ms Grayson was blushing furiously, and Connor felt sort of bad for her, but smiled when Lupin bent his head to kiss her on the cheek. There were some groans of disappointment, but Fred soon appeared beside Rachel, and relieved her of the stick.

Molly came to shoo Connor and Rachel back outside so that they couldn't cause anymore "trouble". Connor's last sight of the living room was of Fred holding the mistletoe over another couple.

After a while, it was time for the traditional fireworks show, and all of guests came out to the garden to watch. Sleepy younger children fell asleep in the arms of whoever was holding them as the colourful lights burst in the sky.

Connor looked around at his large family and all of their friends and felt content. It took a moment to realize that he didn't see Uncle Remus, and that Ms Grayson was also missing.

He got up from his place on the ground between Aiden and Prue, and went to the side of the house, thinking to use the kitchen entrance since there were so many people on the porch, blocking the front door. He came to a halt, though, when he saw Lupin and Ms Grayson standing outside the door, in the light from the kitchen window.

Lupin had the sprig of mistletoe in one hand and was holding it over Ms Grayson's head. Her arms were around him, and his free arm was around her, and they were kissing, really kissing, like he sometimes saw his parents do. They didn't notice Connor standing there, so he quickly retreated, feeling his cheeks heat.

Connor went back to the fireworks show and didn't mention what he had seen to anyone.

Connor woke early on Christmas morning. There was a slight buzzing in his head that told him that it was time to do his Occlumency. Being around a large crowd last night must have taken its toll, but he had been tired enough when he got home that he had fallen asleep with no problem at all.

Now he listened to the quiet house and knew that he probably didn't have long before the twins and Adam were awake. He closed his eyes and settled into his routine of clearing his mind. He had a nagging feeling at the edges of his mind that there was a particularly strong thought trying to break through his barriers, but he redoubled his efforts and denied it access. By the time he was finished, Connor's mind was settled once more and he felt refreshed.

There was still no sign of the others being awake, and Connor figured that the party the night before had really tired everyone out. He dressed in jeans and a tee shirt, knowing that he would be receiving his traditional jumper soon and didn't need to dress any warmer. He left his bedroom, intending to wake Ian, and walked lightly down the stairs.

The sound that came from the landing below made his heart jump. It was cross between a strangled yelp and a screech. The noise continued; it wasn't overly loud, but Connor had been listening for signs of anyone else being up, so the noise seemed louder than it actually was. Connor looked down the steps and saw a long, black strip of something that appeared to be strung from where he was standing down to the landing. It took him a second to realise that it was Snowball's tongue, and that he was standing on it!

"Damn!" Connor hissed. He quickly jumped up to a higher step, and watched as the tongue retracted down into the dim light. He raced after it and saw Snowball in a dark corner, emitting pitiful whining sounds.

When Connor approached the over-sized puffskein, it made a growling noise that had Connor backing away.

"I didn't mean it," Connor told the giant fur ball quietly. "I didn't see it there."

Snowball went back to whining.

"Here," Connor said with resignation, "let me see what I can do for you."

Connor slowly approached Snowball, and refused to back up when it began to growl. It occurred to Connor that his hands weren't even slightly itchy. He wondered if this was because he had just finished with his Occlumency, or if it was because Snowball wasn't really injured. Maybe his healing power didn't work on animals?

"Hush," Connor admonished as Snowball's growls became slightly more vocal. "I'm trying to help you." He picked up the puffskein gingerly, not sure which way was the front, and which way was the back. It wriggled in his grasp, but Connor held firm.

It occurred to Connor then, that he didn't know how to activate his healing power, even if he wanted to. Nothing seemed to happen as he held the growling bundle of angry fur, and so he continued down the steps to his parents' room.

He knocked lightly on the closed door, and was rewarded with a tired sounding, "Come in."

His mum was already out of bed, wrapped in a dressing gown and brushing her hair. His dad was also in a dressing gown, but was sitting up on the bed, reading.

"Are you kids ready to go down an open presents?" Harry asked. "Where are the others?"

"Not awake yet," Connor answered, holding Snowball out in front of him. It had stopped wriggling, but was still growling menacingly. "I accidentally stepped on his tongue."

"Oh dear," Ginny said with a strangled laugh. "Poor thing! Is he bleeding?"

"How would I know?" Connor asked, gladly passing the animal over into his mother's care. "I can't even tell where its mouth is."

"Let's see what we've got here," Ginny crooned to Snowball as she set him on her dressing table and lit a lamp.

Snowball stopped making noise as soon as Connor let go of him. Connor scowled.

"What's that thing doing wandering around the house at night for, anyway? Doesn't Adam have a cage for it?" Connor asked crossly.

"He's too big for his cage, and he's never been a problem, so we haven't insisted on one," Ginny said, examining it.

"You didn't try to heal him, did you?" Harry asked suddenly, eyeing Connor.

"No," Connor said, sitting down by his dad's feet. "I wouldn't even know how."

"You don't feel compelled to help him?" Harry asked.

"Well, I feel a bit guilty for stepping on his tongue," Connor admitted. "My hands didn't itch or anything, though. I'm thinking it doesn't work on animals."

"It's something to check into," Harry said, "some other time."

At that moment, Adam, Ian and Lucy all came tumbling into the room, laughing and climbing onto the bed.

"Snowball!" Adam cried when he saw his pet in his mother's arms. "How did you get in here?"

"I accidentally stepped on his tongue," Connor admitted, trying to sound contrite. "I brought him in here to Mum to have her look him over."

"Is he hurt?" Adam asked worriedly, taking his pet. Snowball immediately began to warble. "He seems okay."

"We'll just keep an eye on him," Ginny said decisively. "If he continues to eat regularly and acts normal, we'll assume he's okay.

"Now," Harry said, standing up, "do we want breakfast first, or presents?"

The kids all shouted, "Presents!" at the same time, and scrambled from the room.