Notes: I'm sorry for the delay with this piece. I've been extraordinarily busy since the new year. I'm also about to start a new job that is likely to be extremely stressful… to say the least. However, I'm not finished with this AU.

This piece is very wonkish, but I appreciate intricate, thoughtful policy wonkery, and I figure readers of this particular story can at least tolerate it. ;) The things mentioned here have always bothered me in the canon books.

Chapter Twenty-Five: Curious Allies

Hermione frowned as she set down the last document that she had just finished reading, a copy of the regulations concerning the wizarding legal system. It was not a pretty picture. In fact, it was barbaric. As she had known for a while, wizards in Britain—and, for that matter, the United States—had no right of due process of law, at least in the sense that she understood it from her awareness of the Muggle world. In wizarding Britain, they could be carted off to Azkaban without trial if a top Ministry official deemed it necessary for "security." When the accused did get a trial, it did not include the right to legal defense. Hermione knew that "trials" in wizarding Britain generally consisted of the accused being held—often chained—at the center of the courtroom, barely allowed to speak, screamed at and interrupted constantly by Ministry bureaucrats, without the benefit of an attorney or even any rules of order for the proceeding itself. Once at Azkaban, prisoners were held in the custody of monsters, with limited oversight over said monsters. The conditions of Azkaban absolutely constituted torture, in Hermione's opinion. In wizarding America, certain officials even had the right of immediate summary execution behind closed doors, and the accused—the victim—had no right of appeal.

Hermione knew that she was unable to change the policies of a foreign country, at least without having the International Confederation of Wizards take up the matter. To her chagrin, she was not a member yet, though Tom was. But before any procedure to change the legal system globally could begin, Britain's own wizarding justice system had to have some changes made. They needed a moral platform to stand on before they could criticize others—and it was the right thing to do, either way.

Hermione occasionally wondered at the fact that she was going to be working with Tom Riddle to expand human rights in the wizarding world, but so it was. His extreme wizarding pride had made the idea of wizards having fewer rights than Muggles unconscionable to him.

I still can't decide what kind of nationalism his views really are, she thought idly. He doesn't hesitate to make disparaging comments about the Muggle world or to incite fear of Muggles. Even one of his best policies—granting Squib status to all the Muggle-born families—was about including those non-magicals with magical ancestry, rather than being inclusive of the non-magical population generally. But he does care about our community, and he has done good things for us without actually harming Muggles… and some Muggles do pose a threat to us. Still… I know he already disliked them, and their present geopolitical situation is a rationalization for what he would have thought anyway.

She supposed that it did not matter. Tom had elements of both destructive and constructive kinds of nationalistic sentiment, if those of magical heritage were seen as a "nation," and that was just how it was. He was complicated… but Hermione realized that she would not have been happy with a simple person. Tom challenged her—sometimes exasperatingly so, and they did not always agree, but they always kept each other thinking, and that was incalculably precious.

She returned to her examination of the laws. Most of them, unfortunately, had been enacted by the Wizengamot, and therefore would require a Wizengamot act to alter or repeal. That was a longer-term project. But there were a few things that could be changed with the stroke of the Ministerial quill….

Hermione scribbled some notes and got up to find Tom in his home office.

Tom shared her contemplative frown as he read her propositions. Finally he set down the documents on his desk, covering his dark blue diary. He gazed at her, distracting her attention from that book.

"As you pointed out, removing the dementors from Azkaban requires a Wizengamot vote. Now… I have no personal objection to it," he began. "The idea of incarcerating wizards and witches around creatures that drain their magic and turn them gradually insane is abhorrent to me. It's a crime against magic. I really think that the prison could be secured by strong wards, Aurors, wand confiscation, and the Imperius Curse for the worst cases. But for some incomprehensible reason, people think that's 'evil.'"

Hermione smiled despite his final sentence. "Then do you think that you can get your faction to vote as a bloc with you? I'm absolutely certain that Albus Dumbledore is against the dementors, and he could very likely get the Reformists to support him—"

"I'm pretty sure that Weasley would want to keep them, though," Tom said, reflexively grimacing at the mention of Dumbledore. "I expect, yes, that I can get my own faction behind me. But the other two will be divided. I'll have to do some… intelligence gathering." He hesitated. "And have a plan for what to do with them if they're not at the prison."

