"Help me? No one can help me now, Albus. Look at me." He leaned back against the cell, resting his head on the warm metal bars. It felt so good, the warmth. He barely remembered what it had felt like. The dementors made sure that warmth was the first thing to go when they guarded him. Cold made him shift into his lupine from in an effort to stay heated. And from there, the dementors had all the food they needed.

"There is always hope, Lucas."

"Hope!" He laughed mirthlessly. "Hope is for fools, Albus, fools and dreamers. I have nothing left, no family, no friends, you are the first human I've seen in weeks."

"Well, sometimes dreamers and fools succeed. Sometimes fools' hopes can come true."

"What?" He sat straight up in his cell, staring at Dumbledore with rapt attention. "What happened?"

"You should know, Lucas. I know what your prayers have been these long nights. They have been answered."

His eyes widened in surprise. "How do you know what I've been… What are you talking about?"

Dumbledore smiled kindly and a feeling of calm passed over him. "She's not dead, Vandermine. She's alive and well, not harmed in the least."

"Does she know about… all this?" He swallowed nervously, hardly believing what he was hearing. "Does he know what happened?"

"She has no memory of what happened, I assure you."

"Will she ever know? Are you going to tell her?"

" Would you prefer I told her?" He glanced around at the cell. "It might be a bit of a shock. She did not know anything, after all, about magic before that night."

His lip trembled, torn between the desire to tell her, and the shame of what had happened. "No," he said finally. A pair of tears traced their way down his cheeks. "I do not want her to know about this. I will tell her, if I ever get out."

"When you get out." He corrected. "I doubt that the evidence against you will stand at the trial."

"No, Dumbledore, if I get out." He dropped his head and ran his scarred fingers through his dirty hair. "I know how this works, don't bother lying to me. I've been sending criminals here for years. If it's bad enough to get you in here before the trial, you won't ever be coming out."

"Still, there is hope. I am sure that I can convince the judges that you are innocent as you claim."

"That's impossible and you know it. You saw my memories. I did all of it, every last spell."

"Those memories were blurry, Lucas. It could easily have been a Memory Charm planted while you were unconscious. You know that as well as I do."

"But why can I still feel it, Albus. I can feel the surge of power, I can see them dying," his voice broke and he buried his head in his hands, tears dripping onto the floor. "I can feel her touch."

Dumbledore watched him dissapointedly. "If you are so quick to condemn yourself then, goodbye, Lucas. I will see you at your trial. I pray for the best."

He turned to the cell-door, his long beard flowing behind him like a cloak. As Dumbledore stepped over the threshold, he stood, calling out uncertainly.

"Albus, can I ask a favor of you?"

Dumbledore paused, not looking back. "Anything, Lucas."

"Promise me that you will never tell her. Promise me."

"I promise, Lucas. She will never hear it from anyone but yourself."

The door slid shut with a whisper and he found himself alone again. The walls began to chill as icy cold tendrils crept in through the crack under the door way. He almost thought he heard the dementors as they glided back to their stations. Despair fell on him like a thick blanket, but he felt a warmth seeping through his veins, chasing away the hopelessness. She was alive!

Harry was dismissed from the hospital wing the next day. His arm was stuck in a sling, but otherwise it felt good as new. He could not remember the pain that had been searing through his body the night before. If only the rest of his life healed that easily.

Ron and Hermione pointedly avoided him, acting as though he did not exist. During their classes he could get nothing out of them, not even a grunt from Ron. Their stony silence was unbearable.

Harry sat chose a seat at lunch far away from Ron and Hermione, where he tried to think of some way to heal the rift that had appeared between them. He was so deep in though that he did not hear Neville grab the seat beside him.

"How's your arm?" he asked, looking from Harry's sling to his face, which was contorted with concentration. "You look like you're in an awful amount of pain."

Letting out a sigh, he put down his fork and turned to face Neville. "It's not my shoulder. It's Ron and Hermione."

"I thought that. 'Noticed that you weren't looking too friendly during class and breakfast."

"Thanks for noticing." Neville cringed at the harshness in Harry's voice. He backed up out of the seat and started to stand up.

"Yeah, well, see you later."

"Neville wait!" Harry forced himself to take a deep breath. "I'm sorry, it's just that, with Ron and Hermione gone, I'm a little on edge right now. I didn't mean that. Will you sit back down please?"

Neville nodded and sat down again.

"Thanks. I'm sorry about that."

