Death to Freedom, Birth to Hell


Author's Notes: So sorry for the lack of an update recently. It's been SO INCREDIBLY busy at my college – I received the Academic Hall of Fame award (along with a few other awards for English/Literature/Art) and have been working full time on the side. I apologize for how long it's taken me to update. I should've had time during Spring Break, but I worked all Spring Break and wrote over 15 essays for scholarships during it. What can I say? I'm poor, I need money to go to college and I am grateful for any job opportunity that comes my way. That and I'm working on a book which I hope will turn out the way I want…so far, it's decent, but I could really use a professional proofreader. I probably won't get one, so that's fine, but I'd like one. Also, I have created a new account on where I plan to publish short online fiction pieces. The name is DKHouglum on there. I haven't uploaded anything on there yet, but if all goes well, I should have something submitted before August.


Summary: The Golden Trio never finished their 7th year at Hogwarts. They are called back to school to graduate to help them attain their desired careers, but a new Minister for Magic creates problems for them. MarriageLaw, Non-Slash, MPREG.


Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. JK Rowling and Warner Brothers does…sadly.


August 20th, 1998 -

The next day was gloomier than Hermione had anticipated, but she was excited nonetheless. She was so excited she could barely sleep and launched out of bed by four, a full four hours before they were to head out, made breakfast without Mrs. Weasley's help and later woke Ron, Harry, the twins, and the rest of the Weasleys.

Ron was the grumpiest…as usual. "Do we have to do this? I mean, don't you think the politicians themselves will fight it? I'm sure that they'd do a better job at it than us…and our pathetic Amend the Amendment signs…" Ron said bitterly, glaring at the magic red paint on the wide poster board.

"Ron, if we don't do something, we run the risk of losing our rights, our free-will…we lose the right that allows us to choose who to marry. We can't always rely on the Wizengamot's politicians to fight for us. We need to do everything in our power to change this, or else it may not change and we'll be forced into a marriage set up by the government. Do you realize how horrible that will be, Ron? It's like designating fate as the national government and everything we do is pre-determined by the government. Freewill will be knocked out of society and we'll be doomed to live a life without control. I couldn't stand that…could you, Ron?"

Ron grumbled something about it being too early and left the table, probably going to brush his rancid morning breath out of his mouth or at least that's what Hermione hoped he was going to do. Perhaps it would put him in a better mood. The twins seemed to be in good spirits, though. They said hello to Hermione and showed her their signs. Fred and George, the wild geniuses they were, created signs that sparkled and changed words every few minutes. "It doesn't spray sparks everywhere or cause fireworks to go off by a trigger, does it?" Hermione asked, suddenly wary.

"Don't worry about anything like that, Hermione. We promise they won't do anything outrageous," said Fred. "Yeah, they won't do any of the things of you've mentioned, we promise," said George. "You're sure?" Hermione asked. "Of course we are. Right, Fred?" "Right, George." They patted each other on the back and Hermione rolled her eyes. Twins, she thought.

8 o' clock finally rolled around and everyone was ready to go to the Ministry for the protest. It wasn't something anyone particularly looked forward to-on your feet for hours, waving signs, and giving angry looks to passersby were just a few of the reasons nobody enjoyed the whole protest experience. They all marched into the Weasley living room and began their walk into the green fire.

The walk into the Ministry's lobby was a somber one. Each person floo'ed individually into the grand dark green-marbled entrance and walked towards the front desk, signs raised high above their heads. "H-hey!" shrieked the wizard and witch duo at the front. "Y-you can't do that!" the witch stammered.

"Of course we can," said Fred, his flashing sign raised high above head, leaning forward, and a hand on his hip, smirking at the witch at the desk. George came forward and repeated the same action, making the witch do a double take. It seemed as if they were teasing her. "It's our right to peacefully protest, right? Especially over something as unfair as this."

The witch had trouble forming words and instead muttered something along the lines of, "If I see any of you try anything…" The protest started to gain a crowd of angry witches and wizards within the hour, all of them coming forth to protest with them about this predicament. When a good chunk of them realized that it was Harry Potter who was with the original protesting group, an even larger crowd gathered around the entrance. Some stared, others were smiling, some joined the protesters, and that was when calamity struck.

Just because it is supposed to be a silent protest doesn't mean it will end up that way. A few rabble-rousers came to the "rescue" of the protesters and began their angry tirades on the Ministry. "They can't do that!" hissed Hermione at Harry, using both hands to clutch her sign. "Well, we can't just stop them! They're doing the right thing! Who wouldn't want to yell about this—it's the worst bill they've ever passed to date. Not even the stingiest of Purebloods would agree to this sort of thing!" Harry hissed back, his eyes flashing behind his glasses.

