Foreshadowing the Unexpected

Chapter 21 - Breaking Point

Challenges are what make life interesting; overcoming them is what makes life meaningful. - Joshua J. Marine

Connor used the next few days to work on the assignment that Professor Snape had given him. He had used the outline he had written in right after their brewing session, and filled in the details, one step at a time, according to his memory. He knew that he was doing a shoddy job on his homework for his other classes, but the lure of being allowed to try such a complicated potion under the guidance of a Potions Master was irresistible.

He handed his three rolls of parchment to Professor Snape on Friday after breakfast, just outside the Great Hall.

"Here is the assignment you asked for, Professor," Connor said as calmly as he could with the tightness in his throat caused by nerves.

Professor Snape had taken the rolls from Connor without looking at them. He looked Connor in the eye for a moment before he nodded sharply and turned away, walking in the direction of the dungeons without a word.

Connor let out an unsteady breath. All he could do now was wait to find out if he'd gotten it right.

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"Connor, you look tired," Madam Cosgrove said a few days later as he sat in front of her desk for their first lesson since the holiday.

Snape had ordered Connor to come for extra lessons for two additional nights that week, and had tested him on the preparation and use of native plants in healing. It had eaten into his schedule, but Connor didn't complain at all, to anyone.

"I was up late finishing some homework," Connor told her. "My schedule's been a bit full with the Gryffindor/Slytherin match coming up."

"Yes, I've heard from Professor Lyra about that, which is why I asked to meet with you on a Sunday morning, instead of during the week," Madam Cosgrove said shrewdly.

"I appreciate it," Connor said sincerely. Even if it did mean that his friends were working on finding books to duplicate the Marauders' Map without him.

"Yes, well, let's go through our usual routine, then," she said.

She proceeded to question Connor on all of the things he had read, plus a few of the things that had been in the book that Professor Snape had wanted him to read from the restricted section of the library.

While they talked, Connor told her about the books that his aunt had given him, and she approved of them.

"Her reasoning behind knowing anatomy is sound. Your magic will likely have to work less hard to perform healings if your mind is aware of exactly what the function of each body part is, and how it works in conjunction with the others," Madam Cosgrove said. "I would suggest you devote some time into learning it."

Connor thought of how thick Gray's Anatomy was, and how many long, alien-sounding words it contained, and mentally groaned. Still, he knew that he was expected to learn everything he could to prevent accidental healings as had happened with Ivy and McGonagall, and most recently, Adam.

"Yes ma'am," he answered, with only the hint of a resigned sigh in his voice.

"In fact," Madam Cosgrove said thoughtfully, tapping a finger against her chin. "I'd like you to study your anatomy book for anything it can tell you about the dermal layers of the human hand. We'll turn it into a bit of an experiment. Once I'm convinced that you're thoroughly familiar with it, I'll have you heal one small cut with your wand, and another with your powers, to see which is more effective. I'll write to your parents for permission first, of course."

Connor brightened a bit at this: this was concrete evidence that he was making progress, and gave him some much-needed incentive to study anatomy, on top of everything else. He was managing to find time for everything else, after all--why not one more thing?

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"Everything all right in there?" Zack asked, tapping Connor on the top of the head before sitting down beside his friend.

"Yeah," Connor said, rubbing his tired eyes, and looking around the library. "Right as rain."

"How are you managing to get everything done?" Zack asked him quietly. "I've been watching you since before Christmas, and your schedule's packed. I'm not even playing Quidditch, and I'm having a hard time getting everything done--I don't know how you're managing it."

"Oh, easy," Connor said airily. "Just a complete lack of sleep of any kind."

"Sure looks like it," Zack said with concern. "You've got dark rings around your eyes, and you're always yawning in class. Do yourself a favour and take a day off to get some rest."

"Maybe after the game this Saturday," Connor said wearily, thinking it sounded like very good advice, really. He'd love to spend a whole day just sleeping and getting caught up. "How's the research coming?"

"What research?" Zack asked, sounding momentarily confused.

"To duplicate the Map," Connor said. "Maybe you're doing too much!"

