The Greatest Kind of Magic

9. Aftermath

Six Hogwarts students died in the fire. Two had been in Hufflepuff, three in Ravenclaw and one in Gryffindor. The entire school was in shock. The day after the attack, the Great Hall was decorated with black drapes. Mealtimes passed in solemn silence. A mournful hush descended over the entire school, grief mingled with fear and uncertainty.

Who had carried out the attack? Surely, Voldemort himself had not come to Hogsmeade? And what would be the consequences? Was Hogwarts safe?

Clearly, some parents did not think so, and several Muggle-born students left the school. Others, however, steeled themselves to fight. They would not be cowed, they would not be forced out of the world they had come to love. In whispers, the news spread: Harry Potter was re-forming the DA! The original members extended the invitation to those they could trust, and soon it seemed that half the school was in on the secret. Only the Slytherins remained in the dark: it did not escape everybody's notice that none of their students had perished in the blaze.

Dumbledore announced that every student, who had helped to rescue victims, attend to the injured, or hold back the crowd of enthusiasts, would receive fifty house points. Hermione, who had taken charge in the nick of time, and organised the entire operation, received one hundred points. The sand in the hour-glasses, which recorded House points, rose steeply for Gryffindor, Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw. Slytherin's, however, remained where it was. It seemed that Slytherin House had not only escaped from losing a student in the tragedy, but it had also escaped from helping to rescue others. Hostility against the House of green-and-silver soared higher than ever before. Wherever they went, the Slytherins were regarded with cold, suspicious eyes.

***

Liam knew nothing of what happened in the school that first day after the fire. He spent the day drifting in and out of a feverish sleep, and was rarely aware of his surroundings.

By the second day, Madam Pomfrey's potions began to take effect, and Liam woke up. He was still exhausted and weak, but at least he was conscious. He was desperate for news, but Madam Pomfrey proved less than forthcoming with answers to his questions, and as everybody was in class, there were no visitors to the hospital wing.

Liam's burns had by then been completely healed. Even though he had grown up in a wizarding household, he still marvelled at the fact that the burns had disappeared without even a scar to remember them by. He thought back to the time he had splashed boiling oil on his arm, while stirring the deep dryer at McDonald's. Liam's mother had offered to heal the burn by magic, but Liam refused: what if the other workers noticed that his hideous burn had disappeared overnight? It had taken weeks to heal, and in the end, Liam was left with an ugly brown scar to remind him of the accident.

Most of the other victims of the fire had been healed, and the hospital wing was nearly empty once more. Only three students remained - two, who had suffered more than usual from the smoke inhalation, and a third-year Hufflepuff girl, who like Liam had contracted pneumonia from running around in the rain. Madam Pomfrey berated them both, shaking her head. "It's October, and this is Northern Scotland! You should know better! And, oh, the number of colds I have had to treat in these past two days... As if the fire wasn't enough!"

Liam shrugged helplessly, while the Hufflepuff made no response at all. She had been friends with one of the students who died, and had no interest in Madam Pomfrey's frustrations. She was in the bed next to Liam's. At one point, he attempted to speak to her, but she ignored him. Liam was left with nothing to occupy him but his own muddled thoughts.

Over and over, he relived the events of that fateful Saturday. The walk with Ellie, the fight, the Dementor attack...

Above everything else, it was this last event that his mind kept coming back to. The fire had been terrible of course, but those wounds had already healed. The Dementors, on the other hand...

Davey's party. Liam had buried that memory in the back of his mind, but the Demenotrs had brought it back, as sharp and terrible as ever. As he lay in his hospital bed that morning, Liam thought of the party, and of his friend Jessie, and wished desperately that he could speak to her.

The trouble with Jessie was that she had terrible social skills. Somehow, she just did not know how to start a conversation, or to join one. She would try to sidle in, searching for a gap when she could say a word in her soft, uncertain voice, and of course nobody would hear her. After several failed attempts, she would give up, and just stand there, hoping someone would notice her.