"It's alright. I'd be upset two if I lost two of my friends." He patted Harry on the back and looked down at the plate before him. "How'd it happen?"

"How'd what happen?"

"You, Ron and Hermione splitting up. That was the fastest breakup I've ever seen."

"It's… complicated."

"Well, we don't really have anywhere to go." He grinned slightly, hoping to lighten Harry's mood. When Harry did not return the grin, he shrugged. "Thought it was worth a shot."

Harry shook his head noncommittally. Should I really tell him? I know that I can trust him, but is it worth the risk? What if he doesn't believe me?

"It was about Vandermine." He admitted, praying that Neville would take it well.

"That's a shock. Ron and Hermione's views are polar opposites. I'm surprised that they split over it. What made them do it?"

"Do you remember that night that Hermione slapped Ron?"

"Yeah, I was there. I was wondering about that. What did Ron say?"

Harry took a deep breath, wondering whether or not to tell him the whole story. At the moment, Neville was the closest friend he had, because he was actually sitting with him. Everyone else was backing away, and Harry knew why. They all knew about him exploding on Hermione, although they did not know why, and Ron had made sure to tell them what a 'bloody idiot' he was.

"Let me start from the beginning. That afternoon I had planned on going to ask Vandermine how Hermione had made it into the Dueling Club, because she was not at the tryouts."

"Oh, yeah. She could not make it because of homework, but Dumbledore convinced Vandermine to let her in anyway. He did not need much persuading. He was impressed with her skills and agreed to let her in as soon as Dumbledore stopped talking."

"How did you know that?" Harry looked at him incredulously.

"Why, she told me, of course. I asked her about it after breakfast. She was pretty open about it."

Harry let out a little laugh. "Why didn't I think of that. I was worried about upsetting her, so I didn't ask. She's been acting strange this year, wouldn't you agree?"

"A little odd, yeah. But, of course, she is amazingly gifted. I've never seen someone as smart as she is."

"You and me both," Harry muttered under his breath.

"So, how'd the visit to his office go?"

"Oh, it um, was kind of awkward. He wasn't there when I arrived, so I just let myself in and looked around. I found a picture of his wife on his desk, and he… showed up and was angry about it. Nearly threw me out of the room."

"He can get touchy at times."

"Yeah. Anyway, I went back to the common room and told Ron and Hermione what happened. When Ron heard that the picture was of his wife, asked how hot she was."

"No way! Did he really do that?"

"Yes, he did."

"That brute." Neville made to rise out of his seat, looking around for Ron, eyes blazing. Harry grabbed his arm and pulled him back into the seat.

"Easy, Neville. I think he learned his lesson already. There's no point in getting mad about it now."

"Still," Neville shuddered angrily. "That's a nasty thing to do. Do you know how she died?"

"Burned alive." Harry winced as he said it, trying hard not to imagine what being burnt alive would feel like. Just mentioning it made his skin crawl.

"Than you know how horrible it is to make light of it."

"Yes."

"He should be glad that it was Hermione that got to him, not be." He searched the room for Ron. Spotting him at the far end of the table, he raised a fist in his direction. "I would have beaten the snot out of that-"

"Calm down, Neville. It's all in the past."

"Huh? Yeah, whatever." He exhaled loudly and shook his head. "I'm sorry, go on."

"Well, that was Ron and Hermione. While Ron was in the hospital wing recovering, Hermione showed me some newspaper clippings about Vandermine."

"Oh, those. I think he was justified in killing the Death Eaters. Those scum deserved to die for what they did."

"Yeah, well, did she show you this one?" Harry passed the article with the picture of Vandermine and Bellatrix Lestrange on it to Neville, praying that he would not take it too hard.

Neville's eyes opened wide as he read the article. His hands started shaking as he neared the bottom. When he looked up, Harry saw tears brimming in his eyes. He had taken it hard.

"Now, Neville, think before you say anything-"

"Where did you find this?" His voice sounded hoarse when he spoke.

Harry swallowed hard and shrugged. "I don't know. Hermione found it."

"It's a bunch of lies." Neville's face was turning red. Harry backed away a few inches in his seat nervously.

"It can't be, Neville. She said she checked it three times."

"That's impossible, he told me that they were best friends."

"I'm sorry, Neville, but Hermione could not find anything to prove this wrong. It's authentic."