"We're still working with the spell to help us find the books we need," Zack said, rolling his eyes at Connor's attempt at humorur. "Rachel and Quentin aren't too keen to be buried under a pile of books again any time soon. Ivy's been studying up on tracking spells, but hasn't found anything so far that would encompass everyone in the school. It's got us stumped, how it recognises everyone as soon as they come within the boundaries of the map."

"That's a tough one, and I don't think that Lupin would tell us if we asked," Connor said. "I still haven't had time to look up about potions the original Marauders might have used. Maybe this summer, I'll get a chance for a proper look. Aunt Hermione has a huge library full of Potions texts I bet she'd let me look through."

"What are you working on, now?" Zack asked, as Rachel and Ivy appeared and sat down with them.

"I'm trying to get caught up with Transfiguration again," Connor said with a sigh. "I did the wrong chapter summary last time, so I have to go back and do the correct one before out next class."

They groaned in sympathy. Connor knew that if his schedule wasn't so crazy, the mistake would never have happened, and he wouldn't have been rushing to get his homework done at half eleven at night.

"On the bright side, I've got the chapter summary for next week finished," Connor said, trying to sound cheerful. He didn't want his friends to worry too much, or they would start asking him about all of his extra assignments. He couldn't very well explain the books about anatomy and healing if they got curious, could he?

"You should just get Quint to help you," Ivy said. "He can at least tell you what the chapter is about so you can write it down."

"But if Connor doesn't do his own work, what's going to happen when he actually needs to know this stuff?" Rachel said.

Connor smiled, in spite of himself. Rachel sounded so much like her mother for a moment; it was hard to believe she was half Weasley.

"What's so funny?" Quentin asked, emerging from the stacks with three thick books in his arms. He dropped the books on the table and then took a seat between Rachel and Ivy.

"Nothing," Connor said. "Rachel just doesn't want me to get my homework done."

"I didn't say that!" Rachel said indignantly. "I said you should do your own homework."

"Hey, Quint," Zack interrupted, "Connor needs help with the last Transfiguration assignment. He did the wrong one for class, and has to have it done by Tuesday, on top of everything else he's got going on."

"No problem," Quentin said. "He didn't hand back our papers, yet, but I think I probably got a good grade."

Connor rolled his eyes and pulled out a piece of parchment, and loaded his quill. Since when did Quentin not get good grades in Transfiguration? He was easily the best of the third year Gryffindors at it.

Rachel sniffed in disapproval, but was summarily ignored while Quentin dictated what Connor should write. It only took them fifteen minutes to finish the assignment, and Connor heaved a sigh of relief as he waved his wand over the ink to make it dry.

"Thanks, mate," Connor said as he put away his Transfiguration book and pulled out his Potions.

Professor Snape would still expect Connor to have his regular homework done tomorrow, regardless of the three rolls of extra work he had just handed in.

"How is your Advanced Potions class coming along?" Ivy asked when she saw the book he was taking out.

"It's brilliant," Connor said enthusiastically. "It's a challenge, but I'm learning loads of new stuff."

"You can have it," Zack said, making a disgusted face. "There's no way I'd agree to more time with Snape."

Connor just grinned. He could put up with Snape any day for the information and skill his was getting in return.

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

By the time the end of the week came around, Connor was surprised that his head hadn't just exploded. On top of all of his class work, Whitney was holding brutal Quidditch practices every night that were more vicious than most real matches ever were. If they didn't beat Slytherin after this, then they didn't deserve to.

Randall was a little green by the end of practice on Friday night, and Connor could tell that the other boy's nerves were already beginning to gnaw at him.

"Don't worry, Randall," Connor said, slapping him on the back companionably. "You'll play great. You'll get up in the morning, you'll get dressed, you'll sick your guts up if you need to, and you'll be fine."

"Thanks," Randall said. He sounded less than reassured.

Connor simply laughed, trying to hide his own depression about not being allowed to play in the game.

"Doesn't feel good, does it? Not being allowed to play?" came an acid voice from behind Connor as he walked through the entrance hall toward the stairs.

Connor spun around to find out who would be cruel enough to rub salt in his wounds. He should have known. "Vanessa." His voice remained calm and cool by sheer force of will as he faced Quentin's little sister. "What do you want?"

