Word Count: 2,096
Written For:
- Hogwarts Open Day: Care of Magical Creatures - Unicorns (Write about anything you like.)
- Stripes Are The New Black Challenge
- Potions Class Challenge/Competition: Dreamless Sleep Potion - Write about a sleepless night.
- Gringotts Prompt Bank: Orange Is The New Black Quotes - (dialogue) "Did he force you?" / "Well, I'm not gonna lie. I mean, I could've used a bit of a warm-up. Doesn't really feel any good when you're not ready." / "You know there's a word for that, right?" / "No, it's not his fault. I was the one. I was flirting too much, I was smiling, and I was really confusing.

Many thanks to Sable Supernova for beta-ing :)

Prison Witches

I

The Reformation of the Fortress

After the fall of Lord Voldemort, Azkaban underwent a lot of changed a lot. Not everyone agreed with the new humane angle, but Kingsley Shacklebolt had the final decision, and he vowed that the prisoners would be treated as the human beings they still were, regardless of their crimes.

The first thing he did was get rid of the Dementors that infested the place. Hundreds, even thousands, of the foul creatures skulked down the hallways. Appropriate changes could never be made with them sucking the happiness from every corner of the prison, Kingsley knew. Kingsley wanted to give the prisoners an opportunity to reform themselves—he knew that not everyone would change, but that choice lay with the inmates. Kingsley was adamant that all prisoners were given the chance and the opportunity to start again in Azkaban; that the choice wasn't taken away from them like it always had been before."

In place of the Dementors, wizards and witches were trained up as prison guards. They would be in charge of making sure that the prisoners were kept fed, exercised and clean.

Kingsley's second motive was to give the prisoners a purpose while they were incarcerated. He visited Azkaban himself and took notice of the repairs that desperately needed work doing, as well as various other internal problems. Of course, it would have been all too easy for the Ministry to solve the repairs magically—but Kingsley saw a mine of opportunity. He enlisted the help of his friend and Muggle enthusiast, Arthur Weasley, to make suggestions on how the repairs could be made—without magic.

Arthur had many suggestions. The prisoners would have clean running water and the use of proper toilets through a plumbing network that would run within the thick walls of the fortress, to replace the humiliating holes in the ground they'd grown used to using. He mapped out a plan to install giant solar panels around the island, giving the prison electricity. Powered fluorescent lights would then replace the dim candles; warm food would take the place of the gruel. It was dangerous for prison guards to carry their wands—prisoners could snatch them far too easily. Instead, guards would make use of Muggle technology.

Naturally, not everyone in the wizarding community was happy with this decision but Kingsley made sure to make the wage of a prison guard worth their while.

His next move was to develop some kind of routine within the hospital. After much deliberation, he decided to have the burial ground dug up, and all of the bodies cremated at sea. He didn't think it was appropriate for the prisoners to be constantly reminded of the old Azkaban, or that they would be likely to end up on that burial ground themselves one day. Instead, he insisted that should a prisoner die in Azkaban, their body would be returned to their family.

Without the burial ground, Kingsley was left with a large empty space to work with. He laid concrete and a giant, electric-wire tipped fence, and created a huge exercise space. They painted a circular track on the ground so that the prisoners could run or walk, and the yard was connected to the prison by a tunnel.

The cells had been used to harbour the worst kinds of prisoners, and had absolutely no light source whatsoever. Below the prison had previously been a network of horrific cells; instead of Dementors in this part of the fort, Kingsley's men found a nest of Lethifolds, creatures much more horrific than Dementors. After a month of trying to get through the underground, which took so long because the Lethifolds kept multiplying, they finally managed to clear the underground of the despicable creatures.

Kingsley decided that the large underground area left after clearing the debris could be made into a cafeteria. Bright tiled lights were fitted across the ceilings and walls, completely engulfing the basement in light, and they fitted a kitchen along one wall. It was Arthur's idea to enlist his wife as the head cook of the kitchen for a few weeks, during which she would train up a small group of prisoners to lead the kitchen themselves.

Three sections made up the majority of the prison. The maximum security unit lay in the original fortress, in the middle. All prisoners, regardless of gender, whose actions had been most heinous, were tightly locked in small cells. Even these prisoners would be allowed the use of the yard for exercise, and had jobs to carry out, but they would have to return to the high security cells everyday, alone.

Either side of the fort now stood two new wings, one for men and one for women. The rules were a little more lax here—Kingsley suggested that there would be three prisoners to each cell, to give the prisoners more of an opportunity to socialise and be reminded of their humanity. These prisoners would be allowed to visit the cafeteria and would be given jobs to do, and they would also have access to the yard whenever they liked. They were low-security prisoners, so they had a lot more freedom than the maximum security ones.

The development of Azkaban was a whole new chapter for the wizarding world, and Kingsley had nothing but high hopes for the future of the prison.

II

Cooks That Kill

"I just don't know why I have to switch jobs," groaned forty year old Naomi Zabini as she lay on the top bunk of her bed. She was sharing her cell with forty-three year old Narcissa Malfoy, and forty-five year old Alecto Carrow. "I did a much better job when I worked out in the yard—in fact, I did better than those new hussies that Bletchley has put out there."

"You're not allowed to work in the yard any more because you would not stop flirting with Bletchley," snarled Narcissa, referencing the prison guard who was always stationed in the exercise yard.