Hermione moaned as their yelling got louder and the group became much more volatile. She became nervous. She thought about casting a silencing spell. It would delay trouble for the time being. Ministry officials were beginning to gather at the massive entryways and above them near the balconies. They looked angry. "We're trying!" shouted one of them, but a man roughly pulled him back. It was Crabbe and he dragged the man away from the balcony. The poor man seemed to be yelling about the Wizengamot's troubles.

This just made the new protesters even angrier and the Ministry guards began to come out of the corridors and rooms in droves. "Shit!" Ron whispered frantically. "They're going to kick us out for sure! What do we do, Hermione?"

It became worse than that as they edged closer. The guards began to swivel their wands up in down in a threatening manner and Hermione felt her hands fidgeting with her sign. "Keep your ground," whispered McGonagall, her thick Scottish accent shining through. "They're just trying to make everyone uncomfortable to keep a degree of authority."

Unfortunately, this just made the joining crowd even more riled than before and they began to swivel their own wands just as threateningly. "This could be bad," Hermione whispered to Ron and he nodded. "Alright," yelled on of the guards. "You've had your show, now be off with you! I don't want anyone causing any trouble."

"Have we caused you any trouble?" Hermione asked, her tone reeking of young confidence. The guard shrugged. "Your group is causing quite a stir around the Ministry. Officials can't get their work done. People on general business are worried about passing through this entryway. I'd say that's trouble," replied the guard.

"If the Officials can't get their own work done, then their lack of concentration is their own problem. This is supposed to be a peaceful protest so anyone may enter through the lobby without fear. We are not causing trouble," Hermione replied calmly. "Really now?" the guard replied in a singsong tone, almost as if he were flirting with her. "Angry glares as people walk down the hallway? Signs that would make even the most seasoned prisoner of Azkaban blanch? You do understand what you all are risking by your protest, don't you?"

A unified, "Yes," echoed around the lobby and a few passersby watched as red, angry sparks flew from the wands of the members of either side. The guard, upon receiving an order from a particularly angry official on an above balcony, grabbed Hermione by the arm and began dragging her across the slick floor. McGonagall stepped forward and grabbed Hermione's other arm. Oh wonderful, a tug of war, Hermione thought. "Unhand her," McGonagall said sharply, her Gryffindor spirit revealing itself. Oh, the woman was fierce when she wanted to be. After all, she had dueled Snape so intensely before the Hogwarts battle, that when she usurped Snape as Headmistress, no one had attempted to stop her. Not even Snape had protested the change. Perhaps that was because he was exhausted and ill after Nagini's bites (these still pained him and he was often forced to wear high collars and scarves to cover up the scars left by it). Even to this day he was surprised that he had survived, even with the Dead-Man Walking Draft. He was grateful that he had been found by that 3rd year Ravenclaw, and he was grateful that the girl had been clever enough to know how to stop the flow of blood exiting from the open neck wounds. He made a note to watch her progress at Hogwarts carefully. But his exhaustion had prevented him from making any sort of reclamation towards his previous Headmaster position, and it was assumed that he was either content at the change or fearful of McGonagall's wrath.

A flicker of fear whipped across the guard's face, but his eyes glassed over and he gripped Hermione's arm even tighter. "I will not. You and the others will disband or I will be forced to put all of you under arrest." Everyone stood stock still, ignoring the threat. The guard snorted. "Fine, then. Looks like all of you are going to Azkaban. Hope the dementors don't kiss you."


The guard's threat appeared unfounded. They never even got close to Azkaban: they were simply thrown in a holding cell. They fought back (of course they did-they were Gryffindors) but were quickly outnumbered by the guards of the Ministry. They had their wands taken away from them and locked in a storage compartment for "future logs." A rapid series of spells were fired and somehow Bill managed to sneak Fleur away from the fight so that Fleur would not be holed up in a cell such as this small and grimy one. That or perhaps find some money or someone rich enough to bail them out.

Harry was the unfortunate victim of a "Locomotor Mortis," and then an "Incarcerous." He had attempted (and failed) to fend off the attack simply because he was also the victim of a "Stupefy." Gryffindor's always fought to the finish. The similar happened to the other members of the group and when all was said and done, Molly Weasley, Arthur Weasley, Ron Weasley, Ginny Weasley, Fred and George Weasley, Hermione Granger, Harry Potter, Minerva McGonagall, Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, and Tonks were all stuck together in the cell…and the cell was terribly small and terribly dirty.

"Well," sighed Minerva, half-heartedly. "At least there were reporters there. This should at least get us in the papers." Sirius huffed in annoyance, circled the magicked bars once, and plopped down next to Harry. "Oh Minerva, please drop the Happy Hufflepuff act—it's bound to make us sick." Minerva, looking a bit ruffled, said, "I'm surprised you were never sorted into Slytherin like your relatives, Sirius; you're quite the pessimist."