"Nothing at all," Vanessa said with mock sweetness. "I already got what I wanted--for you to know how I felt last year."

"You did that to yourself, Vanessa," Connor said mildly, as if bored.

Connor turned to leave, and almost ran headlong into Mr Sweeper again. It was creepy how he kept turning up silently, never really saying anything after that first meeting. The caretaker simply smiled blandly at Connor and stepped aside.

"Sorry," Connor grunted, moving off. He didn't look back at either Vanessa or the caretaker, feeling unnerved by both parties for different reasons.

When he got back to the common room, Connor crawled through the portrait hole to the sound of giggling. It became immediately clear why.

Cliodna was in the common room, perched on the arm of a chair. Beside her, sat Ivy's kneazle, Circe, and the two animals were regarding each other. Connor smirked at the sight, and chuckled when Circle mewed at the owl, and Clio hooted back, almost as if they were having a conversation.

"They've been doing that for five minutes, now," Rachel said when she spotted Connor and joined him near the portrait hole. "It's like they can understand each other."

"Maybe they can," Ivy said as she joined them. "Circe's a very smart kneazle."

"Smart enough to sleep with the one who gives her treats," Connor teased.

It was still a point of contention between Ivy and Quentin that her kneazle preferred Quentin's bed to Ivy's, because Quentin spoiled Circe with bits of chicken that he saved from dinner.

"Connor," Rachel said with a laugh, "don't start that up again!"

As soon as Rachel said Connor's name, Clio looked over at the three teens and immediately flew to Connor's shoulder.

"Hello, Clio," he crooned. "Sorry I don't have any treats for you. Looks like I'll have to start carrying some."

Clio hooted at him affectionately and began to use her beak to rearrange his hair. Everyone else in the room laughed at her behaviour. Connor felt his face heat. He spotted Victoria over by the fire, and walked over to her with Clio still nibbling on him.

"Tori," Connor said in a pleading voice. "Could I talk you into giving me a hair cut? It's pretty bad when my own owl is dropping hints about it."

Victoria agreed, and sat him down in a chair at the nearest table before running to get her scissors. When she returned with shears, a comb, plus a towel for Connor's shoulders, Connor handed Clio off to Rachel.

"How short do you want it?" Victoria asked, running her fingers through the unruly mop of hair.

"Do you remember how it looked at the beginning of the year?" he asked. "Short all over?"

"I remember," Victoria said, "Just sit back and relax."

However, Victoria had only cut away one of Connor's locks when a loud screech startled everyone in the room, causing gasps all around.

"Clio, hush!" Connor admonished, when he realised what the noise had been.

Rachel was having a hard time holding onto the owl. Clio was flapping her wings and struggling to get free. She nipped sharply at Rachel's hand, and Rachel reflexively released the bird and stuck her injured had in her mouth.

"That barmy owl bit me!" Rachel complained in disbelief.

"Let me see!" Whitney jumped up from where she'd been sitting at a chessboard, and rushed over. "It's not bad enough to keep you from playing tomorrow, is it?"

"No," Rachel said, allowing Whitney to examine her hand. "The skin's not even broken."

"What's gotten into you?" Connor asked Clio crossly.

"I don't think she wants you to get a haircut," Victoria said.

"Well, it's not up to her," Connor said firmly, taking Clio from his shoulder and letting her perch on his right hand, while he held the sharp talons on one of her feet with his thumb. "You stay put," he told the owl sternly. "It's just a haircut. I've needed one for ages."

Clio looked at Connor in a way that could only be interpreted as sadness. Several younger girls nearby sighed at her with sympathy.

Victoria eyed Clio warily, but combed another section of Connor's hair into her fingers and snipped it off with the scissors.

Clio hooted balefully and clicked her beak at Victoria.

"Cheeky thing," Victoria muttered.

At least Clio was no longer thrashing about.

Victoria continued with the haircut, trying to ignore Clio's noisy protests and angry eyes. Finally, Connor asked Victoria to pause in her cutting and walked to the window. He forced it open and set Clio on the ledge. "Go to the Owlery, girl," he told her firmly.

She glared at him for a moment, and then took flight into the night.

With a sigh of relief, Connor shut the window and sat back down so that Victoria could finish cutting his hair.

