No More Dark Places
Team: Wasps
Position: Keeper
Prompt: Write about a place where the worst criminals are imprisoned.
Word count: 1624
Thanks to my lovely teammates savedprincess85 and Queen Bookworm the First for beta'ing!
"It's inhumane," said Hermione, struggling to keep up with Kingsley's long strides.
"What would you have me do?" he asked, so preoccupied that he failed to notice that he was outpacing her.
The Ministry of Magic was in full renovation. It had been ever since the end of the war, but a lack of funds had ground the process to a halt shortly after it had begun. Six years later, they finally had enough to get it finished. Unfortunately, a venture of this magnitude meant an increase in workers cluttering the halls, as well as a tidal wave of paperwork amassing on the Minister's desk what with so many employment contracts and planning permits that needed to be written, read and signed. Kingsley was busier now than he had been in the months following the final battle when chaos had reigned supreme, and the workload was beginning to take its toll.
The building didn't necessarily need renovating. Sure it was a little outdated, but what in the wizarding world wasn't? The project was meant to be symbolic: a new Ministry, different from the one that had been controlled by Voldemort, a clean slate after the horrors of the war.
Hermione didn't see the point. A new coat of paint and a few murals wasn't going to erase what had happened. Nothing would. The Ministry's only hope of regaining the people's trust was to show them that they could do better. To do that, they had to be proactive.
"I would have you remove the Dementors from Azkaban," she said. She'd had to speed up to a jog to keep up, but that suggestion was enough to make Kingsley stop in his tracks, his meeting with the Department Heads forgotten.
"Come again?" he said, clearly hoping he'd misheard.
Hermione straightened her robes as she caught her breath and sorted out her thoughts. She'd had this idea a while back but had waited until it was fully fleshed out before bringing it up, knowing full well that it would be met with resistance.
"I think that Dementors are foul, loathsome creatures, and the Ministry shouldn't be affiliated with them."
With the way Kingsley was gawping at her, you'd have thought she'd lost her mind. Ron had certainly thought so when she'd brought the idea up a couple of months ago. He'd struggled to understand why she would want to remove the Dementors from the place they'd occupied for centuries. Despite explaining her reasoning at length, she was sure that he still didn't fully understand it. He'd given her his support, though. He always did, at the end of the day.
She couldn't blame him for not grasping the significance of this idea, not really. Change was seldom easy for anyone, but the magical community abhorred it more than most. It was a society that was stuck in a rut and wouldn't evolve without a firm shove. Hermione was more than willing to be the one doing the pushing.
This was the right thing to do; she'd known it from the minute she'd first thought of it, and it had been further confirmed when she'd mentioned it to Harry.
Harry had felt the full effect of the Dementors' cold touch. He'd seen what long-term exposure to them did to a person, and he knew that there were few things in creation worse than those monsters. He'd understood precisely why this was important, perhaps even more so than Hermione herself. She was doing this for him, and for Sirius, and every other poor soul forced to endure those creatures' presence.
"Dementors have been guarding Azkaban since its creation," said Kingsley, finally falling out of his stupor. "They inhabited that island long before the prison was even an idea, and you want to remove them from it?"
"Either that or we could build a new prison and transfer all of the inmates there, leaving the Dementors behind and trapping them on the island."
That option was actually preferable, but she'd seen how difficult funds were to come by and how lengthy a process construction could be. If a simple renovation took over six years, how long would it take to build a high-security prison capable of holding the worst criminals that the wizarding community had to offer?
Azkaban's prisoners had suffered enough. The sooner they were removed from the Dementors' presence, the better.
Kingsley was still looking at her like she was out of her mind. "You said this would help with our public image. How is wasting money and resources on Death Eaters going to make people happy?"
"Dementors are a force of evil. They fought on Voldemort's side because he promised them free range. They do the Ministry's bidding because we feed them. They aren't loyal, and they aren't good. All they care about is hurting people, and we shouldn't be enabling that."
He sighed deeply and pinched the bridge of his nose. There were lines etched into his face that hadn't been there six years ago, and grey hairs streaked his dark eyebrows. He'd been such a strong and vibrant man during the war, but a career in politics had stolen that from him. Now he just looked tired and worn, waiting for the next disaster to arise in the minefield that was peacemaking with nothing more than a weary sigh.
"Do you remember the protests after the war? The people calling for all of You-Know-Who's followers' heads? Do you remember the mob we had outside the Ministry's doors when we held the Death Eater trials?" he asked. "Those people weren't calling for the removal of the Dementors. They were crying out for blood. We're lucky they didn't break in and kill everyone bearing a Dark Mark."
She remembered all too well. It had taken the Ministry over a year to prepare for the trials of Voldemort's inner circle. Hermione had only just started working in the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, not yet a part of the Magical Law Enforcement division. Coming to work every day and seeing that mob gathered in the Atrium had been the scariest thing she'd seen since the final battle. The people had been angry and upset. The loss of loved ones had made them think irrationally, preferring to seek out vengeance rather than justice.
But things were different now. They had to be.
"We have to be better than we used to be," she said earnestly. "We can't keep making the same mistakes and hoping they give different results. The Dementors have turned on us before, and they'll do it again. They're hurting people, and we're letting them."
"They're hurting criminals."
"They're still people. It doesn't matter what they've done—no one deserves that."
She'd visited Azkaban last month with Harry to get a proper feel for the place, and even though the Dementors had stayed well away, she hadn't slept for days after. The despair and insanity that the Dementors caused were horrifying. Most of the prisoners couldn't form a single coherent thought, but those who still could, begged for death, praying for a quick release from the soul-destroying misery that those creatures wrought. The unnatural cold that settled wherever Dementors were present had seeped deep into her bones, and sometimes she still felt it squeezing at her heart. She didn't want to begin imagining what it must be like to be trapped there with no hope of escape, not even being able to dream of freedom without the Dementors swooping in to steal whatever happy thought she could come up with to make the whole ordeal bearable. She could think of no worse hell.
"I agree." The deep timbre of Kingsley's voice softened, losing the strain of stress. "I apologise for being so difficult. It seems that everyone is unhappy about something, and I'm not keen to create any more friction, but you're right. Dementors aren't creatures that we should be affiliated with."
"Shall I make the arrangements?" She already had a lot on her plate, but Kingsley had more, and she knew that the best way to get this done right was to do it herself.
There would be a backlash; she knew that. People would fear a mainland invasion if the Dementors lost their food source. But with the right security measures, they could be easily contained. And although they may never die out, they would be significantly weakened with no souls to feed on. Despite what many may think, despite the opposition she may face, this was for the best.
Wizardkind had to evolve; there was no question about it. They had to learn to accept and even embrace change if they ever wanted to create a better society.
The value of any community was judged based on how they treated their most vulnerable members. By locking their convicts up in arguably the most inhumane prison on the planet and employing guards that bred decay and despair, the wizarding community proved that it was far less advanced than it claimed to be.
Hermione knew that improvement wouldn't come easily. It would be a never-ending upward battle because there was no such thing as perfect, only better, but she was willing to make the betterment of the wizarding world her life's work.
"That would be good, yes," said Kingsley, and for the first time in months, he smiled. "I swear, you're better at leading a country than I am. I don't suppose you want to swap jobs?"
She scoffed at the thought, unwilling to dignify that comment with an answer, and Kingsley's booming laugh startled a few nearby workers. But it wouldn't be long before the idea took hold in both their minds and sooner or later, they would turn it into a reality.