Disclaimer: Hogwarts etc belongs to JKR
AN: This is completely different to everything else I've written, and I feel compelled to upload it simply for that.
Daily Prophet – March 23rd
Community Work To Be Given a Dangerous New Twist?
Rehab has recently taken a surprising new line of action as twenty-two year old veteran, Hermione Granger, takes control, writes Rita Skeeter.
I have just had the pleasure of meeting with Ms Granger, long-term friend of one Mr Harry Potter, in a small coffee shop in muggle London. The room is airy with a faint smell of coffee beans and the young witch looks quite at home in her comfortable leather armchair. And indeed, what better place to talk about the radical new changes our Ministry is undergoing?
It has been three years since the end of the war and as you well know, Ms Granger and her friends were among the first to bring about talks of the future of the current inhabitants of Azkaban. "Not all of them are guilty enough to merit their place there," she tells me, face earnest and her eyes shining with that famed righteous passion of hers. Some of you will have heard of Ms Granger's past attempts at promoting house elf rights, and will be aware that she is no stranger to fighting for those who want (and deserve?) nothing of her help.
She tells me that the new program, though largely designed by herself, has been checked and backed completely by Harry Potter himself, so we may rest easy that the changes will not allow dangerous Death Eaters to run about resurrecting Dark Lords as and when they please. The program is designed to gradually reintroduce offenders into society through a variety of 'alternative' routes. One example given to me was experiencing life as a muggle for a year or so, before being re-introduced to magic. At this stage wizards will be returned their wands and will attend training classed until they are at a standard to resit their NEWTs,
A number of inmates are offered the chance to choose their 'path back to society' from a list of minority groups that they terrorised in their previous life, and after sitting a theory exam and a number of psychological tests they are released into a controlled environment where they live out a period of time ranging from a week to a year as, for example, a muggle, a troll, a house elf or a goblin. 'Living as the enemy' so to speak, until they no longer consider them 'enemies'.
Ms Granger believes that this experience will allow the prisoners to change their attitude and she has high hopes for this new brand of community work.
For information about applying for a job as rehabilitation supervisor you are asked to owl the Department of Wizarding (and non-wizarding) Rights, RE: Rehab Officers. (Persons with previous auror/Order experience preferred).
For further discussion on the pros and cons of having murder-convicts washing our dishes stay tuned to tomorrow's Prophet, and for any additional information about your own safety in relation to the launch of this program please owl the Ministry of Magic Enquiries Desk, RE: Community Work – should I be afraid?
-
Draco looked down at his completed application form.
They'd all been given a brief lecture on the new rehab opportunity and though the prospect of living as either a house elf did not really appeal to him, it had to be an improvement to this. He frowned vaguely at the grey walls lining his cell.
Physically Azkaban was about as bad as prisons got, damp, dark and more often than not, cold. The waves beat monotonously against the walls outside and light always seemed reluctant to enter the small barred window which sat six feet over his head. But that was not all. Psychologically the effects of any length of sentence here was difficult to describe. He could feel himself going insane. Happy thoughts were sucked away by dementors like dust near a cleaning charm, but it was the other thoughts that bothered him. The logical ones. The only things that really anchored him as him, and the way they just…drifted. Like they had somewhere better to be. It was like feeling your personality or your eye colour or… the core of your mind, just leak out of your left ear. It was a permanent headache, it made his nightmares worse, and quite honestly, it was worrying him.
His father may have survived Azkaban, but since the escape of Sirius Black and then the mass breakout of the Death Eaters the dementors and Ministry combined had developed new weapons, and Draco had a feeling if he stayed here much longer he wouldn't remain Draco.
And that was the reason for the form.
A few months as a house elf? After everything he'd been through? It was going to be easy. One could even consider it a well-earned rest.
-
Form type 12: High Security Prisoner
Name: Draco Malfoy
Cell number: 528
Sentence: Life
Crime: Death Eater activities.
Rehabilitation in which area, Muggle or House Elf? House Elf.
Reason for above choice: Magic, some minor level of intelligence, grasp of concept of civilised society (if second hand), sanitary living conditions.
Why should you be selected for rehabilitation? I am young with a full life ahead of me to contribute to our growing wizard economy. The reactivation of my family's fortune would be enough to pull wizarding Britain out of its current droop in of wealth and I have a great many skills which could aid the Ministry in their attempts at rebuilding the community destroyed in the war. I am intelligent and willing to learn and will be a great asset to whoever employs me. I can be considerate and caring when it is called for and I would donate a large sum of money to St Mungo's for the help they have given my mother in the stress of mine and my father's absence.
-
A day passed. More forms were filled in. More forms were collected. The collected forms were tied in a bundle. The bundle was given to an owl. The owl flew across the raging North Sea, over Scotland and through England, until it landed in a flurry of fleeing feathery bodies on Nelson's Column, Trafalgar Square. The pigeons squawked and fluttered but the owl simply took off again, arriving at the post chute of the Ministry of Magic some time after midnight.