"Looks like I was right," Andrew Tillman said, sitting in a chair across from Connor. "Your nutty bird's in love with you, all right."

"At least with my hair." Connor chuckled. "Let's hope she's not too mad at me tomorrow."

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

Connor woke up early on game day feeling gloomy. This would be the first Gryffindor game that he would not be playing in since he had made the team. Despite how he had acted the previous night, Vanessa's words had struck a chord, and Connor suddenly wasn't looking as forward to the game as he had been before.

When he looked at the clock, he saw that it was only six in the morning. Too early, but he knew that he'd never get back to sleep. Clio was nowhere in evidence, and so after a quick shower, Connor decided to go to the Owlery with the letters he had written to his family.

Connor knew that everyone had written to tell him that Adam was fine-- that he was even back to attending school, but he still felt worried about his baby brother.

"Clio!" Connor called up into the rafters. He could see the plumes of steam that his breath made in the chilly air.

He could see her up at the top of the Owlery, looking down at him. As soon as they made eye contact, however, she turned her back on him.

"Clio," Connor called again, trying to sound repentant. "Come on down, girl! It's not so bad. I have a letter for home for you to take."

She pretended not to hear him.

"All right, then," Connor said, faking non-concern. "I suppose I'll have to use a school owl, if you think you're not up to it."

Connor pulled his letter from his pocket, sure that Clio would relent and come down, insulted by the suggestion that she might not be up to a flight to Warwickshire. She still didn't budge.

Connor called out for a school owl, and held out an arm for it to perch on, and a pretty brown barn owl began to descend, when Clio suddenly took flight and chased it away. Connor smiled, thinking that he'd won, but once the barn owl retreated, Clio went back to her perch. He wasn't sure whether to laugh or not.

"Clio!" he scolded. "I have a letter to send, and if you're not going to do it, I'm going to use another owl. Now, either come down here, or let the other one down."

Clio stared at him for a few moments, and just when Connor was about to call down the Hogwarts owl once more, Clio fluttered down from her perch and landed on his shoulder. She nipped a little harder than necessary at his ear, and made a mournful hooting sound at his short hair.

"Come on, now," Connor said soothingly, taking her down and setting her on a nearby perch. He talked to her gently while he tied the bundle of letters to her legs.

"Hedwig will be happy to see you, and you can go nuts with Dad's hair. He never cuts it short. Besides, my hair grows really fast, so you should be back to, er, fixing it for me soon."

When it was time for her to go, Clio nibbled lightly at his fingertips in a forgiving gesture, then flew off into the oncoming dawn.

Connor watched her go, then headed back to his room to change into this uniform. It felt strange to put it on, knowing that he wouldn't be playing.

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

Connor arrived at the Gryffindor table in the Great Hall to find a green-faced Randall staring into a huge bowl of porridge. Whitney was talking animatedly to him and Ivy, who were the only two other players at the table so far.

Connor smirked when he heard Whitney going over the plays that Randall knew by heart by now, and sat down across from her. "Whitney, give it a break," Connor said lightly. "You're going to make him sick. He'll do just fine."

Randall shot Connor a grateful look when Connor interrupted, and an even more relieved look when Connor pulled the porridge bowl away.

"You don't look like you're up to breakfast this morning," Connor said kindly.

"He needs to keep his strength up," Whitney protested.

"Which is why I'm taking away something that'll only make him sick," Connor argued. "He's nervous. You don't want him hanging off his broom, getting sick in the air, do you?"

Whiney simply shrugged and continued eating her breakfast.

Within twenty minutes, the entire team was gathered at one end of the table, and Connor could see that the Slytherin team was similarly situated.

The mood in the Great Hall was boisterous, and there was much more noise than usual. It wasn't until Whitney stood and motioned for the team to follow her down to the pitch that Professor Lyra caught up with Connor and asked him to stay behind for a moment.

"I wanted to give this to you before you went down to the pitch," she said. She was holding Connor's Animus Orb out to him. "I want you to keep a careful eye on it. If it starts to cloud up, or show signs that your mental defences are coming down, I want you to get out of there and come back up to the castle."