Sirius winced (she had obviously pinched a nerve) and sighed irritably. "They gave us bail, right?" "Right," muttered Lupin. "Oh, great. We'll have to pay the babysitter extra if we don't get out in the next two hours," he commented, staring a particularly large clock outside. "Wonderful," muttered Tonks. "And to think we're already paying her so much already on account of Teddy being an Animagus."

"Don't worry, dear," said Mrs. Weasley who understood the common newlywed predicament—lack of money and even more so since Tonks was the main provider during the holidays. Remus had been promised a job as an adjunct professor for the Defense Against the Dark Arts position. Snape did not feel that he needed a "substitute," but relented anyways. After all, he was getting fairly worn and tired of fighting his way through wizarding academia.

"We'll chip in," she said. Arthur, who had gotten a different, more prominent job at the Ministry after the War, was working, not as an Auror but as the head of the Muggle-Watch department. It was his job to oversee all the Muggle-Watchers, or those who made sure that if there was a magical incident in front of Muggles they would either have their memories modified or their memories would be, "Obliviated." Of course, being the head of a department, and such an important department as that, meant more income for the Weasley household, but more work hours with both the Misuse of Muggle and Magical Artifacts departments. Some days he came home so ragged, he simply went upstairs to their bedroom and fell asleep with his clothes on.

Ron and Hermione, now sitting together, looked absolutely miserable. Hermione was facing one direction and Ron was facing its opposite. "I can't believe we even tried this," muttered Ron. "I can't believe I was even talked into it!" "Well, it's your own fault for lacking a boundary, Ron," Hermione huffed, folding her arms across her chest and crossing her legs. Her feet began twitch. "Besides, I thought you didn't want to marry a bitch." "I don't!" cried Ron, and he leaned his head against the bars of the holding cell. "When do you think we'll get out of here?"

"Hopefully by tonight," answered Harry, his glasses tilting dangerously on the tip of his nose. "I mean…with Bill and Fleur gone we might just be able to get someone to bail us. If they do, I can always pay them back if they really want me to."

"I hope you live up to your word, Mr. Potter, for you know how I detest liars," sneered a familiar voice. Harry, Remus, Sirius, and McGonagall all got up from their spots on the floor. "Snape?" Sirius said, obviously confused. "What're you doing here?" "Bailing you out, of course," Snape drawled lazily. "And I must say, they kept a pretty penny over each and every one of your heads. It was quite disturbing how many galleons I had to extract from my account at Gringotts. Thus, Mr. Potter, you will pay me back half the price it cost to get you all out. Merlin, I have never had to pay such a hefty fee."

"Sure," Harry mumbled. "Thanks for getting us out. How'd you know?" "Mr. Bill and Mrs. Fleur told me," Snape said, and he stepped back a second to allow the guard to unmagick the bars so he could unlock the cell's door. "They also chipped in their galleons and so I only had to pay two-third's of the price. You should be happy we could afford that much. Did you people really think this would work? Tch, how foolish."

"Always one for the dramatics, eh?" Remus joked, hands stuck in pockets. "Well, thanks for getting me out—I would've hated to have been stuck in there during a full moon." Everybody glanced at each other, blanching. What if that had happened? What if Remus had in fact transformed while everyone was in the cell? This they obviously did not think through.

"We were hasty," said Hermione. "We should've known better than that." "Yes, you should've. But thank Merlin one of you had enough sense to sneak away and find someone of value. Though, I am surprised. The Headmistress of the school and Hogwarts most honorable scholar coming up with such a cockamamie plan? It truly boggles the mind how two such esteemed people can decide to—"

"Just watch the damn Prophet tomorrow," interrupted Minerva. "There were reporters. We got the word out." "Words can be twisted, Minerva; you know this. Even more so now that we've got this sly Cliventine as a Minister." "Enough chit-chat!" growled the guard. "I can't keep all of you in here all day. Too many of you. Now, you understand the agreement of the bail—if you all show up either tomorrow or any of the days before the 31st to be sorted with your significant other, you'll be spared an automatic hearing at the Wizengamot's courts to determine your Azkaban sentence." Snape sighed, and sidestepped away from the holding cell's entrance so they could all file out. "Well, you see how well your peaceful protest plan worked out," Snape continued, an arrogant look plastered firmly onto his face. "I have a feeling you'll all regret your plans by daybreak and wish you were all sitting in front of a hot fire with some butterbeer and a good book… just like me."


Author's Notes: Oh god, this was sooooo much fun to write after the movie. It was fantastic, by the way. Alan Rickman totally deserves an Oscar for his breathtaking, heartrending performance and if he gets snubbed, Harry Potter gets snubbed, or if Ralph Fiennes steals the "Best Supporting Actor," award, then I will be extremely upset. Please READ AND REVIEW.