The Greatest Kind of Magic

18. A Second Chance

"We have to tell Dumbledore."

An hour had passed since Harry, Ron and Hermione had overheard the argument in the library. They had crouched there behind the shelves until Jeremy and Eloise packed up their books and left. Harry had been hoping they'd say more about the attack on Liam, but it seemed that topic of conversation was closed. A couple of times, Eloise had begun to say something, but a sharp "Drop it!" from Jeremy was enough to silence her.

"But what do we tell him, Hermione?" Harry asked now, as they walked briskly out of the library. "All he said was, 'You know what happened to Grady.' I mean, we can't prove he was talking about the attack, can we?"

"Yes, but it's pretty obvious that's what he was talking about. I think Dumbledore will want to know about anything this suspicious!"

Harry still felt uneasy. "I don't know. I don't think we should just run to Dumbledore like that. We should at least try to find out more."

Ron nodded in agreement. "Yeah. I feel rotten just snitching to Dumbledore."

Hermione grabbed them both by the arms. "Liam nearly died! Are you two out of your minds? Don't you remember what Tonks said?" She stamped her foot in exasperation. "We're the Order's eyes and ears inside Hogwarts! Dumbledore needs to know about this."

"Yeah, but..."

Ron's protest was cut off by Hermione's glare. "You two need to grow up," she said firmly. "We're in the middle of a war. We can't just take this into our own hands."

Harry frowned. He knew she was right, but he still didn't like it. He wasn't sure why, but it seemed wrong to just tell Dumbledore.

It's like admitting we can't handle it, admitting we need him to look after us, Harry realised with surprising clarity. And that's just it, isn't it? We can't handle it. And we shouldn't even be trying.

I guess Hermione's right. We need to grow up.

But there was another problem: should they tell Liam? Harry was sure that if they told Dumbledore, he would ask them to keep their knowledge to themselves. And, though Harry was uneasy about telling Liam, he felt this was the one person who definitely needed to know about the conversation in the library.

"You know what I don't get?" he said. "I thought Eloise was friends with Liam! I can't believe she'd have anything to do with this!"

"Yeah, I know!" said Ron. "I mean, Leighton, fine, he's a Slytherin, and he didn't seem to like Liam much. But Eloise?"

Hermione shrugged. "I don't understand it either. But I think Eloise fancied him. Maybe she got hurt somehow."

Harry thought about Liam, and how he always seemed to be with Ginny these days. It was obvious something was going on there - perhaps Eloise was jealous? He was about to say this, but stopped. He wasn't sure whether Ron had noticed anything about Liam and Ginny. And Ron never seemed too thrilled about Ginny having boyfriends.

Besides, Harry thought, that only happened recently. I'm sure they weren't that close before the attack.

"Should we tell Liam?" Ron asked, echoing Harry's own misgivings. "I mean, he wanted to know if we found out anything - can't blame him - but I don't fancy telling someone their friend tortured them and wiped their memory!"

"I don't think Eloise did any of that," said Hermione. "It sounded like she was trying to talk Jeremy out of doing something. But she obviously knows what happened, and she knows Jeremy took part. I don't understand why she'd keep that from Liam, if they're friends."

They all considered this. It's all so complicated, Harry thought. It's so hard to know what to do.

"So should we tell him?" Ron asked again, breaking the silence.

"We should talk to Dumbledore first," said Hermione firmly. "He needs to know about this, and maybe he can tell us what to do about Liam."

But Harry felt a stir of rebellion. "Liam needs to know about this, too. And Dumbledore - I bet he'll tell us not to say anything. Dumbledore always keeps stuff like that hidden. He thinks people can't handle it."

He was startled by the bitterness in his voice. He had tried to keep it in check, but the news of the latest Death Eater attack had reminded him, all too powerfully, of the prophesy that was hanging over his head, and the secret Dumbledore had kept from him all these years.

If I'd known about that prophecy, Sirius might still be alive! Harry thought, with a flash of anger. He told me when it was too late - what bloody difference does it make now? I can't kill Voldemort, and I can't bring Sirius back. Dumbeldore and his bloody secrets.

"Harry, are you all right?" Hermione touched his arm.

Harry forced himself to calm down. "Yeah, I'm fine."

"You looked furious for a moment there, mate," said Ron, sounding worried.

Harry shook his head. "I'm sorry. I..." He knew he had to change the subject, and quickly. He didn't want to think about the prophecy, and he definitely didn't want to talk about it. He hadn't told Ron and Hermione - how could he? The prophecy had been placed on his shoulders. It was his burden until he faced Voldemort. Even if by some slight chance he survived, he'd be a murderer. He couldn't dump that on his closest friends.