Naomi rolled her eyes. "Cissy, flirting is the only thing that has gotten me through life. I didn't become astonishingly rich and able to give my son a fantastic life without flirting."

"You got rich because you murdered seven of your husbands!" Alecto pointed out. She was standing in front of the mirror, scraping her hair back into a ponytail, staring at her sickly pale complexion. She was a wide-set woman, and the striped jumpsuit didn't suit her as well as it did her thinner companions—something that was always at the back of her mind.

Naomi smirked. "I wasn't convicted of murdering them, actually. I was convicted of harbouring information regarding their suspicious deaths."

"You killed them and everyone knows it," Narcissa replied. "Anyway, stop your chattering. You're going to be working with Alecto and I in the kitchen from today, and no-one wants to watch you spouting your mouth over the chicken stew."

Before Naomi could reply, a loud bell screeched behind the caged door, signalling that they were to leave their cells. The lock clicked, and the door swung open. Narcissa led the way out of the cell, following the trail of other women through the cell block. They forked off to head into the kitchen in the basement below, ready to prepare breakfast for the rest of the prison.

Narcissa had reluctantly become head of the kitchen, despite initially wanting nothing to do with Molly Weasley, who had taken on the role of training up a successor. It had initially burnt her pride, to have to look at Molly in an authoritative light, but she'd quickly gotten over it when she realised what other jobs there were on offer. Mucking out the toilets wasn't really a better choice.

Plus, being trained by Molly only lasted about two weeks. Despite what many people believed, Narcissa had actually enjoyed working in her kitchen back in the Malfoy Manor, and she wasn't the worst cook in the world.

"How many weeks did you say you had left, Cissy?" Alecto asked as the three convict pulled on their mandatory rubber gloves.

"Four, and then I have to go to another Hearing," Narcissa replied in a bored tone. "It depends on what they say then. They could let me go, or they could give me an extended sentence." Since the reformation of Azkaban, it had seemed only too easy for the Ministry to convict as many people who had been involved with Lord Voldemort. The Ministry had originally looked over the Malfoys, and Narcissa had hoped her family would be spared the punishment that they were owed.

But luck hadn't been on their side. First, the Ministry called Lucius Malfoy in for a Hearing. He was given a custodial sentence of four years. To Narcissa's horror, Draco had then been called in too—but the Ministry took pity on him. Narcissa had volunteered to serve the short punishment for her son, and so she had been sentenced to a minimum of a year in Azkaban.

Her good behaviour had shortened her sentence to four months, and she was currently on the third. She was desperately hoping that luck was on her side.

"What about you?" Narcissa asked Alecto.

"Fifteen years," Alecto murmured, heading over to the refrigerator and pulling out a large jug of milk. "Two sentences."

Narcissa pressed her lips together, and chose not to reply. Whilst she hadn't ever actually killed anyone, Alecto had taken part in abusing Hogwarts students by means of the Cruciatus Curse for twelve months, and that kind of act didn't go down quietly. Whilst it didn't look like Alecto would be getting out any time soon, Narcissa had hopes that she was planning on reforming. There were groups being ran by Mind Healers during the free time, and Alecto had been attending them quite frequently.

Alecto took the jug of milk towards a large pot of oatmeal, and poured at least half of the contents into the oats, while Narcissa stirred it into a paste. Over by the counter, Naomi was leaning up against the tiled wall, simpering as she spoke to Bletchley in an inaudible tone.

III

Addiction to the Euphoria

Naomi sighed, peering through the tiny barred window of the cell. The sun was only just beginning to rise, and she had barely slept at all. It was unfortunate that no one, not even the prison guards, were permitted to use magic on the island, or she could have requested a vial of Dreamless Sleep.

She had got into her cell late last night. Bletchley had made her an offer she couldn't refuse, and the result was in the palm of her hand. She opened her fingers, taking a look at the tiny plastic bag, which was full of a sandy coloured powder. She closed her eyes and bit her bottom lip.

Some might have called it the easy way out to deal with her problems, but Naomi didn't agree. Choosing to turn to heroin hadn't been an easy decision to make, and it definitely wasn't easy to live with such a horrible addiction. Luckily, no-one—except now, Bletchley, knew of it.

She heard Narcissa yawning in the bunk below and quickly stuffed the bag down the front of her bra. "I know what you're doing," came Narcissa's honey-smooth voice, and Naomi froze.

"What?"

"You spent all day in the kitchen yesterday flirting with Bletchley and whispering to him. I've seen the bruises on your legs. You've had him bringing you junk in, haven't you?"

"Shut up," hissed Naomi, looking over to the bed on the other side of the wall. Alecto was snoring loudly, apparently unfazed by the conversation going on right beside her.

"What did you do to get it?"

"Oh, you know."

There was a long silence before Narcissa spoke again. "Did he force you?" she asked quietly.

Naomi squirmed. "Well I'm not going to lie. I mean, I could've used a bit of a warm up. It doesn't feel any good when you're not ready."

"You know there's a word for that, right?" Narcissa snapped.

"No!" Naomi suddenly shouted. "It's not his fault, okay? It's mine. I was flirting too much. I was smiling. I was really confusing."

Naomi could practically hear Narcissa pursing her lips below, but she didn't say anything.

The prison might have had a complete reform, and Kingsley Shacklebolt might have done the best he could to try and give the prisoners a more humane chance of retribution, but some things would never change.