Nobody ever did, of course. She was a lot like Ellie in that respect. However, whereas Ellie had simply accepted her own social incompetence with a quiet resignation, Jessie tried to find other ways to make people notice her. She had tried joining social clubs, sports teams, even a Christian youth group - all to no avail. It was a simple fact that she did not know how to communicate with people, and had no luck in making friends.

Before Davey's party, Liam had not known any of this. He knew Jessie vaguely as somebody who went to his school. He did not know that by that time, Jessie was severely depressed, or that she cut her arms as a perverse method of drawing attention to herself. She claimed later that it also made her feel better when she was upset, but Liam never really believed it. As far as he was concerned, pain was pain, and hurting yourself physically was no way to stop yourself hurting emotionally.

All Liam knew, when he stumbled into that bathroom at Davey's party, was that there was a girl lying on the floor and that there was blood splattered all over the white tiles. There was vomit in the bathtub and a razorblade in the sink, which was also splattered with blood.

For a moment, Liam just stood there, trying to comprehend what he was seeing. Then, he was down on his knees beside the girl, slapping her face and screaming at the same time, "Help! Somebody help! Help me!"

The girl was breathing, still, but the cuts on her arms were bleeding heavily. By some miracle, Davey heard Liam's shouts above the din of the party, and came running to his aid. The moment Liam heard his footsteps in the hallway, he screamed, "Get an ambulance, now!"

Davey, who had not quite grasped the seriousness of the situation, tried to protest. "Are you kidding? The house reeks of pot smoke!"

Liam whirled around. He was on the edge of hysteria. "Get the fucking ambulance!" he screamed.

"But can't you just..." Davey waved his hand vaguely.

"No! Just call the ambulance!" Panic was threatening to overwhelm him. The girl was bleeding, bleeding to death. Liam knew all about suicide, knew that sometimes people just couldn't handle things anymore, and they just wanted to end it; he knew all about Kurt Cobain. But nothing could have prepared him for this, for finding a girl bleeding to death in Davey's bathroom, of all places...

Liam knew what Davey wanted him to do: "Can't you just heal her with magic?" were the unspoken words. Liam knew it was no use, but he tried anyway, tried to focus his power on the girl...

The bathroom window exploded outwards, showering the driveway with broken glass. Seeing this, Davey finally turned and ran for the phone, leaving Liam alone with the dying girl.

He tried to remember his first aid lessons, but his own brain was muddled by shock and terror and alcohol. A bottle of cologne exploded on the shelf.

Elevate the wound, he remembered that, so he held the girl's arms, so the blood dripped down onto his own hands, staining the sleeves of his shirt. He tried to hold together the edges of the wounds, but he couldn't do it on his own, so he screamed for help in a high-pitched, hysterical voice. Davey came back and knelt down beside him. He held one of Jessie's arms, while Liam held the other. It felt horrible: Liam was terrified that his fingers would slip in the blood, and he would drop Jessie's arm. He held it tight, however, held it tight for all of eternity, which was how long it seemed to take for the ambulance to arrive.

When the ambulance did arrive, and Jessie was rushed away, Liam remained on the bathroom floor, shaking and staring at his bloodied hands. Davey sat beside him, completely sober now, and tried to get him to snap out of his trance. "Liam, come on, mate, she'll be fine, it's okay, snap out of it, mate, what the hell is wrong with you..."

Davey was more scared by Liam's reaction than by Jessie herself; but Liam kept seeing her there, lying curled up on the blood-stained white tiles...

She hadn't meant to kill herself, she told him later. And in his own mind, he knew that it would have made no sense - if you really wanted to die, why do it a party, for God's sake? He visited her after the party, the only person to do so. She was shy at first, but eventually they got talking, and when two weeks later, Jessie went back to school, Liam made sure she was never left out of conversations again.

But the memory of that awful night remained. It had shaken Liam deeply, and for a long time, he found it hard to sleep, because he kept on seeing Jessie's blood, splattered on Davey's white tiles.

With a shudder, Liam forced his mind back to the present. Jessie was fine now, he reminded himself. She was fine. She didn't even cut her arms anymore. Why did he keep coming back to that night? Liam forced his thoughts on to the fire, because even that was better than thinking about Davey's party.