For the first time since realising that he had a new family, Harry felt alone, painfully, chillingly alone. These past two weeks, he'd forced the prophecy to the back of his mind. Now the old feeling of isolation and of the terrible weight hanging over his head returned full-force. He had to hide that, even from Ron and Hermione. And hiding made him feel even more alone.

"I'm just tired," he said finally. "I was hoping for a quiet Christmas. Stupid, I know."

Hermione squeezed his arm. "No, not stupid. I wanted a quiet Christmas, too. I wish we could just sit around playing games and eating sweets and not worrying about anything except exams. And you, Harry - you deserve a quiet Christmas more than anyone." She sighed. "But we have no choice. We have to do what we can, when we can. And right now, we have to tell Dumbledore what we heard."

"Yeah, I know," Harry said, resigned. "Mind you, we didn't hear all that much. But look, whatever Dumbledore says - we have to tell Liam, all right? We can't hide this from him. He needs to know. And if I was him, I know I'd want to know. Okay?"

Hermione frowned. Obviously, it wasn't okay, but she didn't say anything. Ron, on the other hand, shrugged and said, "Whatever you say, mate. I don't much fancy the thought of telling him, but if you reckon we should, then we should. And if I was him, I'd want to know, too."

Harry nodded. "Let's go find Dumbledore."

***

Jeremy hadn't seen Dumbledore's office before. Had things been different, he might've been fascinated by the talking paintings, the strange gadgets, the beautiful phoenix sitting on its perch. But Jeremy didn't even notice his surroundings. The grave faces of the Headmaster, Professor McGonagall and Professor Snape took up all of his attention, along with the pounding of his heart.

"I swear, I don't know what you're talking about," he said, failing miserably to keep his voice steady. "I never touched Grady. I swear!"

He knew they didn't believe him. But surely they couldn't prove it? Just because someone had overheard a conversation, that didn't mean they had proof. Did it?

You're in for it now, Jeremy Leighton. They know you're lying, and they'll prove it, you see if they don't.

Professor McGonagall cleared her throat and looked at him with no trace of pity.

"There is other evidence against you, Leighton. And we want to get to the bottom of this. If you continue to lie to us, we'll be forced to use other means to extract the truth."

"I'm telling the truth!" Jeremy protested desperately. "I am, I swear it!"

The professors exchanged glances. The silence was so tense, Jeremy knew any second now something would snap. He had a feeling it would be him.

Tell them the truth, whispered the voice in his head. They'll find out some other way, and it'll be even worse for you then.

Jeremy cringed on the inside. He couldn't tell them, he couldn't! The only time he'd talked about the attack had been that time with Ellie, and that was because once he'd started talking, he couldn't stop. He hated to even think about it, though his traitorous mind kept regurgitating the memories. Whenever that happened, he'd lie awake at night, drenched in cold sweat.

To try to explain it all to the Professors, who were stern and solemn and knew him for the liar he was - would they show pity, would they show compassion? Would they understand that he had no choice, that no one had a choice when it was Malfoy giving the orders?

It wasn't my fault, dammit! I didn't want to do it!

But there was a nasty little voice in his head, whispering the truth he'd been trying to hide from himself. You did want to do it, Jeremy Leighton. You did, don't you deny it. You hate the Mudbloods, you hate the blood traitors. You knew he was a disgrace to the name of wizard, and you wanted to hurt him, yes, you wanted to. You hate the blood traitors, Jeremy Leighton, you hate them just like your father taught you...

"I didn't want to do it!" he burst out, forgetting where he was, forgetting what was happening. Then reality caught up, a second too late, and he knew he was done for. "I didn't want to do it," he repeated, his voice now a hoarse whisper.

He'd pronounced his death sentence, and there was no going back.

***

McGonagall watched the door shut behind Snape and Jeremy. She waited a few seconds before turning to the Headmaster.

"What will you do?" she asked, watching his face carefully. He looked older today than she'd ever seen him.

Dumbledore sighed heavily. "There is no easy solution, Minerva. He told us the truth in the end, but he didn't tell us all of it. That boy is as terrified as if he were facing Voldemort himself."

McGonagall frowned at this obvious statement. "Of course he's terrified, Albus. He knows how much trouble he's in."

To her surprise, the Headmaster shook his head sadly. "No. It's not our punishment that he's afraid of. I'm sure that's in there somewhere - but there's a much darker fear in that boy."

