Killers in Hogsmeade Work Seven Days a Week

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"Heads up!"

"Move it!"

"Oh shit."

"I think we killed him. Wait, no, you killed him."

"Oh shit."

"This is not good."

"Oh shit."

"Damn it Fred! Can't you say anything else?"

"Oh -"

Fred trailed off as his twin hit him upside the head with his broomstick. It wasn't hard really, just lightly enough to shock the other redheaded Weasley twin into shutting up for a second so that George could think of what to do with the body lying on the middle of the Quidditch pitch. Someone had wandered onto the pitch in the middle of the day while the two Gryffindor beaters were busy pelting targets as per Wood's orders. George of course had fired back a few chose adjectives under his breath, 'stupid bloody Nazi' being the kindest one uttered. I mean who makes their already perfect Beaters start practicing on only the second day of the term, but they had gone anyway and were just about to call it quits when one of Fred's Bludgers went careening after the boy standing on the grassy field below. Who was he? The boy had on a Gryffindor tie and seemed to be their age but they had never seen him up in the tower.

"Oh! He's waking up."

"Hey, hey you. Are. You. Ok?"

"He's injured, not deaf, George."

George glared half-heartedly at his brother. Innocent bystander type temporarily forgotten.

"What? It's true."

The kid on the ground moaned drawing their attention back to him. Even hurt his uncle was right, he just had to be the center of attention. The troublesome two forgot about their little squabble for a minute and carried the boy up to the infirmary getting many odd looks on the way there. People seemed to think that the twins had finally pranked someone into a coma, which would have been slightly amusing if the kid hadn't been so freakin' lanky and well, quite frankly built. Not that Fred or George went around noticing other guys bodies. Nope, no sir, not those two.

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Hands reached up and grabbed at his shaggy dark blond hair. So far so good, his head was still intact at least, that was always good to know. Now for the mental checklist.

Date?

September 2.

Year?

1999.

Age?

14.

Where was he?

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

Name?

Connor Liam Lupin-Black.

Yup, no memory loss. He even remembered to tell everyone his full name, from now on he was just plain old Connor Lupin nephew of the new DADA teacher Remus Lupin. Made things just a little easier not having people know that his dad was actually a crazy murderer. 'Cause that would be a big ol' barrel of not fun.

"Better to be the nephew of a werewolf than the son of a murderer, I guess." Connor muttered as he rubbed his eyes. Some how he had ended up in bed, only it wasn't the huge comfy bed that he'd slept in last night in Gryffindor tower, this bed was hard and somewhat lumpy. Slowly he opened his eyes and looked around. Groaning he remembered exactly what it was that had landed him in the lumpy bed. Two red haired boys. Weasleys. He'd wandered in on their practice time and ended up with a not on his head the size of Texas and a headache to go with it. What a great way to start his fourth year, finally get to Hogwarts and end up in the clinic on the second day. Brilliant.