"What do you mean, what to do with them?" Hermione pointed at the next item on the list. "If there's one thing I want changed more than the dementors' presence at the prison—"

Tom smiled—almost smirked. "Yes, and I'll get to that. But I don't want rogue dementors preying on the population either."

"They are Dark creatures that do literally nothing except destroy people," Hermione said severely. "I don't think we should have to 'do anything with them' except wipe them out."

Tom considered. "That's quite an undertaking… but I admire your goal, and I'll direct the Department of Mysteries to get to work on the how. With your organization," he added as her eyebrows rose. "But in the meantime…." He smiled that pointed smile again. "This I can change with an order, and I will be delighted to do so. I probably should have done it when I first became Minister, though fortunately nobody has paid the price for that delay."

Hermione's eyebrows rose even higher. "Really? I—I confess I'm a little surprised—"

Tom set the papers down, got up from his chair, and put his hands around her waist. "Why do you think I would be in favor of the Dementor's Kiss? I've never ordered that for anyone as Law Enforcement Head or as Minister."

Her gaze fluttered involuntarily toward the blue diary on his desk. "I know you haven't… and I shouldn't think this way, but in my old timeline…." She trailed off. "Never mind. That's not really it. It's that." She pointed at the diary, unwilling to meet his eyes.

He tilted her chin so that they had to look at each other. "'That' is precisely why I am pleased to do away with this bit of incomparable barbarism. I of all people understand the importance of the soul. I know better than most that it's not only the core of personality, memories, and magic, as the Hogwarts Defense curriculum declares." He stroked the surface of the diary with his spread fingertips. "I understand what its other central attribute is, because I dared to read those 'evil' Dark Arts books that talk about its immortality…." He collected himself, taking a breath. "The point is, I know the value of the soul especially well. I will abolish this practice as soon as I can talk to Caspar Crouch about it."

Hermione was taken aback. "Crouch?" she repeated. This got stranger and stranger. She was astonished that Tom wanted to reach out to his former political adversary.

"I can't afford to have him against me on a policy that affects his department. The press isn't attacking us anymore, but my position is still too precarious for that."

This was unexpected. "Do you think you can?" she asked.

"I expect so. I don't think he cares about it. He hasn't asked me to approve it for anyone since I became Minister. He just wouldn't like me to do something that he considered an encroachment upon his job—even though I have clear legal authority here. His ego should be satisfied by the fact that I consulted with him," Tom scoffed disdainfully. "I'll work on my arguments to him, of course."

Hermione reflected on what she had just heard. This time around, Tom did care about wizarding people, if in an impersonal way, based more on the common good of the wizarding world—or his idea of it. As odd as it was to consider, his reasoning against the Dementor's Kiss made a certain twisted sense, too. He had not been drawn to Horcruxes because the soul was the seat of personality and memory, after all. In this mirror-world, where Tom did have a few people he loved and a sense of real—if narcissistic—responsibility to the wizarding world, his fixation with that particular form of Dark magic had apparently permuted rather differently.

Well… sometimes people can arrive at the same position through different personal reasons, she thought. If it served a good end, then so be it.

She pointed at another item on the list of notes as he sat back down in his chair. "My analysis of the current law is that, with another order, you could require that all accused have the right to a wizarding attorney at trial."

Tom folded his hands and studied his fingers. "I could. Not all can afford to pay, though."

"In the Muggle world—"

Tom scowled.

Hermione scowled back. "Tom, you want to improve our legal system because you don't want Muggles to have more rights in their courts than we do in ours. That means, by definition, that we'll be making ours more similar to theirs."

The scowl lasted another moment, but then it lifted in resignation to her logic.

"In the Muggle world," she continued, "there is a pool of public defenders appointed to cases by the justice system. I'm not sure that is the best answer for us, given that it would probably have to be the Department of Magical Law Enforcement in our case."

He gave her a sideways look. "You don't trust my Ministry?"

Hermione raised her eyebrows high. "It's not about you, Tom. Would you trust an attorney who technically answered to Caspar Crouch to argue in court against him?"