Connor took the orb, and watched as it went from smoky grey to a blank state, then gradually turned a crystalline sky blue. "I will," he said, slipping it into his pocket.

"Don't wait around to see if things get better if you start to see it change. I don't care what excuse you use, but get out of there." Lyra admonished sternly.

"I promise," Connor said. "I'll be careful."

She looked him in the eye, then nodded, as though satisfied by what she saw there.

Connor ran to catch up with the team, and went to sit through a last minute strategy meeting and pep talk.

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

Two hours later, the game was in full swing. Connor watched from the sidelines with the rest of the reserve team as Gryffindor used its best moves. Slytherin was playing dirty and doing its best to unseat Gryffindors, but Quentin seemed to be as slippery as an eel on his 'enhanced' broom. He seemed absolutely fearless as he literally flew circles around the opposing players.

Connor was pleased to see that the extra training he'd managed to squeeze into his schedule seemed to have helped Randall. He was playing smoothly with the other Chasers and rarely missed a hand signal, indicating changes in play.

Happily, Connor found that the crowd was only a mild annoyance, and not nearly as distracting as it had been during the last game, when he had been playing. The Animus Orb was slowing beginning to show some clouds forming, but nothing Connor would consider dangerous. He put the Orb into his pocket and continued to cheer on his teammates.

It was an exciting match. Connor found himself on his feet for the majority of the time, shouting and cheering with everyone else. When the Snitch came out, Connor spotted it almost immediately, as it was hovering barely twenty feet in front of him and was holding a steady position. Whitney and the Slytherin Seeker both seemed to spot it at the same time. The sound in the stands came to an almost screeching halt for a single heartbeat, and then Connor would have sworn that it increased by a hundredfold as the two Seekers went into a steep dive. He held his breath as Whitney's broom seemed to drag a bit in midair, and the Slytherin Seeker gained the lead in the race tot e Snitch.

The next moment happened so quickly that Connor would have missed it if he had blinked. The Snitch, hovering uncharacteristically in place not far in front of Connor, suddenly darted to the side at the Slytherin Seeker made a grab for it. Then, as if Whitney had suddenly learned wandless magic and has summoned it, the Snitch flew right into her hand. Connor had never seen anything like it.

The crowed roared in either approval or disappointment, and many began to surge onto the pitch. Connor was about to jump the rail to join in congratulating his teammates when a Bludger abruptly swooped and hit the Slytherin Seeker squarely in the back, knocking him from his broom. There was stunned look on his face as the Bludger hit him, and then suddenly he was tumbling to the ground amidst confused players and fans.

Connor was more than halfway to the injured player before he even realised that he had vaulted over the rail and landed on the pitch. His hands were beginning to itch and heat, and the only thought in his head was to get to the injured boy. Now.

He was pushing through a group of people who didn't seem to realise what had happened when he felt an arm wrap around him from behind, and lift him bodily off of his feet. He struggled against it, not caring that the familiar voice of Professor Lupin was speaking into his ear.

"No, Connor," Lupin said firmly. "Let Madam Cosgrove handle it. She's already on her way."

Connor continued to struggle. It seemed like the most important thing in the world to reach the injured boy, and it was impossible for him to focus on anything else. He felt almost panicked when he felt himself alternately carried, pulled, and dragged backward through the crowd and out of the Quidditch stadium.

"Remus, don't hurt him!"

Connor recognised Ms Grayson's voice a moment before he saw her. She looked fearful as she stepped up behind them, blocking anyone's view from the pitch as Connor was dragged, struggling, away from the crowd.

"This is crazy," Ms Grayson said at last. "Petrificus Totalus!"

Connor felt his arms and legs snap together as his spine straightened, effectively turning him into a stiff statue, supported by Professor Lupin. The panic inside of him was dying down, the further away he got from the other students, and now he felt horrified at losing so much control that a teacher had needed to restrain him with a Full Body Bind.

"Connor," Ms Grayson said, looking fretful, "I'm sorry, but I needed to stop you. I'm going to Disillusion you now, so that we can get you back up to the castle without you hurting yourself. I'll free you once we get you away from here, all right?"