McGonagall thought about this. It was true, Leighton was clearly scared - but surely that was only to be expected, given the circumstances? A darker fear... Was Dumbledore imagining things?

No, she thought with absolute certainty. If there's one thing he's never been wrong about, it's people's feelings. He knows when something's not right; he can read people better than any Seer.

"So what is he afraid of, then?" she asked. "The other Slytherins?"

"Oh, yes. He told us as much, and it doesn't surprise me. Young Mr Malfoy is becoming a force to be reckoned with. His father's imprisonment has only made him more daring, more ruthless. I suspect he feels he no longer has anything to lose. And perhaps he feels he is taking revenge on the people who put Lucius in Azkaban - however indirectly."

McGonagall absorbed this in silence. She had no trouble believing it. Draco Malfoy wasn't just a bad apple, he was frightening. Almost as frightening as his father. Most of all because he always seemed to wiggle his way out of trouble.

Well, Lucius Malfoy is in Azkaban now, and his son is sure to follow. They're not invincible.

But she took no comfort from this thought. Draco Malfoy was sixteen years old, and every fibre of Professor McGonagall's being screamed out against giving up, against letting him out into the world where he'd sink into the Dark Arts with no hope of recovery. It hurt her more than she would ever admit to see children corrupted, children dragged into the darkness and into evil. This, to McGonagall, was the worst crime of Voldemort, the worst product of the war. Worse than terror, worse than torture, worse even than the deaths of innocent people. Hogwarts was the only magical school in Britain, and every new Death Eater to join Voldemort's ever-growing army had once sat in McGonagall's Transfiguration class. It hurt her more than any Cruciatus, when she heard of their crimes, to remember their young faces and wonder what they might have been.

Perhaps something showed on her normally impassive face, or perhaps it was just that he knew her so well, but Dumbledore seemed to guess what McGonagall was thinking. "It is a terrible thing," he said quietly, "to see children turned to evil."

McGonagall nodded, careful to re-establish her mask, to hold on to the severe face she always hid behind. "What are we going to do?" she asked curtly. That had always been her way: fewer words, more action. Don't dwell on the past, don't wonder what might've been. Wonder what still might be, and how you can make it happen. "Are we going to expel them?"

Dumbledore looked at the list of names Leighton had given them. Nott, Bauer, Parkinson, Goyle... Fourteen names in total - the same fourteen who'd been found floating under the ceilings of their dormitories the morning after Grady was attacked. McGonagall had pressed for punishment then, but she knew that was not the way. Expel them now, and you'll always wonder what they might've been...

"No, I'm not going to expel them," said Dumbledore. "I'm surprised, Minerva, that you'd expect me to."

McGonagall felt her mouth twitching in the corners. No, Dumbledore hadn't lost his grip just yet. "I didn't, really. Mind you, it's tempting. When I think of what they did to Grady..." All hints of smile disappeared. "But if we expel them, they'll run straight to join the ranks of the Death Eaters. We have age restrictions in the Order, but I doubt You-Know-Who has any such scruples. And children make such enthusiastic followers."

"Jeremy didn't seem particularly enthusiastic," Dumbledore said. "No doubt his father will be disappointed."

McGonagall raised her eyebrows. "His father? Is he a Death Eater?"

Dumbledore sighed. "Suspected, never proven. They have some distant relations who are known Death Eaters, but Lord Leighton has a clean record. He keeps to himself, mostly. The whole family does. They even kept their son at home, with a private tutor, rather than send him to Hogwarts."

"I knew that. Do you have any idea why they sent him here now?"

Dumbledore sighed again. McGonagall knew he was exhausted, though he didn't show it. "There could be any number of reasons. But you know our rules, Minerva. If the child shows magical ability, we take them, no questions asked. We give them all a chance."

McGonagall nodded curtly. "Yes, I know."

She looked again at the list of names. All Slytherins, all with dubious family backgrounds. But all children.

"So, what are we going to do?" she asked.

Dumbledore scratched his nose and also looked at the list. "We keep them here. They must be punished, there is no doubt about that. But they must remain here, at Hogwarts. As long as they're here, there is still hope."

***

"Ellie? Eloise Midgen? Are you for real?"

Liam sat on the edge of Ron's bed and stared at Harry in disbelief. It was late in the evening. Ron had been dragged off by Hermione to research something in the library. Ginny was down in the common room, trying to finish a Potions essay she'd been putting off all holidays. The other students were due to return to Hogwarts the next day, and Liam had been hoping to take advantage of the empty dormitory for the last time to play his violin. Harry's interruption had been unwelcome.