***

At lunchtime, two Hufflepuff third-years came to visit Liam's silent companion. Liam noticed that one of them was Sylvia Rodney, the girl who like Liam had come from a Muggle school.

The Hufflepuffs talked in low voices for some time, apparently trying to comfort the sick girl. When they finally turned to leave, Liam called out to Sylvia.

"Hey - I'll catch up," she said to her friend, and came over to Liam's bed. "Hello," she said quietly.

"Hi." Liam smiled at the girl. "How are you getting along?"

Sylvia smiled in return. "It's been hard, but everyone's been really great, they've all been helping me. I can't believe that Jeremy guy said Hufflepuffs are stupid, they are so not, and they are all really nice!" She glanced over at her sick friend, and her smile faded. "It's terrible, what happened. I can't believe Johhny is... And all those others... Mum said it would be safe here, but no one ever died at my old school!"

"Yeah," said Liam, nodding. "I know what you mean."

"I'm afraid when she hears about this, she will make me come home. I don't want to leave, now. I love it here. I've never had such good friends before. I don't care if You-Know-Who attacks again, as long as my friends are here..."

"Jesus, don't say that. People are dead, for God's sake. I hope nothing like that ever happens again."

"So do I, of course, but all I'm saying is, I don't care how dangerous it is, I'd rather be here than anywhere else. D'you understand?"

Liam nodded. He did understand, though he was not sure if he shared the sentiment. He thought about Sylvia's words after she left, and wondered if his mother would want him to come home now. He wondered whether he wanted to come home.

He wanted to see his friends again, that was true. And to be able to play his keyboards again, and to listen to his CDs, that would be heaven. And yet... Liam realised that something was holding him back, that he did not really want to leave Hogwarts anymore. Something about the castle and grounds had become familiar and welcoming: it felt like home. And he realised with a pang that if he left, he would probably never see Ellie again, and that she had become dear to him. He also realised that he did not want to give up his lessons. His Charms work was improving rapidly, and he was beginning to enjoy the subject. Also, now that he had proven himself competent in Potions, Snape had given up picking on him specifically, and Liam was beginning to find Potions as fascinating as Hermione told him it would be.

So no, Liam did not want to leave just yet. He wished there was some way to bring his two lives together: if he could just bring his friends, and his music, to Hogwarts, his life would be perfect. As things were, Liam knew that one day he would have to make a choice between the magical world of his family, and the Muggle world of his friends. He hoped he would not have to make that choice soon.

***

Harry, Ron and Hermione came to visit him before dinner. Liam was pleasantly surprised: he still did not know anything about the attack apart from the few snippets he had gathered from Sylvia, and he was eager for news. He was also bored, and wanted somebody to talk to.

"How are you feeling?" asked Hermione, as the trio made themselves comfortable around Liam's bed.

"Better," he said. "Well, the burns are gone altogether, as you can see, it's just the pneumonia keeping me here now. Madam Pomfrey says I have to stay here for two more days."

Ron shook his head. "I still can't believe what you did, mate. Why the hell did you just rush in there like that?"

Liam shrugged. "I don't know. Seemed like a good idea at the time." In fact, he was really embarrassed about the whole incident. He realised, in retrospect, that it had been an incredibly stupid thing to do. Liam blamed television. In films, the hero would dash into the fire, rescue the girl, the baby and the cat (and if the occasion called for it, the family heirlooms) and run back out with his hair stylishly dishevelled. He did not pass out from smoke inhalation within three metres of the door.

Harry grinned. "Not the first time you've done something stupid without thinking, is it? You have a habit of rushing into things..."

Liam raised his eyebrows. "What are you talking about?"

"The garbage bin incident. With Dudley. Remember?"

Liam's mouth dropped open in surprise. "You remember that?"

"Of course. It was the only time someone tried to stand up to Dudley on my behalf. Not that it worked, but it was still nice."

"Jesus," said Liam. He remembered the incident all too well. It had been in the last year of primary school, when Liam was ten years old. He had been playing football with Davey, and was searching for the ball after an over-enthusiastic kick. It had rolled behind the dustbins near the school kitchens. As Liam picked it up, he heard shouts and laughter from behind the red-brick building, and he became curious.