From here the forms were passed from elf to elf, shuffled through and retied when one was dropped, passed from trolley to trolley and eventually to a nice witch with a scruffy grey bun who levitated them to a final resting place on a crowded (though never cluttered) pine wood desk.
And now, sometime past sunrise, Hermione Granger sat seven hundred miles south of Azkaban prison, dressed smartly in brown office robes and clinging to a mug of coffee like a lifeline.
Her desk lay before her, piled high with a miniature city of parchments, memos and muggle post-it notes. Some were official, some from friends and some just to remind her to step back, look at the bigger picture, consider her health and go home to rest once in a while.
A pink post-it stuck to her inkpot started to glow. It read:
Calm down, take a deep breath and remember that things will get done without you bleeding for them. – Harry :)
She wasn't sure what charm he'd used for it but whenever she got particularly hysterical or nervous it would start glowing. And it never failed to make her smile, even if she tended not to heed to its advice.
Hermione looked at the largest and most official looking bundle on her desk, yellowed parchment tied with the traditional black ribbon of Azkaban. It had arrived sometime during the night. She could practically hear her heart racing.
This was the most hopeful plan she had yet, killing three or four birds with one stone. If it was successful it would empty a good number of cells in Azkaban, reducing the number of dementors they needed to employ and control, give mindless criminals and eventually the brainwashed slaves of Voldemort a second (or third) chance at life in the big wide world and at the same time, build respect and understanding for species traditionally victimised by the wizarding race.
It was perfect.
But also highly experimental… She'd begged Harry long and hard to get him to put a good word in for her with the panel of wizards that governed Magical Britain, and now she had the Minister's official agreement her mind was reeling with the implications of everything that could go wrong.
Retired aurors were signing up in their droves to supervise the applicants and it was beginning to occur to her that though they were experienced to handle any situation if things went awry, they would also have somewhat of a grudge against the Death Eaters who killed so many of their friends. She sighed. She would have to do many of the regular check-ups necessary herself, especially among the higher profile cases, and that would mean yet more parchmentwork, as if she wasn't drowning in beaurocracy as it was…
Sitting up straight as though bracing herself for a mental blow she pulled the bundle of application forms towards her.
And then she swore.
Right on the very top of the pile was Draco Malfoy.
-
"Where the hell am I meant to get a company willing to have him work as a house elf for them?"
"Mrhmphle."
"Ron! Take your hand away from your mouth and stop laughing! This is not funny!"
"Draco Malfoy. Bouncing Slytherin ferret. Death Eater. Phfmple. House Elf? HA!"
"Ron!"
"What kinda stuff did you have in mind for them to do, anyway?"
"You know… Cleaning kitchens, painting fences… the easy stuff house elves do. They'll be bound by magical contract too so even if they wanted to hurt anyone they'd be unable to."
"What… you're going to have Malfoy bang his head against the wall every time he has a bad thought about anyone he works for? Could I give him to my mum? She's always wanted a house elf… and he'd be concussed or something after a day!"
"Ron, This is serious."
"Hermione. This is funny."
"Hmph."
"What about Fred and George! They've got a business and they're always moaning about cleaning charms going wrong!"
"No! No Weasleys!"
"You're so mean."
"What am I going to do!"
"I thought you had all the contacts lined up already, wasn't that one of the conditions Harry gave you? Willing participants?"
"Yeah."
"Well then, what's the problem, are any of them backing out?"
"Well, no…"
"So what's wrong?"
"I'd just feel mean! Malfoy has no concept of the amount of work elves have to do. He's taken them for granted all his life. Would you really want to be there to witness the moment when it sinks in, exactly how much menial work he's signed himself up to?"
"Honestly? Yes."
"Well, not within striking distance you don't."
"…"
"Please stop laughing. This is going to end up such a mess! I didn't think any of the real Death Eaters would sign up on the trial run. I thought it would just be petty thieves that'd only need to do a week or something."
"Petty thieves don't go to Azkaban, you know that."
"Well, arson or something. But he's a murderer and he knows the Dark Arts and he's got the bloody Mark!"
"You designed it with Death Eaters in mind."
"Yes… but. Malfoy? As a house elf? Have you any concept of the parchmentwork he's going to create for me! And the contract charms are wired too tight for someone as bitter as him! What if he ends up killing himself because he's not allowed to mouth off about his supervisors or employers? This is going to be a total failure!"
"…Erm… Do you want me to get Harry?… Or Ginny?… Oh. You don't need to cry. Erm... It's gonna be okay?…"
"Shut up, Ron! You should have made me listen to Harry in the first place!"
AN: I'm toeing the water with this one. Your thoughts?