Harry's news was even worse.

Harry shook his head. "I'm sorry, Liam. But... I know you wanted to know. I'd want to know."

Liam carefully put down his violin. "Yeah, but... Ellie?" His insides were going cold. Ellie... Ellie and that Slytherin creep...

"Hermione reckons Ellie wasn't involved. Just that she knew about it."

Liam could see Harry didn't like being the bringer of bad news, but he wasn't really thinking about Harry. His mind was back in the hospital wing, back in the pain and the terror of not knowing what'd happened to him.

Waking up in pain... Waking up and not remembering...

Liam realised his hands were shaking. "And Dumbledore?" he asked weakly, hoping desperately that it was all some horrible mistake. "What does Dumbledore think?"

Now Harry's face hardened. "You think he told us? He just said, 'Thank you for telling me. Please keep this to yourselves.' He didn't even want us to tell you."

Liam almost wished Harry hadn't told him. He'd considered Ellie a friend. To think that she'd been - well, Liam didn't know what she'd been - but to think that she'd known about the attack, that she'd known Leighton was involved, and she hadn't said anything! Not only that, but she was friends with that creep! Liam had trusted her.

A great fucking hole ripped in my memory... All I have left is the fear, no, the horror of whatever they did to me... I still don't know! And she knew... She knew, and she kept it from me!

Maybe she's known all along! What else has she been hiding?

Now he felt as if not only his hands, but all his insides were shaking. His thoughts were spiralling out of control.

Great fucking hole... I hurt so much when I woke up...

"Are you okay?" Harry asked.

Liam barely heard him. His mind was back in that gaping hole, that place where all he could feel was terror and pain, but no memories to connect it with. She knew. I trusted her, dammit! I trusted her...

He tried to pull himself together, but he could feel something else now, rising up out of that hole in his memory. It rose like bile out his stomach, leaving its sickening, bitter taste in his mouth.

Hate.

Damn this school, and damn this world, and damn the bloody Slytherins and damn bloody Ellie! I hate them. I hate them all!

"Liam?"

Liam heard Harry's voice, but it felt like it was coming from a great distance. It took conscious effort on Liam's part to focus on Harry's face and force himself to respond.

"Thanks for telling me."

That flat, expressionless voice - it took Liam a moment to realise it was his own.

"Sure you're okay?" Harry asked anxiously.

Liam nodded. He didn't trust himself to speak: he was afraid of hearing that voice again.

This isn't me, he told himself. I'm taking this too hard... I shouldn't be like this.

But those bastards!

Before he even knew what he was doing, he was striding out of the dormitory.

"Liam? Liam!" Harry was calling after him, but Liam ignored him. All he wanted was to find Leighton, find Ellie, and...

He didn't see Ginny stand up as he crossed the common room, didn't hear her brief but fierce argument with Harry as he tried to follow Liam through the portrait hole. The first time he noticed her was when she caught up with him in the hallway and grabbed his arm to pull him back. He wrenched out of her grip and strode on, stopping only when she planted herself in front of him.

"Get out of my way, Ginny!" he shouted, but she refused to move. He stepped to the side and tried to run around her, but a second later, she was in front of him again.

"Liam. Wait. Stop. Just wait, Liam! This isn't you."

Oh, but it is, it is. I hate them. I hate them all...

"Liam. Think. Just what are you gonna do? Just... think for a moment!"

He tried to push past her, but she grabbed him and held on, leaning all her weight against him. "Liam!"

He shoved her hard, and she stumbled backwards. For a split second, Liam thought she was going to fall, but she caught her balance just in time.

The shock in her eyes as she grabbed at the wall to steady herself - that was what finally got through to him.

Think for a moment. You can't do this. You'll hurt her.

Ginny.

Ginny grabbed him again, though he'd stopped struggling. "I know it's bad. I know it is. But you won't make it any better if you... whatever it was you were gonna do."

He didn't say anything. He felt sick. I almost hurt Ginny...

The hate didn't subside, not really. But it wasn't controlling him now. He'd forced it down, chained it up like an ugly, violent beast. I almost hurt Ginny. I almost... and without her, I'd...

He took a few quick, shallow breaths. He let Ginny take his hand and lead him back to the common room. He remained silent until they stopped before the portrait hole. He was afraid to speak. He couldn't believe what he'd just nearly done.

Finally, he managed to whisper, "Thanks." Then, even quieter, "I'm... I'm sorry."