It was something of an unfair question. Caspar Crouch was territorial about his office, but he really did not seem as authoritarian as his son would be—have been?—in the other timeline. Still, she knew that the wizarding world did not have enough appreciation of ethics or human rights for her to trust the independence of a defense attorney who answered to the prosecutor—and head of the department. And more to the point, she knew that Tom did not trust Caspar Crouch on any account.

For whichever reason, that question did give Tom pause. "Fair point," he conceded. "It does look bad for a defense attorney to serve under the Law Enforcement Head… and obviously the Wizengamot itself can't do it, since they hear the trials."

"Having the Wizengamot as a legislature and a court of law is a problem itself," Hermione muttered.

"One thing at a time, dear. You're right; we don't have to do things exactly the way they do." He considered. "There aren't that many wizarding attorneys in the first place."

Hermione nodded. The procedure for becoming a wizarding attorney was to pass a test that the Ministry of Magic administered. It was a certification, and one had to study the law entirely on one's own; wizards did not have law school. To her disapproval, there was no Hogwarts course in "Wizarding Civics" or "Wizarding Law" either. She made a mental note to present that idea to Dumbledore at some point; she doubted that Slughorn would care much about it. And perhaps McGonagall, she added in thought. She might be interested in the idea too.

"And they won't be needed all the time, after all," Tom continued. "So the Ministry could pay them on a case-by-case basis. Just have a list of them to call upon as needed."

Hermione nodded. "That would work. Not from the money allocated for Magical Law Enforcement, though… and they would not officially be part of any Ministry department. Just a list of names, and someone not in that Department randomly chooses one for a trial when requested."

Tom gave her a wry smile. "That's a good idea, and I absolutely have to tell Crouch about the other issue if I do it. Wait, Hermione," he said at once as she began to turn aside. He got up and placed a hand on her arm, looking at her with intense eyes. "I'm not dismissing you."

He gave her a squeeze, which she returned with a warm smile.

Hermione stared at the paper, frowning. "Tom," she said, "why do you want to do this? Replace the Dementor's Kiss with the Killing Curse? This really isn't what I had in mind."

Tom looked up from his chair. The children were already in bed, and the adults were in the family sitting room. He raised a brow at her and pointedly fingered the ring, the Hallow, on his finger. "You surely agree that the Killing Curse is better."

She set the proposal down on a side table. "Of course it's better. Anything would be better! But why do you have to have capital punishment at all?"

"It's an option, Hermione. An option for the most dangerous cases. It's not a mandate."

"I do not like the idea of the Minister—yes, Tom, even you, and even me, if I were Minister—arbitrarily deciding which dangerous prisoners are executed and which are imprisoned!"

"Then you want it mandated?" he challenged.

"No! I don't know why you have to have this in the law at all. Is it"—her lips pursed at the thought—"for politics?"

"Might be," he said. "People are resistant to forward-moving change. I don't have to use this, Hermione… it's just an option in the law."

She stared at him in disappointment. "This shouldn't be the sort of thing you use as a political bargaining chip."

"A political bargaining chip?" he repeated. "If that's it, do recall what we get from that bargain. I'll make it."

She hesitated, but another objection occurred to her. "What if no one is able to cast the Killing Curse?"

Tom muttered something under his breath, but Hermione caught it anyway.

"I know that you could, Mr. Yes-Reporter-I-Am-a-Dark-Wizard, but you won't be the one with that duty. Not everyone can do it."

Tom considered that. "Well, there's always poison. Several potions cause painless death. That could be an alternative." He made a note on the document, then stared hard at her as something occurred to him. "Is this just because you cast the Killing Curse on that cow in Kiev and still regret it? Is that what it's really about?"

Hermione blinked. A rush of defensive anger surged in her. "I'll try to forget you said that, Tom. Good night."

As she turned to walk out the door, he jumped from his seat and called out. "Wait—Hermione."

She paused in the doorway, regarding him frostily.

"I… I'm sorry," he finally got out. "I shouldn't have said that."

Her face softened, and surprise flickered in her brown eyes. He approached her, and when he reached her, placed his hands gently on her waist.