"No. It's not true!" Neville roared. He punched Harry in the chest, knocking him off the seat. Before Harry could respond, he had jumped out of his seat and was tearing down the aisle towards the doors. Harry scrambled to his feet and took off after him. Students from all corners of the Great Hall stopped what they were doing to watch them racing across the Hall.

"Neville, wait."

Neville pushed through the doors and ran for the staircase. Harry hurried after him, bumping aside the students in his way, mumbling apologies as he struggled to keep sight of Neville's fleeing form. Neville took the stairs two at a time, moving towards what Harry knew to be Vandermine's office. His stomach churned inside him as he followed, trying to catch him before he opened the door.

"Neville, stop!"

The stairway between the fourth and fifth floor shifted as Harry reached it. Putting in a burst of speed explainable only by sheer adrenaline, he hurtled forward and leapt across the widening gap, landing in a roll that threw him into the wall. He stumbled to his feet in a daze and kept going, ignoring the disturbed protests of the paintings' inhabitants whose lunch he had interrupted. He ran pell-mell after Neville, not daring to sow down to catch his breath. Despite his best efforts though, Neville reached the room a few steps ahead of him. Harry reached the door as it slammed shut, running headlong into the hard wooden frame. He tumbled backwards onto the carpet, muttering curses under his breath and clutching his aching forehead.

He pulled himself onto his feet and approached the door slowly. He put his hand around the doorknob and, breathing deeply, pushed it open. Neville stood before Vandermine's desk, holding out the newspaper clippings. Tears were streaming down his face as he pointed to it wordlessly. Vandermine sat in his chair, with McDouglass at his side, both looking stern and frowning.

"Is it true?" Neville demanded, crying unashamedly before them. "This says you were responsible for the attack on my parents. This says you did it!" He sobbed hard and buried his head in his arms. Vandermine swallowed and watched Neville unflinchingly. It was a long time before he spoke.

"The first thing that I need you to understand is that I never intended for that to happen."

"So you did do it!" Neville raised his head from his arms, glaring at Vandermine. "You told me that they were your friends! You gave me my mom's necklace! You said you loved them!" He launched himself barehanded at Vandermine, half-blinded by tears. "You liar!"

Vandermine pushed off from his desk and caught Neville in midair, spinning him around and putting him in a headlock. Vandermine held him still, not putting any pressure on him but not giving him enough room to move his head. Neville sobbed uncontrollably, struggling to break free of his grip.

"They trusted you!" he shouted.

"Neville, listen to me!" Vandermine tried to keep his voice calm, but Harry could hear that it was tense. "It didn't happen that way."

"You gave them up! You betrayed them, your best friends!"

"Neville!" Neville bit at his hand causing Vandermine to let him go. Neville turned to face Vandermine, fumbling for his wand, but Vandermine disarmed him with a flick of his wand. Vandermine waved his wand again and Neville was pushed back into a seat, where he sat frozen, eyes wide in terror. Harry could stand it no longer. He rushed into the room, drawing his wand and aiming it at Vandermine, who hadn't noticed him enter.

"Expellia-"

A streak of light blinded Harry and he was thrown backwards into a bookcase. As he slid to the floor, a pair of strong arms grabbed him gently and carried him over to Vandermine's desk, where he was dumped unceremoniously into the chair beside Neville, who looked over at him with a look of sheer terror. His face was white and sweat was pouring down his face.

Vandermine looked from Harry to Neville and sighed. He looked over at McDouglass and nodded.

"You can leave, Judder." Judder saluted and hurried out the door, pausing only to give Neville a reassuring pat on the back as he left. Once the door had shut, Vandermine looked back at the boys, a pained expression on his face. He pointed to the paper and faced Harry. "Did you show him this?"

Harry nodded mutely. He did not know what else to do. Seeing his answer, Vandermine rested his face on his fist, eyeing him carefully.

"How many others know about this?"

"Just… just Hermione."

Vandermine huffed and nodded knowingly. "That figures. She's got a knack for reading stuff that she shouldn't, just like her mother." He whispered the last part so quietly that Harry barely heard him. Harry looked at him curiously but Vandermine brushed over it.

"This paper said that I was the one responsible for the torture of Neville's parents, among other things." He looked squarely at Harry, and Harry noticed a hint of resentment in his eyes. "I would give almost anything to say that it is a lie, but it's not."

Harry heard Neville moan beside him. A chill crawled up his spine as Vandermine rose, walking around the desk and taking a seat on the edge of it, within striking distance.

"This is something that I have told few people; less than ten." He took a deep breath to clear his mind.