Ginny hugged him.

For a moment he just stood there, numb. The image of Ginny stumbling against the wall kept replaying itself in his mind. But Ginny was still here, still holding him with all her strength and all her love. I don't deserve this, I don't deserve her, Liam thought, as he felt her love breaking through. He closed his eyes and hugged her back, knowing that words would never be enough to tell her how sorry he was, and how much he needed her and loved her. Without her, Liam knew he would fall apart. But with Ginny's arms around him, Liam felt himself returning.

He didn't know what he would've done if he'd found Jeremy or Ellie. And he didn't want to think about it. But the hate was still there, he knew that. He had managed to get it under control. But it hadn't gone away.

***

Jeremy sat in the Slytherin common room and stared into the fire. He couldn't believe he was here: still here, despite what he'd done. There'd be punishment, he knew there would be. He would pay, if not the professors, then the Slytherins, who were bound to find out about his defection.

Jeremy was surprised to realise that he wasn't scared. I should be, I know I should be, but I'm not. I'm calm like I haven't been since I set foot in Slytherin House. It's like I've been scared so much, that there's no more fear left. I'm not scared.

They hadn't expelled him. Jeremy didn't understand why: surely what he'd done should warrant an Azkaban sentence, let alone expulsion? But they hadn't expelled him.

What was it that Dumbledore said? When I asked him, I actually asked him why I was't expelled! What did he tell me?

"Not today, Jeremy." Yes, that was it. "You're not a lost cause just yet, and I'm a firm believer in second chances."

Is that it? A second chance? Does he really think I deserve one?

A second chance. That thought filled Jeremy with the most wonderful, most beautiful feeling he'd ever experienced: hope. If Dumbledore could give him a second chance, that meant Dumbledore believed he deserved it. And if Jeremy deserved it, then maybe he wasn't lost, maybe he wasn't tainted. Maybe next time, he could do the right thing.

Scratch that. Next time I will do the right thing. What've I got to lose? Malfoy will find out I defected, he's bound to. He won't give me a second chance, no way in hell. Either way, I'm dead. Weird how that doesn't scare me. But at least I won't die a puppet, at least I won't die a killer.

And who knows? Maybe I won't die at all.

***

One by one, students drifted back to Hogwarts. Some came by Knight Bus, some by Portkey. Some came by Floo to Hogsmeade. Some didn't come back at all.

Last of all came the Hogwarts Express, carrying those children whose parents didn't heed the warning in The Daily Prophet. The train arrived safely, with no hint of Death Eaters anywhere around Platform 9 ¾ or the station in Hogsmeade. Classes resumed as they always did, though many were smaller than they had been.

For several days, Jeremy waited for the axe to fall. He'd given Dumbledore the names of all of Liam's attackers. He knew it was only matter of time before they were punished. He had no idea what would happen, except that they wouldn't be expelled. He also knew that whatever punishment they received, he himself wouldn't be spared. Willing or not, he'd taken part in the attack. So he'd be punished with the others.

Jeremy accepted this without resentment. His determination to face the consequences and try to set things right hadn't diminished. And the first thing he wanted to do was talk to Liam Grady.

This, however, proved harder than he expected. Slytherins couldn't just go and visit Gryffindors in their spare time. Jeremy had no idea where the Gryffindor common room was, and he never saw Liam in the hallways on his own. In fact, apart from meal times and Charms class, Jeremy never saw Liam at all. It was as if he never came out of his common room. Or as if he vanished instantly when he did.

Jeremy did, however, see a lot of Ellie, and he decided to ask her to pass on a message. Talking to Ellie was difficult now that everybody was back at school, but they managed to meet in the library and have brief whispered conversations almost every day.

On the first Friday after the new term started, Jeremy found her browsing the Transfiguration shelves. Glancing around quickly to make sure no one was watching, he sidled up to her, and whispered: "Hey, Ellie. Remember how you told me I should tell Liam about the attack?"

Ellie nodded, but she didn't smile. She was biting her lip and looking quite upset.

Jeremy wasn't sure how to deal with this. He hesitated before continuing with was he was going to say. "Look, I decided I should do just that. Dumbledore's given me a second chance, and I want to make a clean start."

Ellie looked even more upset now. Jeremy was baffled. He'd expected her to be happy - after all, wasn't this what she wanted him to do?

"What's the matter?" he asked.

"Jeremy, I think he knows!" she replied. Her voice had an edge of despair to it. "He won't talk to me in class, he sits with Eddie Collins and ignores me completely. He must've found out somehow - and now he thinks I'm in on it!"

