A/N: I do not own Harry Potter

Written for The Houses Competition, Pre-Round Challenge

House: Hufflepuff

Position: Prefect

Prompt: Trish - Leta Lestrange

Wordcount: 1153

A Guilty Conscience

Leta Lestrange sat waiting in their usual spot, it was a cosy spot, a little green hill with a small cluster of trees. It was where Newt had first introduced her to the bowtruckles. She remembered how shy he had been, how he avoided meeting her eye, and yet he was far kinder to her than anyone else at Hogwarts had been. Leta remembered how his face lit up around the creatures that he cared for. He had far more affection for them than many of their schoolmates, not that Leta could blame him.

Newt had become her only friend at Hogwarts, and somehow the shy, awkward boy had softened her hard heart. He had shown her that not everyone in the world was cruel, that some people were warm and kind, and that some people cared for her. This was not something that Leta knew; what she did now was that her father despised her and held at a distance in their cold but lavish home. Leta was given everything that she could need, except for love and compassion—until Newt.

Leta sat on the soft green grass, leaning against one of the solid tree trunks, her head in her hands. Her stomach was in knots, and after all, Newt was not to blame for what had happened, and yet he was taking the blame. He had been convinced that they would go easier on him; Newt had never been in trouble before. Now, Leta wondered if that was just what Newt had wanted her to believe. There was a student in the Hospital Wing, so how could Newt not get into serious trouble?

Lost in her own thoughts, she didn't hear the soft sound of someone approaching. A gentle hand on her shoulder told her she wasn't alone, and when she looked up she was looking into a set of bright blue eyes that were vivid and lively.

"Newt," she whispered, her voice frail.

Newt smiled, though Leta only noticed as it brightened his eyes, and she couldn't tear her eyes away from them. He so rarely felt comfortable being so intimate, and looking directly into Newt's eyes made her feel closer to someone than she ever had before.

"What happened?" she asked.

Newt's smile faded instantly, and his eyes shifted away from hers. He never could hold eye contact when he was nervous or upset.

"I—I can tell them it was me," she whispered reluctantly. "It was my jarvey after all." It wasn't that she was heartless, but Newt's family wasn't like hers, and getting into trouble at school was so much worse for her. Leta had to contend with her father berating her about bringing shame on the family, but Newt's family would be a lot more supportive; she thought anyway.

"It's okay," Newt replied uncomfortably. He moved to sit down beside her. He was as awkward as ever.

For him, the bowtruckles even came down from their hiding places, and again, his small smile could be seen.

"Professor Dumbledore is going to talk to Professor Dippet about it," he smiled sadly. "He doesn't think I should be expelled, but I know Dippet does."

"Thank you, Newt," Leta replied, resting her head on his shoulder. "You really are the best friend."

"Prewett is likely to be okay too," Newt continued, his voice quiet and unassuming. "I thought you might be worried."

"I was more worried about you, to be honest," she said with a sad smile. "I don't want you to be expelled."

"Professor Dumbledore will fix it, I'm sure," Newt replied, almost as if he were trying to convince himself rather than Leta.

"What happens until they decide?" she asked.

Newt shrugged, and they sat in silence. He did not look at Leta again, but he focused all his attention on one little bowtruckle. Pickett was one of Newt's closest friends, and as he ruminated on his fate, all his attention was focused on the tiny creature.

It was that evening that she was called to Professor Dumbledore's office. She tried to hold her head high as she walked down the corridors, down the stairs to the second floor where he taught Defence Against the Dark Arts. She walked into the classroom and up the winding staircase to the office above. She was far more nervous now. He sat there, his bright blue eyes staring her down. She felt instantly that he could see through her and maybe even disliked her.

"Take a seat, Miss Lestrange," he said in a gentle tone.

Leta straightened herself up, refusing to let the pressure get to her, and walked around to the chair in front of his desk.

"What's wrong, Professor?" she asked, in an attempt to sound both dignified and like she had nothing to hide.

"I have noticed you spend a great deal of time with Mr Scamander," he began as he clasped his hands before him. "And I wondered if you knew anything about the incident with the jarvey? Newt is a very conscientious boy, and it is most out of character for him to be involved in an incident like this." Professor Dumbledore then sat in silence, waiting her out.

"It was an accident, sir," she replied simply. "Newt didn't intend for it to happen, but things just got out of hand."

"That, too, seems very out of character for Newt. I have noticed he has a remarkable gift with a variety of magical creatures, and shows a great deal of care towards his peers."

She knew what he was inferring: that she was the cause of Prewett's accident, and that she lacked the same care that Newt had. She would not give him the satisfaction.

"Newt is very talented with magical creatures, sir. However, he is also only a student, and sometimes his enthusiasm gets the better of him. I know that Newt has been very upset about Prewitt, and he is feeling ever so guilty. I do not think I know of anyone else that would have a jarvey in school, and there is no one as passionate as Newt where such things are concerned."

She looked up at him defiantly, refusing to break. Her chocolate brown eyes met his blue ones, but now there was a touch of sadness. She wondered if he already knew the truth, and maybe if he thought that she would be willing to say it out loud, just to save Newt?

"Okay, Miss Lestrange," he said. "You may go."

Leta stood and left, her heart sinking with remorse. She knew that now Newt would be expelled, and she also knew she could have stopped it. The weight she carried towards from professor's office seemed to grow and consume her, filling her with guilt.

"But there is nothing to be done, Leta," she comforted herself. But she knew that was not true. She would always bear the guilt of getting Newt expelled.