Title: Future Uncertain
Author: Martine Lewis
Genre: Drama, Romance, Angst
Warnings: well, at this point, I don't have a whole lot… Actually, I am making this story M just to be on the safe side. I think it could be lower than that, really.
Setting: Post DH
Summary: Muggle born Connor McKeithan joins Hogwarts two years after the war. This is the story of his seven years at Hogwarts. Harry and gang are part of this story even if it is from Connor's point of view.
Disclaimer and copyright recognition: Potterverse and all of Potterverse original characters and settings are the sole property of JKR. Thank you JKR for giving us such a wonderful world to write in!
With that being said, Connor Avery McKeithan and all of his friends are my characters, so are all the locations created for them (aka Connor's house and tower). If you want to use them, please recognize my ownership of them. If you are tempted to actually use my work elsewhere (on the internet or in printed media now that a lot of fanfiction find themselves modified and published!) and claim it as your own, be ready for a fight. Do know my stories are written by hand and I have undeniable proof this work is all mine. Oh, and 'all right reserved' on my original content!
A/N: Thank you Arpad for your undying support and your beta services. I don't think I could do half of what I do without you.
To all of my readers, as you read Connor's first year, you may have the impression you read something similar somewhere. The truth of the matter is a lot of scenes are from my story Harry Potter and the Ring of Power but from Connor's point of view. So of course the dialogues are the same! So yes, I shamelessly copied from my own work!
Finally, I'll be glad to PDF any of my chapters if you want to read them with your e-reader. Just drop me a message.
Saturday July 20, 1996
Connor Avery McKeithan was at the living room window, anxiously waiting for his godfather to arrive. Today was his eighth birthday.
Like every Saturday, Connor's godfather would visit him but today, even if it was his birthday, Connor wished he wouldn't come. The previous night, he had had a dream, a horrible dream in which his godfather had died in a motorbike accident on his way home after his weekly visit. In his dream, Connor had seen a green car run a red light and hit his godfather square on. His godfather hadn't had a chance.
The sound of a motorbike coming down the street brought his attention back to the window. A few moments later, his godfather rode onto the sidewalk and parked his bike right under the living room window. Taking a deep breath, Connor walked towards the front to look at the door which his mum had just opened and stayed half-hidden by the living room wall.
"Mary!" said his godfather, hugging her. "As lovely as ever! Where is my big lazy brother?"
"I heard that!" called Connor's dad from the kitchen.
"And you? You're not saying hi?" asked his godfather, turning to Connor with a wide smile.
Connor ran to him and hugged him as strongly as he could. His godfather had ridden his motorbike and he was wearing the same clothes he had seen in his dream. Connor was sad and was fighting the growing lump in his throat. How was he ever to convince his godfather to leave his bike behind?
The small birthday party was a subdue affair for Connor. While his parents and godfather had laughed and applauded at the right moment, Connor spirit would simply not lift. Even when he opened his godfather's gift, which was a set of wooden small trucks and cars he could paint himself, his spirit did not rise.
"What's bothering you, young fellow?" asked his godfather later that evening, when he was tucking him in for the night. "You haven't been at all cheerful today."
"Don't ride your motorbike home," begged Connor. "Ride the Tube instead."
"And why would I want to do that?" asked his godfather with a smile. "My bike is a lot faster."
"Because you'll get in an accident and you'll die."
"Of course I won't," said his godfather, dismissing the warning with a wave of his hand. "I'll be just fine, you'll see," he added with a grin.
"No, you won't!" said Connor, his little fists hitting his godfather on the chest. "I saw it in my dreams! There will be a red light and this green car won't be able to stop! You'll be hit by that car!" he said, tears falling from his eyes.
His godfather took him in his arms and hugged him tightly.
"Connor, it was only a dream," he said gently. "I'll be fine. I don't live very far and there is not a lot of traffic at this time."
"Please," begged Connor again. "Don't take your motorbike home."
"Connor, I love you and I understand your fears, but I'll be fine."
Connor hugged him then, knowing in his heart it would be the last time he ever would.
"I love you, too," he said as his godfather turned off the light and left.
Connor cried himself to sleep and was woken by the doorbell. He figured it wasn't very late since his parents hadn't come up to bed yet. Dreading this impromptu visitor, Connor got out of bed and went to the top of the stairway where he could see the front door. He saw his mother opened the door to reveal a police officer with a sober expression.
"Mrs Mary McKeithan?"
"Yes," she answered.
"Mrs McKeithan, I'm afraid I have bad news. There was an accident earlier tonight and I'm sorry to have to tell you that Mr John McKeithan was killed."
"Thank you for notifying us," said his mother numbly, closing the door.
"No," whispered Connor. "No! I told him not to use his bike!" he cried.
"Connor," whispered Mrs McKeithan, looking up the stairs.
"I told him the car wouldn't be able to stop! I told him the car would run a red light. And I told him he would get hit by a green car! And he didn't want to believe me!"
In tears, Connor ran to his room and slammed the door behind him.
A week later, it was raining during the funeral at the cemetery. It suited Connor's mood perfectly since he was so sad but also so very angry.
His godfather hadn't believed him.
He hadn't believed him and he had died.
His tears of grief were mixed with tears of anger throughout the ceremony and he was still crying when his mum came and found him in his bedroom later that afternoon. She sat on the bed next to him and took him in her arms.
"Connor, sweetheart, how did you know John would get in an accident?" she asked gently.
"I – I had s – seen it in my d – dream," sobbed Connor against his mother's bosom.
"In a dream?"
"Yes," answered Connor. "I – I saw the car r-run the r-red light. I s-saw the green c-car hit him."
"Was it the first time you dreamt about something that ended up happening?"
"You'll c-cut your f-finger on a k-knife while doing the d-dishes t-tonight," hiccupped Connor in response.
In reality, Connor had had these dreams for as long as he could remember but the happenings were so minor he rarely paid any attention to them. Who really cared that Miss Annigan, the next door neighbour, would find a kitten she would name Girly? And who cared the other neighbour, Mr Murphy, would get a letter from his long lost son?
His mother held him a little longer.
"Will you be okay?" she asked.
He nodded and she left him a few moments later to go cook dinner.
That night, while she was doing the dishes, she did cut herself on a knife.