Behind the kitchens, he saw a small group of boys, all standing around a large dustbin. Standing in the dustbin was that shy, skinny kid called Harry Potter, who always wore baggy clothes and broken glasses. The other boys were laughing and jeering. As Liam watched, Dudley Dursley, whom Liam knew as a merciless bully, threw an apple-core at the boy in the bin. It hit him in the forehead and bounced off, leaving a small piece of apple in Harry's black fringe.

Liam suddenly felt extremely angry. Dudley had been terrorising this school for years, but most people had learned to avoid him, and sought protection by hanging around in groups. But Harry had no friends, no one to stand up for him, and Dudley was tormenting him for no reason but that.

Fuelled by righteous anger, Liam charged straight at Dudley. At the last moment, he bent down and head-butted him full in the stomach.

Dudley stumbled backwards, groaning with pain and shock. Liam approached him, ready to strike another blow, but before he could do so, two pairs of arms grabbed him from behind.

It was then that Liam realised that he was outnumbered six to one, that there were no teachers around, and that he was the smallest boy in his year by a full three inches.

Dudley's cronies threw him bodily to the ground, and held him down while Dudley gathered his wits. As Dudley was not particularly bright, this did not take very long, and soon he was punching Liam in the stomach, so hard that Liam could not breathe.

Dudley soon grew bored, and told the other boys to keep holding Liam. He walked over to Harry, who was still standing in the dustbin, and laughed. "Got yourself a defender, Harry! Look how brave he is!" He jeered at Liam, who was crying from the pain.

Then Dudley gave Harry a violent push, and Harry went sprawling along with the dustbin. Dudley picked up the bin and walked back over to Liam. He told his friends to let go, and when Liam sat up, Dudley overturned the bin on his head. The boys laughed and jeered and then they walked away, leaving Liam and Harry alone.

Harry lifted the bin off Liam's head. "Thanks," he said. "It was pointless, though. Dudley always wins. He's too big and he has too many friends." He picked the apple out of his hair with a sad expression on his face.

Liam sniffed. Through his tears, he noticed that although he had been beaten and humiliated even more than Liam, Harry was not crying. In fact, Liam realised, Harry never cried. Almost every other victim of Dudley's gang had been reduced to tears, but not this boy, who was shy and skinny and had nobody to stand up for him. Liam felt incredibly sorry for him, and wished he was strong and could defeat Dudley.

But he never tried to stand up for Harry again. He was too scared, and he kept telling himself it was no use. Now, years later, Liam still felt a pang of guilt for his own cowardice. "I'm sorry I never tried to help you again," he said seriously.

Harry actually laughed. "Are you kidding? I never expected you to. That one incident was amazing enough."

Liam wanted to change the subject. "So, anyway. What's been going on? What do they know about the attack?"

They quickly filled him in on what had been happening in the school.

"My God," whispered Liam. "Six people? I just heard about the two Hufflepuffs..."

"Yeah, and of course nobody knows who's behind it, but everyone suspects the Slytherins," said Ron. "Like, nobody remembers even seeing any Slytherins at the Three Broomsticks that day, and that's a bit suspicious, isn't it? I mean, I know for a fact the Slytherins knew about the attack, but there's just no way to prove it!"

Liam remembered something then. "Leighton. Leighton was there. Or at least, he was on his way there."

Harry started. "That kid we saw on the road? Yeah, that's true, what was he doing there?"

"Ellie said he was running towards the village. Running, mind you. In the rain. Sounds pretty suss, to me."

"But if the Slytherins knew about the attack, why would he be running towards the village?" asked Hermione, looking thoughtful.

"Maybe," said Liam, "he wanted to warn people. I mean, he is new, maybe he's not really in with the other Slytherins. Maybe he found out about it and wanted to warn people. He was acting strange a couple of weeks ago, like he wanted to tell me something, but changed his mind. And he seemed really unhappy about being in Slytherin."