"And yes… it's to make the change more politically palatable in the short term. Long term, there should be more education about the subject matter in general. I'm working on that idea."

Hermione was so moved that he had actually apologized for insensitivity, without prompting, that she did not make much note of this last remark.

Caspar Crouch had been suspicious when the Minister summoned him to his office. Riddle had probably found—or concocted—a reason to fire him, he supposed. He was even more suspicious when he saw that the Minister's wife was beside the desk. Crouch did not agree with the scathing but childish editorial that Druella Black had written about Mrs. Riddle, but he was rather annoyed that the Minister's closest advisor was someone who was not answerable to any of the Ministry or Wizengamot apparatus. It would be so simple—if highly unorthodox—for Riddle to appoint her to a position, but he clearly preferred her substantial influence to be unofficial. After all, who in either institution would dare publicly object to a Minister listening to his spouse?

Crouch had attempted to dispel the appearance of dislike and suspicion from his face as Riddle began to speak to him. Then, as the conversation reached its central point, the suspicion disappeared organically.

Hermione had been observing Crouch throughout the interaction. He did not like Tom, he did not like her, and he attempted—badly—to hide the latter. She had some time ago given up the idea that she would be distinct from Tom in the opinions of his political adversaries—or, when it came to it, most of his allies, and even the general wizarding public. It frustrated her a little bit still, because she had worked so hard to have her own career, but she realized that it was inevitable that they would be linked. And, after all, she had helped him… she had exchanged ideas with him, assisted him with the details of many of his proposals, and fought the same fight in the Soviet bloc so recently….

"So," Tom said, pushing a sheet of paper at Crouch, "here is what I would like to do. Our justice system is worse than the Muggle courts during the burning times, and I hope you'll agree that this needs to change."

Crouch read over the paper with a contemplative frown. He set it down on the desk, passing it back to Tom, and considered his reply before speaking.

"I think," he began, "that this is a very reasonable proposal, and I appreciate the fact that you let me know about it in advance."

"And the other change I'm going to make? The right to legal defense?"

Crouch considered how to answer. "It will make my department's job in the courtroom less easy, and make no mistake about that," he said, "but it should significantly reduce the amount of press commentary about 'stacked courts' and unfair trials."

Commentary that is warranted and well-deserved, Hermione thought.

"It should," Tom agreed warmly. Hermione knew the warmth in his voice right now was an affectation, but it was convincing to most others. "It makes the Ministry look better—giving these people a fair chance—while at the same time, ensuring that our system affords the same rights as the Muggles'."

Crouch thought about that. "Minister, you and I don't always agree, to say the least, but we do agree about that."

Tom smirked broadly.

Tom insisted that Hermione be with him for the meeting with Albus Dumbledore. She did not object to being present; she was sure, in fact, that she would be more effective with Dumbledore than Tom could be, with his dislike of the man. But a part of her found it somewhat petty that Tom did still have such a problem with Dumbledore that he apparently did not think he could talk with the man, Minister for Magic to Headmaster of Hogwarts, in a private meeting. She asked Tom about that as they prepared for Dumbledore's arrival in the Ministry.

He adjusted his necktie. "Dumbledore never did trust me," he said. He lowered his voice. "That business in fifth year… he always suspected I had a hand in it. And he's the only person I know of who might be as good a Legilimens as I am."

Hermione gave him a sideways look. She supposed it made sense; Dumbledore had thought that Tom was responsible for the Chamber of Secrets incident almost as soon as it had happened. But he had never voiced that suspicion to anyone, even after Tom became Minister, even during the times when the press would have seized on such shocking information like a shark in a pool of chum—and even now, after Tom had admitted in a public press conference to being a Dark wizard "when he had to be." Perhaps Dumbledore had decided that, even if Tom had opened the Chamber, it was time for his "second chance," given that he had never been a suspect in his subsequent murders of the Riddles or Pollux Black… and given that he was not a terrorist leader, but a respectable politician implementing mostly reasonable things.

"I doubt that Dumbledore is going to try to read your thoughts to find incriminating information about you," she said in that same low voice. "He could have voiced his suspicions any time, especially recently, when the press was attacking you every day. He didn't. I think he wants to work with you when he can."