"It is my fault that your parents were captured," He faced Neville and lowered his head. "But it was because I neglected my duty, not because I gave them over to the her." His eyes flicked briefly over to Harry as he spoke.

"It happened two weeks after my wife was murdered." His voice cracked as he spoke and Harry thought he saw his eyes water, but Vandermine wiped his eyes with the back of his hand, catching them before they left his eyes. "I was still grieving her death and it was my turn to go out on a patrol. Frank and Alice… took my place… they didn't tell me until they were heading out. I thanked them, because they were giving me more time to mourn my wife." A strangled sob escaped his lips and his hand flew to his throat. He sat quietly for a moment. "I found out the next day that they had been caught in a trap and tortured."

His chest heaved a little and he cleared his throat. Harry felt sorry for him. It seemed that he was not the only one who knew what great loss was like.

"I was overcome after that. I did not know what to do… so I ran. I ran to the last person that I was close to."

"Bellatrix Lestrange?" Harry sneered despite the pity he felt for Vandermine.

"I made a mistake." Vandermine shook his head, staring at his boots. "I knew Bellatrix before Voldemort came to power." Neville moaned again at the mention of his name. "She and I had been friends." He scoffed as he said this. His eyes were blurry from the tears that were gathering there. "I knew that she believed in the whole 'pureblood' idea, but I convinced myself that she never could have actually joined him. I thought I knew her well enough. Her husband was, I knew that. I was the one that killed him in a raid."

"But you thought that she wasn't involved. That doesn't sound very convincing."

"I know, and I still can't see how she deceived me. She promised me, during and after his fall, that she had never joined him. I was foolish enough to believe her."

"Then what happened when the Aurors arrived at her house?"

"That…" Vandermine shook his head. "I don't know. I know that they announced that she was the one that had tortured Frank and Alice, that she was the one who had," his voice broke and the tears began to flow freely down his face. "She was the one who sent him after my wife!" he raised his hands to his face and buried his head in them. "The next thing I knew I woke up in her house. It was deserted, but all of the Aurors were dead." He looked up at Harry and Neville, his eyes meeting theirs pleadingly.

"Three of them had been my students. The reporter wasn't even twenty yet. I know that I didn't kill them, but my wand had fired the spells. I didn't know what to do. I stayed there, waiting for the Ministry team to arrive and pick them up. They took me to Azkaban for it, threw me into solitary in the lowest levels, where things worse than dementors guarded us."

He broke off from his story and moved closer to Neville. Neville watched him with wide eyes as Vandermine knelt before him, taking Neville's hand in his own.

"If I could change time, I would gladly go back and take that patrol. Not a day goes by that I'm not tormented by what she did, what I did. I know that I don't deserve it, but I ask your forgiveness, Neville. I am sorry for what happened to your parents. Will you forgive me?"

Neville stared at him, lost for words. Vandermine locked eyes with him, trembling slightly. Slowly, almost imperceptively, Neville shook his head. Vandermine lowered his head and backed off, staring sorrowfully at the floor.

"I understand. I deserve to rot in hell for that. You may go."

Harry rose from his seat, feeling numb. His hands shook as he picked up his wand which was still lying on the floor from when he had been disarmed. He moved mechanically towards the door.

"Is all that true?" Neville's voice broke the stillness that had settled on the room. Harry turned to look back. Neville was standing, facing Vandermine, who was sitting in his chair with his face in his hand.

"Every word of it." Vandermine nodded as he spoke, as if it would increase the sincerity of his words. "I swear it on my wife's grave."

Neville walked towards him slowly, raising his arm and placing it hesitantly on Vandermine's shoulder. He paused, unsure of what to say.

"I… my parents would have wanted me to forgive you. They would have understood."

Vandermine looked up at Neville, fresh tears gleaming on his face as he laughed sorrowfully.

"They were great people, Frank and Alice. I wish they were still here with us."

"I do too." Neville's voice was quiet, subdued as he spoke. "And I forgive you."

Vandermine rose from his seat, a half-smile appearing on his face as he faced Neville.

"Thank you, Neville." He held out an arm and hugged Neville around his shoulder."

"Any…anytime." Neville hugged him back awkwardly, and Harry took a step backwards out of their sight.

"Will you still accept me as your godfather?" Harry froze, his eyes opening wide.

"Yes, Vandermine. My parents trusted you, and so do I. Thank you for telling me the truth."

Harry turned and left the room before he could hear more. Best to leave them alone.