"No way," said Ron. "He was put into Slytherin, wasn't he? The Sorting Hat never lies."

"Ron, how many times do I have to tell you, just because he's in Slytherin, doesn't mean he's evil!" protested Hermione.

"Yeah, right! Come on, Hermione, they are evil through and through! Every single one of You-Know-Who's lot was from Slytherin!"

"What about Pe... Wormtail? He was in Gryffindor! And Snape was in Slytherin, but he's on our side!"

"That remains to be seen," muttered Ron darkly.

"Ron..."

Liam cut her off, not wanting them to be thrown out of the hospital wing for making noise. "Look, calm down, guys. The thing about the Sorting hat is, it gave us a choice about where we wanted to go. Leighton heard all that crap about Slytherin being the best House, so he decided to go there, but maybe he made a mistake? I'm not saying I like the guy, he's a pompous git, but I reckon he knows something, and I reckon he might not be like the other Slytherins."

"Well, do you think we could talk to him?" asked Hermione.

"I don't know. I think he'd be reluctant to tell us anything, actually. But I'll try, at least he sort of knows me."

"All right," said Hermione. "It's the best lead we have, anyway."

Liam frowned. "But why are you guys investigating this? Isn't the Ministry doing anything?"

Harry smiled grimly. "Of course they are, but they're not going to tell us, are they? They think we're too young to be involved - never mind that six of us are dead! Like, we rescue everyone from a burning building, but that doesn't prove anything, to them. Just give us some House points and a pat on the head!"

Harry's eyes were blazing with anger. He took a few deep breaths to get it under control. "Anyway," he continued in a slightly calmer voice, "we're not going to wait around for more people to die." He lowered his voice to a conspirational whisper. "Liam - last year, when nobody believed Voldemort was back, we started a club, to help people learn spells to defend themselves. We had to keep it secret, and in the end we got caught. But this year, that Umbridge woman is gone, and we're going to start it up again." He glanced at Ron and Hermione, who nodded encouragingly. "We're going to fight Voldemort in our own way. We can't just hope the Ministry, or the school, will protect us - you saw what happened on Saturday. So anyway - do you want to join?"

Liam was staring at him in surprise. He had not expected this. He nodded eagerly. "Yes! Of course I do."

"You're in. But remember - it's a secret. You can't breathe a word to anyone, you understand?"

"Of course. What, do you think I'm stupid, or something?"

Ron grinned. "Well, judging by your performance on Saturday..."

"Oh, shut up," laughed Liam and threw a pillow at him. "Listen, can I tell one person? Can I tell Ellie?"

Harry looked at Ron and Hermione questioningly. "Eloise Midgen? I don't know. I don't know her, really."

Hermione nodded at Liam. "Yeah, Eloise is okay. I think we can trust her. Just make sure she doesn't tell anyone else, okay?"

"Yeah, sure."

Hermione grinned. "We'd better get to dinner. But before we go, I've got something for you, Liam. Should make your time here a bit more interesting."

"It's not homework, is it?" asked Liam suspiciously.

"Well... there's that too, Snape wants an essay on Everlasting Fire fuels, but I've got something else as well."

She reached into her bag and pulled out a strange, lopsided package. She unwrapped it to reveal what appeared to be a wizard's radio connected to a Walkman by a thin, silver chord.

Liam had to marvel at that Walkman - it must have been the mother of all Walkmans. It was the size and weight of a brick, and had the plain, angular design directly associated with the 1980's. Liam stared at the contraption curiously. "What is it?" he asked.

Hermione smiled. She took out her wand, touched it to the silver chord and said "Formare Inane". She drew her wand up and over the Walkman, and as Liam watched, a silvery membrane appeared, covering the Walkman like a bubble.

Hermione put her wand away, and reached through the membrane. Her fingers passed through freely. She pressed "Play".

From the wizard's radio came the sounds of Abba's "Waterloo". Liam stared at the contraption incredulously, and then laughed. "Abba?" he asked, grinning. "You're into Abba?"

Hermione blushed. "It was the only tape I had. I asked my parents to send it to me with the Walkman, so I could experiment."

"So, how does it work?"