Ellie's voice had risen. Jeremy nervously put a finger to his lips, afraid someone would overhear. He thought quickly. This wasn't a good start to redeeming himself. The last thing he wanted was for Ellie to get into trouble because of him.

And if Liam thinks Ellie was in on the attack, she might even have to take the blame with the rest of us! Jeremy still didn't know what the punishment would be, but whatever it was, he didn't wish it on Ellie. Whatever else happened, he wanted to make sure her name was clear.

"Okay," he said, trying to sound reassuring. "I'll talk to him myself. I'll tell him you had nothing to do with it."

Ellie nodded, her eyes hopeful. "Please, Jeremy. If you could do that..."

"I can't promise anything," he said quickly. "I was going to ask you to talk to him, because it's practically impossible for me to get him alone."

But Ellie didn't seem to mind this. She'd cheered up considerably at Jeremy's offer. "If you can at least try. He'll hear you out, I'm sure he will. He'll understand."

Jeremy didn't say anything. Ellie was counting on him now, and that felt good. He didn't want to spoil it. But as he left the library to try, once again, to find the elusive Liam Grady, he couldn't help thinking:

Grady won't even let Ellie explain herself, he just ignores her. For such an understanding person, he's acting like a complete prat.

***

Jeremy decided to approach Liam during Charms. Talking to him was out of the question, of course, but Jeremy thought he could get away with passing a note. Before coming to class, he took a small piece of parchment and scribbled:

I have to talk to you about Ellie. Wait for everyone to leave at the end of class.

Then he charmed the parchment so it would crumble to ash as soon as Liam had read it. He waited until the last minute to enter the classroom, so that he knew Liam would already be at his desk. Jeremy dropped the parchment as he walked past.

He watched Liam throughout the lesson, but the older boy gave no sign that he'd read the note. Jeremy tried to concentrate on his work, but by the time the bell rang, all he'd managed was to chew off the end of his quill. He stuffed it hastily into his bag, and then swung his arm to knock over his inkpot.

"Argh," he groaned in pretend annoyance as the black goo splattered over his books and dripped down onto the floor. Kenneth Bauer made as if to help him, but Jeremy waved him away. "Go ahead," he said. "Tell Snape I'll be late."

Kenneth shrugged and walked away. Jeremy busied himself cleaning up the mess as the classroom emptied. Finally, he looked up from his now-clean desk, and saw that Liam was the only one left, apparently writing some last-minute notes.

Jeremy picked up his things and walked over. "Grady," he said, nodding curtly.

Liam looked up. Jeremy almost took a step back when he saw his face. It was a mask of hate.

Liam made no attempt to greet him. "This'd better be good, Leighton," he snapped, his voice icy.

Jeremy took a deep breath. This was it: the moment he'd been anticipating with so much hope and dread. It was his chance to put things right, his chance to clear his conscience. The second chance Dumbledore had given him.

"Look, Grady..." he began, trying not to think of Liam's hate. "I... look, I did something bad. Really, really bad. I didn't want to, but I was scared, and that was why I did it. I wanted to say..."

Jeremy forced himself to look into Liam's eyes, to face his hate. He swallowed. "I was one of the people that attacked you in the library. I... lured you into an ambush, and then... then..."

Liam stood up abruptly. "This was supposed to be about Ellie, Leighton. I know it was you. I know Dumbeldore's onto you. I don't know why you're still here, when you should be on the next Portkey to Azkaban, but don't think you can save yourself by pleading guilty now." He pushed past Jeremy and made for the door, not looking back. "I have nothing to say to you."

His heart sinking, Jeremy dashed after him. "Grady! Listen to me! It was about Ellie, I had to tell you about Ellie, too. She wasn't in on it, okay? She had nothing to do with it. She found out about me, and I made her promise not to tell."

Liam whirled around. "And why should I believe you, Leighton? Last time I did, you lured me into an ambush, as you say. Why should I believe you now?"

"I... you... I just wanted..."

"Drop dead, Leighton." Liam turned his back on Jeremy, and strode off down the hallway.

Jeremy watched him go, unable to think of anything else he could do. His attempt to make amends had failed. The weight in his stomach, which he'd so desperately hoped to relieve by doing this one good deed, now intensified. He'd failed Ellie, and he'd failed himself. There was no escape, no second chance.

I sold my soul to Malfoy, he thought, standing alone in the now-empty Charms classroom. I sold my soul, and no amount of courage will win it back.