"It's because he would rather work with me than with the likes of Malfoy… or Crouch, probably," Tom said sourly. A grim smile flickered on his face for a moment. "At least Malfoy is finished in politics. But I know that Dumbledore would rather have his pet Weasley as Minister."

"I'm not so sure of that," Hermione said. "I'm also not sure that Weasley is Dumbledore's 'pet' anymore, if indeed he ever was. Weasley has had some ideas that I am sure Dumbledore doesn't approve of, like that awful idea to fine wizard-witch marriages. And if he does want to keep the dementors, I know for a fact Dumbledore would be against that…." She let her sentence trail off as the Floo in Tom's office began to activate and its voice system announced Dumbledore's arrival.

The wizard emerged through the fireplace, clad in a gleaming set of red and gold satin robes. Tom reflexively scowled for a moment at the display of Gryffindor colors, but he controlled his face before the Headmaster could see.

Dumbledore beamed at them as he took his seat. He spread his hands, meeting Tom's cold eyes with his twinkling ones.

"I understand that you require my presence to discuss removing the dementors from Azkaban," he said. "This is a very worthy goal and I hope we can achieve it."

Tom's eyes grew even colder at Dumbledore's use of the word "we." "Well," he said in somewhat clipped tones, "that is certainly something we hope to discuss with you, but I intend to ease the transition, if you will, by making an immediate change to Ministry capital punishment statutes."

"Indeed?"

"Yes." He pushed forward the final draft of the order. "This is what Hermione and I have decided to do, and we have the support of Caspar Crouch."

Dumbledore took the paper and read it quickly. "So you think it will be necessary to keep some form of capital punishment in the law?"

"I expect so," he said. "But I'm sure you will agree with me that this is a much better alternative."

"Of course, I certainly do," Dumbledore agreed. "I admit I don't like the idea of executions, but death, after all, is just the next great adventure."

Tom managed to suppress a sneer. "Yes. Well. The thing is, I don't think that there would have been any support for the Dementor's Kiss at all if there were a wider understanding of just what it really did."

Hermione looked at Tom in alarm. This really is not the time, she tried to tell him in thought, but to no avail. She wasn't even going to mention her own idea for a law course at school yet….

"Yes," Dumbledore agreed mildly, "there is much ignorance on that topic. Most people seem to think that it is… I believe… merely a form of Obliviation that also takes away free will and magic."

"And with all due respect, Headmaster, I don't think that the school properly educates students on the topic," Tom said aggressively, leaning forward in his chair and almost glaring at the older man.

Hermione nudged him hard, and he shot her a look, but he apparently intended to continue in this vein. What is he doing? she thought. Is he actually going to try to tell Dumbledore to put Dark Arts material about souls in the curriculum? Why? This isn't about reversing public acceptance of a horrible practice. This is about something else, to him….

"Could you elaborate, Tom?" Dumbledore asked, still in that mild tone of voice.

Tom placed his hands on the desk, fingers entwined, and gazed at Dumbledore, being careful not to meet his eyes directly. "You and I… and Hermione… we are all educated people. I am sure we all have read extensively about all branches of magic. There are… subjects… especially in the Dark Arts, that I've read about… topics such as possession. If more people studied this field of magic, merely read about it, of course, then they would by necessity learn about the full properties of the soul."

Dumbledore regarded Tom silently for a moment. "You do realize, both of you"—he nodded politely to Hermione—"that Hogwarts cannot teach comprehensively about possession without addressing other subject matter that's inherently connected to the topic… don't you?"

"I don't see a problem," Tom said. "The NEWT-level Defense curriculum already teaches about the Unforgivable Curses. Giving them information about something is not the same as telling them that they should do it."

"Ah, there we must have a subtle disagreement, Tom," Dumbledore said. "I mean—no, it's not the same, but one of the principles behind the Hogwarts curriculum is that students should receive instruction in the kinds of magic that they will either need to use, or could encounter in their daily lives. The sorts of topics we are alluding to—they're very Dark, very rare, and in my view, should not be normalized by official instruction to seventeen- and eighteen-year-old students."

