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Chapter Seven: Azkaban

Hermione made him go.

"You have to see this, Harry. You have to help."

Permission had been granted for the two to meet with their "clients" because after all, they were war heroes now, the so-called darlings of the Ministry. Their plan was to speak to the prisoners of war trapped in the horrifying cells of Azkaban to learn their stories and determine if they could be freed.

Who were these prisoners of war? Men, women, and children rounded up by the Aurors and sent off to Azkaban after a farce of a trial. Harry knew firsthand how fickle the Ministry could be, easily swayed by the wind of public opinion. Now the Ministry was bending over backwards to assure their constituents that the Death Eaters were taken care of. No one need fear on the streets again.

The press sold it. The public bought it. But the facts left Hermione Granger fuming.

The Ministry was flaunting its power to teach all supporters of Voldemort a lesson as well as to communicate to its citizens that the Ministry was back in control after the War. Everyone who had supported Voldemort or associated on some level with Death Eaters was sentenced to time in Azkaban. Imprisoned even if they themselves were not Death Eaters. Imprisoned even if they had committed no atrocity or raised no wand to fight. Imprisoned even if they were Hogwarts students with family ties to Voldemort. True, the sentences for the children were only for three months, until Hogwarts started up again, but in Hermione's mind, they should never have been sent there at all. Azkaban was not a lesson a child needed to learn.

Hermione talked to Harry for days before he responded. She lectured, exhorted, and preached to him incessantly. Ron had taken to leaving the room whenever Hermione entered. She knew they were tired of fighting this never-ending battle, but she also knew this was one last thing they needed to accomplish. They needed to set the Slytherins free.

As the guards led them through the chilly, desolate corridors of Azkaban, Hermione spoke.

"Harry?"

"Yes, Hermione?"

"We could be the ones sitting in Azkaban right now."

"What do you mean?"

"If Voldemort had won, then we would be the ones in these cells."

"Nah, we'd be dead, Hermione. We'd go down fighting."

Hermione wasn't so sure about that. She could easily picture herself trapped in this dank, dark, terrifying place unable to escape, unable to communicate with her loved ones. With anyone for that matter. Prisoners here would be easy prey for an abusive guard or a Death Eater roaming the place looking for someone to ... torture.

But that would be another story. By another storyteller.

In the meantime, she worried that some of their more fragile "clients" might die here.

At least the families were kept together. That was a small comfort.

"We have to get them out, Harry, and soon, especially the children. They won't survive, Harry, without windows, without a decent bed or blanket, without decent meals, fighting the fear Dementors bring. Harry, it's not safe here."

Harry nodded thoughtfully, but when the cell door opened and he actually witnessed the children imprisoned inside the first cell, he too struggled for composure. Tears came to his eyes as he and Hermione talked to the families. They listened to their stories, comforted the grieving, and reassured the fearful that they would work to get them out. Hermione spoke with determination. Harry spoke from the heart. This was not right.

They even met with the Slytherins from their year at Hogwarts. Many had younger siblings or aging parents to care for. Blaise Zabini who had no known ties to Voldemort (except for his friendship with Draco Malfoy) was there with his mother and younger sister. Pansy Parkinson and Theo Nott whose fathers had been Death Eaters were frightened and angry. The Greengrass girls whose father had financially supported Voldemort clung to one another frantically. Greg Goyle seemed lost and confused about why he was there at all. Millicent Bulstrode seemed strong. She was placed in a large cell holding several families and she helped with the children. Everyone was glad to see Harry Potter if he were going to be the one to set them free. Rivalries were forgotten. This was a matter of life or death. All would work together to help save the little ones.

"Ron needs to see this too," Harry commented.

"He won't come. I've asked. He's still grieving Fred's death."

"I'm grieving too, Hermione, but this will help pull me out of my funk. It would help Ron too. We need to do this Hermione. We need to help these people. And soon. Do you have a list of names? We should petition the Wizagamot for retrials right away. Tomorrow, I think."

Hermione smiled and threw her arms around Harry. "Exactly. I knew you would see it my way." She fumbled in her bag. "Here is my list. I'm ready when you are."

"Hermione, I want to visit the Malfoy cell next."

Hermione froze. She had avoided that one in her previous visits with Kingsley Shacklebolt.

"I owe them, Hermione. Narcissa Malfoy saved my life."

"Okay," she said slowly. "I can wait outside."

"No," Harry replied forcefully. "I don't think it is safe. You have to stay with me."

Deep down, Hermione agreed. The corridors of Azkaban were not safe. A Dementor could float by at any moment. So she walked with Harry down the passageways of Azkaban until the guard stopped at a door and sneered, "The Malfoy Residence."

They knocked and entered.

Three white blond heads jerked up. Three Malfoys suddenly stood. Grey eyes narrowed suspiciously at their visitors.

Hermione marveled at their poise amid such squalor. But she could not meet their eyes. Their cold grey eyes reminded her of Malfoy Manor and Bellatrix LeStrange. She stepped closer to the wall, intently studying the uneven stone near the door. The walls were built like a cobblestone road. Smooth stones, but a bumpy surface. She wondered if some of the stones could be pried loose for a hiding place beneath. She wondered if one could move the stone on the floor to tunnel underground and escape. No, Dementors would be waiting. It's better to die here in the cell than to have your soul sucked away out there.