Of course, Connor couldn't answer her, and didn't know what she meant by 'Disillusion', but he accepted that Lupin and Ms Grayson were only doing what they felt they had to do. Aside from the horror of needing to be physically held in check, Connor recognised that he had very nearly put on a show for the whole school, a display that would have made last year's fiasco with the girl falling from the Astronomy Tower, and his precognition being broadcast to everyone, seem like pleasant little diversion.

The tip of a wand rapped him sharply on the head, then a feeling of coldness rushing over his body.

"Mobilicorpus!" Lupin said from near his head.

Connor rose up into the air, with nothing but magic supporting him, and completely unable to move. It was a very uncomfortable feeling. Lupin and Ms Grayson walked along quickly beside him, and stopped once they reached the front steps of the school.

"There's no one around," Ms Grayson said. She rapped him on the head again with her wand, and this time, a feeling of warmth washed over Connor. He wasn't sure what had just happened, but he was relieved when she also muttered, "Finite." The spells holding him stiff as a board in the air were ended, and Lupin grabbed him by the shoulders to keep him from hitting the ground when they were nullified.

"How are you feeling?" Lupin asked, standing in front of Connor as if he were ready to chase him down and tackle him if need be.

"Better," Connor answered. "I don't know what came over me."

"I think you do," Lupin said grimly.

Connor nodded, and looked down at his shoes, not sure what to expect next.

"I'm sorry, Connor," Lupin said finally. "You're off the team. For real, this time."

Whatever Connor had been expecting, it hadn't been that. His head shot up and his eyes snapped to Lupin's. "You can't be serious!"

"Connor," Lupin said in a tone that brooked no argument, "I am serious. Nothing you can say is going to change my mind. You almost did something very foolish just now, and you were completely out of control. In fact, there won't be any more Quidditch games for you, period. I'm banning you from attending all future games until I have solid proof that you can control your reactions to being around that many people without losing control again."

"But--" Connor said, prepared to argue fiercely.

"No, Connor," Lupin interrupted resolutely. "That's my final word. I'll tell Whitney tonight, and I'll send word to your parents. I'm sorry, but it's for your own safety."

A lump formed in Connor's throat; his eyes were beginning to burn. He shot one furious glare at Lupin and then ran past him, into the school. He ran all the way up to Gryffindor Tower and didn't stop until he got to his room.

Once in his dorm, Connor shed his uniform and left it in a heap on the floor. He pulled on his favourite, softest, robes and then climbed onto his bed, drawing the curtains for privacy. He lay back against the pillows, and let the angry tears come, not making a move when he heard the beginnings of a party starting in the common room downstairs. He wasn't in the mood to celebrate, anyway.

At different times over the next couple of hours, Connor's friends tried to get him to come down to the party, or to tell them what was wrong. Connor simply said he didn't want to talk about it right now, and they finally left him alone.

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

Connor didn't go down to the Great Hall for lunch. His appetite seemed to have fled. He didn't make an appearance at dinner, either, but snuck down to the kitchens for a bite to eat from the elves before sneaking back to his common room.

"Connor." Whitney was waiting for him when he returned from the kitchens.

He swore under his breath. He had been hoping to return to the privacy of his curtained bed before anyone else returned from dinner.

"Look," Whitney said quietly. "Lupin came to see me and told me about your grades slipping and all. I'm sorry that it got you kicked off the team. I kind of feel like it's my fault, what with scheduling so may practices and nagging at you about skipping your extra lessons and stuff."

Connor was confused for a moment before he figured out that Lupin must have used his slipping grades as an excuse to remove him from the team.

"It's not your fault," Connor sighed. "I just have a lot going on right now, and something had to give. I was concentrating so much on Quidditch and my extra lessons, that I let myself fall way behind in my regular classes."

This was not necessarily a lie. He had been doing shoddy work on many of his homework assignments in an effort to keep up, and his professors were starting to take notice, judging from many of the comments on his homework, lately.

"I'm still sorry," Whitney said. "I wish I hadn't pushed you so hard."

Connor shrugged. What could he say? "Without the Quidditch, I should have an easier time," he said, though he wasn't sure he believed it.

Connor went up to his room, hid behind his curtains again and wrote a long letter home before falling into an unhappy sleep.