Connor had finally caved, and asked McGonagall about Pensieves. Teaching about the Scourge had raised memories of blood rituals and Power-That-Was children who ate people, and the battle of L.A. He was dreading falling asleep tonight.
Professor McGonagall directed him to the Headmaster. When Connor had stepped through the door to his office, the man had been all twinkly eyes and wise smiles and 'Mister Reilly, my dear boy', and other things that made Connor regret not stabbing him back on the Stanford quad.
But, however much he may have disliked the man, he had a Pensieve, and Connor really didn't want to relive some of the worst moments of his life.
Luckily, Dumbledore was not adverse to the idea of lending out his Pensieve- Connor got the impression that he'd heard about the events where he'd woken the entire teacher's hall- and, since Connor wouldn't be able to use it without a wand, the older man was kind enough to place a few choice memories into the artifact for him.
And now, the stone bowl had taken up residence on the desk Connor usually used to grade his student's papers.
And even though he knew he'd sleep without nightmares tonight, Connor didn't think he's be able to sleep easy, knowing his memories were so exposed and out in the open.
He spent the night staring at the damned thing from across the room.