Behind Hermione, Ron was shaking his head, and mouthing, "Don't ask, mate!"

But it was too late. Hermione beamed at Liam's question, and launched into a completely incomprehensible explanation of the workings of her invention.

When she finally ran out of breath, Liam asked her politely whether she could repeat that in English.

Looking somewhat put out, Hermione said, "Look, the spell creates a sort of bubble, with a magical vacuum inside it. That means magical energy can't penetrate it," she explained, rolling her eyes at the boys' puzzled expressions. "Of course, if you just put the Walkman in there and press "play", you won't actually hear anything. So I hooked it up to wizard radio, and you get the sound through that."

"Wow," said Liam, impressed. "That's really clever. And this'll work for any Muggle gadget?"

"Well, the bigger it is, the harder to cast the spell, but it can certainly handle a CD player."

Liam couldn't stop smiling. Hermione had just given him the most wonderful gift he could have hoped for.

"Look, we really have to go," she said, gathering up her things. "I'll leave the walkman here, you can listen to it if you want," said Hermione. "If you don't mind a bit of Abba."

"Ahh, I suppose Abba's better than nothing," said Liam, still smiling. "Thanks, Hermione."

"You're welcome."

"See you later, Liam," said Ron.

"Bye!" called Liam as they began to walk away.

Just before they disappeared out the door, Hermione turned around and said sternly, "Don't forget your Potions essay!"

And Liam was left alone once again. He listened to Abba for a while, until Madam Pomfrey told him to switch it off. She brought him dinner, which he picked at lazily, because his illness had killed his appetite. Afterwards, he attempted to work on the Potions essay, but soon gave up, feeling weak and exhausted. Eventually, he fell asleep, and dreamt of Jessie, who was running in the pouring rain, wearing a Dementor's cloak.

***

It was sometime past midnight, and the Slytherin common room was lit only by the glowing embers of the dying fire. Jeremy Leighton was standing before a group of fifth, sixth and seventh years, struggling to hide his fear.

"What were you doing on the Hogsmeade path, Leighton?" asked Draco Malfoy softly. "You knew what was about to happen." A cold smile spread across Malfoy's lips. "Why endanger yourself, Leighton?"

"I... I just wanted to watch!" stammered Jeremy, silently cursing the tremor in his voice. "I... wanted to see the Dark Mark."

The smile never left Malfoy's face as he stepped closer. "Really. Why, that explains everything, doesn't it?" he said, turning to the other students for conformation. There was a chorus of sniggers. "You wanted to watch."

Jeremy nodded desperately. He had not expected it to be like this. Jeremy believed with all his heart that magic belonged in the hands of the purebloods, and he despised Muggles. He had been brought up to do so. And when he heard that Slytherin only accepted purebloods, that was where he wanted to go.

But nobody ever said anything about killing anybody. Jeremy's family lived in a remote part of the country, and Jeremy knew little about the outside world. His father told him Lord Voldemort would make the world a better place. He never said how.

"It's good that you wanted to watch, Leighton," said Malfoy thoughtfully. "Because you know, when I saw you coming down that path, I almost thought for a moment that you had decided to play the little hero." He leered menacingly at Jeremy, forcing him to take a step back. "Wouldn't that have been terrible, Leighton, if you'd decided to warn Hogsmeade of out little plan. Imagine, Leighton - those students might not have died. What a waste of a good fire!"

Somewhere deep inside his trembling body, Jeremy found a spark of courage. "Some of those students were pureblood!" he blurted out.

Malfoy's smile disappeared. "Were they, Leighton? Is that so?" he yelled, forcing Jeremy to step back again, until he felt the cold stone wall behind him. "So are the Weasleys, Leighton. So is that scum, Grady. Are you so thick that you cannot grasp what we're doing here? They betrayed their wizard blood, they are no better than Mudbloods themselves! If I didn't know better, Leighton, I'd say you were going to betray us!"

"N-no! I wasn't, I swear!"

"Prove it, Leighton. You are new, so you deserve a second chance."

Jeremy took a deep, shuddering breath. "What do you want me to do?" he asked.