"Potter. Granger." Draco Malfoy spoke first. Hermione glanced over and noticed how thin he was. All three were thin for that matter. Their clothes were worn, but not ragged like some of the other residents. Narcissa was beautiful, as usual, but pale, and her hair was in disarray, hanging down her back. Narcissa looked pointedly at Hermione, so Hermione turned away again, fighting nausea.

"Malfoy, I'm glad to see that you are well and that your parents are too," Harry began calmly.

"We are just peachy, Potter."

"I know we've had a bad history, the two of us, but believe it or not, I'm here to help. I'm working with Hermione to get people out of Azkaban. I can't promise that we can get you out, but we will try."

"All of us?" a husky voice asked. Hermione turned back to see that it was Narcissa who had spoken. She held her hand to her heart and she gazed intently at Harry.

"We will try to get all of you released, but I'm sure you understand, Draco and Mr. Malfoy, that it will be difficult to build a case for those branded with the Dark Mark."

"It has been done before," commented Lucius silkily. Hermione shuddered at the sound of his voice.

"Exactly. That is the very reason why this time around will be more difficult."

"Get Draco out first. Please. I won't leave unless Draco is set free first."

"Mother. You just heard him say that it might not happen. I have the Mark."

Narcissa shook her head and gave a low laugh that chilled Hermione. She gasped at the memory of Bellatrix giving the same sort of laugh as she cut the word Mudblood into Hermione's skin. Hermione began to tremble. Narcissa's voice faded away so Hermione could no longer hear the conversation or hear why she laughed that way.

"Hermione? Are you okay?" Harry's concerned voice cut through her fog. Because Hermione did not want any attention being drawn to her, she nodded and willed her body to be still. She was still facing the wall so the agonized expressions on her face could not be seen by the Malfoy family.

"How soon can you get us out? If my wife and son are first on the list, I will reward you substantially." Lucius spoke imperiously.

That brought Hermione back. She hmphed and shot Lucius Malfoy a dirty look. She would have spoken, but Harry held up his hand.

"Hermione, do you have the list?"

She nodded and handed it over. The Malfoys weren't even on her list. She would have been happy to let them rot in Azkaban.

"Here, Mr. Malfoy, Mrs. Malfoy, see who is on the list. These are the people who need help. And we are not charging for our efforts."

Hermione glanced at the three blond heads bowed before the list. She turned away again, feeling sick to her stomach. The pages rustled as they turned.

"Children? Why on earth are there children here in Azkaban? They're innocent!" Malfoy sounded disturbed.

"Some are innocent; many are not. Some of these children used unforgiveables on their classmates during the Carrows' reign at Hogwarts."

"Why is Millicent first on the list? And Greg second? And the Greengrass girls? This does not make sense. The little ones should be first."

"I'm not sure. Hermione? Is this list in order?" Harry turned to Hermione.

Hermione cleared her throat and looked up at Malfoy, steadily ignoring his parents.

"Yes, this is the order. Millicent has been caring for the some of the younger children. The older Slytherins are going to care for the younger ones at Hogwarts until their parents are released. Pansy, Blaise, and Theo are a little farther down with the older children."

Malfoy gave a nod and did not bother to hide the respect in his eyes. You could always count on Granger to think of the right thing to do.

Narcissa Malfoy spoke suddenly. "You will need Rita Skeeter's help."

Hermione snorted. Harry grinned.

"Rita Skeeter would never help me." Her mouth twitched; she was grateful for the comic reminder of Skeeter the bug trapped under her glass.

Hermione lifted her eyes to meet Narcissa's calculating gaze. Her grin faded.

"Let me write a note to her; it is very important." Narcissa urged, so Hermione complied, rummaging in her bag for parchment and a quill. Draco raised his brows at the hangbag. How was Granger permitted to bring a bag into Azkaban? After the note was signed, Draco turned to the matter at hand.

"If we never get set free, then so be it. But the little ones on this list need to be saved."

"I agree, Malfoy. But don't worry, Mr. Malfoy, Mrs. Malfoy, we won't forget you," assured Harry earnestly. "You will be on the list too. Let me know where you want to be placed and we will do our best."

"I want my family at the top of this list. You will place them first," ordered Lucius Malfoy.

"No, Father, it isn't right. Last, Potter. Place us last," commanded Draco. He met his father's gaze with a clenched jaw.

Harry searched their faces, and nodded.

"Well, Hermione, are you ready to leave?" Harry turned to Hermione, and she rolled her eyes. What kind of a question was that? She nodded and banged on the door to let the guard know they were finished.

"When will we see you again?" Lucius grated harshly as Harry and Hermione passed through the door. "Knowing when you are coming will help us get through the days here."

Harry turned to Hermione. "How often do you come, Hermione? Once a week?"

Hermione nodded.

"We'll be back next week," Harry assured the Malfoys.

Hermione glared at Harry. He could return if he wanted, but she knew that she would not be back.