Tom stared back at the Headmaster challengingly, still careful not to lock his gaze with the other man's. Hermione suddenly realized what this was about. Tom wants to demonstrate power over Albus Dumbledore on Dumbledore's own ground, she thought. That's what this is for him. That, and… on some level… it's almost like he wants to tell Dumbledore about his own deed. It's like boasting to the press of being a Dark wizard.

She cut in. "This has been a very interesting discussion, but we didn't actually request your presence here to critique the school curriculum," she said, with a pointed look at Tom. "My husband and I have a thirst for magical knowledge. I'm sure you understand."

Dumbledore smiled mildly.

"So," she continued, "he is going to make this change to our penal statute, and we have a goal of removing the dementors entirely. Tom believes that his political faction will support him, but we're unsure about division in the ranks everywhere else. You are a respected figure and, to a certain degree, above the political fray… and you obviously have a great commitment to human rights." She met his eyes, willing him to read the thought that was at the forefront of her mind about his support for the rights of sentient beings in her old timeline.

"Thank you," he said. "I… do believe that I can persuade many of my allies on the Wizengamot to support this. Half of the public, roughly, seems to regard the dementors as protectors, which I think is very much mistaken, but the other half rightly fears them. They are not benevolent beings and, frankly, I do not think we should expose anyone to them."

"I agree," Hermione said. She turned to Tom, nodding slightly.

He took her cue. "Obviously we need security at the prison, but I think that in place of the dementors, we can have a combination of strong wards, both on the prison itself and the periphery of the island; a detail of Aurors or others accustomed to handling dangerous criminals; obviously confiscating wands and all magical objects; and, for the most dangerous prisoners, the use of the Imperius Curse."

Dumbledore considered that. "You're proposing authorizing the Ministry to use two of the three Unforgivables."

"Should they be 'unforgivable' at all, though?" Tom speculated. "There are several curses that are much more brutal. Those two, at least, could have some valid uses. I'm open to alternatives, though," he added with a slick smile. "In the new capital punishment statute, you saw that I would allow the use of a painless lethal poison, to prevent anyone from being forced to kill. If you can think of something that would work as well as Imperius, I'm all ears."

Dumbledore was silent.

"Do let me know, or Hermione, if something occurs to you," he said in a seemingly accommodating tone that Hermione knew was insincere. "I want this to pass, and I don't want the proposed replacement to hurt our chances."

Dumbledore left shortly afterward. When he had returned to Hogwarts, Hermione turned to Tom, eyes wide and disapproving.

"What was that about?" she demanded, though she was sure she had worked out the answer. She just wanted to hear what he had to say for himself.

He raised an eyebrow at her. "That man is censoring information at the school."

"That's not what your issue is. You just want to leave your mark on Hogwarts and overrule him on a subject about the Dark Arts that you happen to have personal interest in," she said. "Don't deny it."

He shrugged.

"You're being reckless, you know."

Tom set down his quill and met her gaze fully. "Am I? Hermione, do you really think that Dumbledore doesn't know by now about the conversation I had with Slughorn? The man's been Deputy Headmaster for over a year, and you saw that Prophet article a while back that said they were both 'hedging' about my interest in the Dark Arts."

Hermione hesitated.

"And I'm not a student anymore. I have no reason to hide what I know from him."

"As long as he thinks it's only knowledge."

"He can't prove a thing about me."

"I just wish you would be more careful," she said. "Why court danger? But if you won't be careful for your own sake, I wish you'd consider it for my sake, and that of the children. You're making it awfully plain that whatever you know, I know. Please consider that."

He looked chastened at that. "I really don't think our conversation was as risky as you believe… it was more, 'Yes, I did have that discussion with Sluggy, and let's discuss the subject like intelligent scholars and adults now,' but I take your point."

Tom signed the directives about legal representation and capital punishment with a press photographer documenting the event. Hermione, Crouch, Dumbledore, the Chief Auror Abbott, and Griffith Diggory, Head of the Department of Mysteries, were present behind his desk for the photo op. Diggory had worked in the Veil Room before his promotion, and Hermione suspected that someone from that specific division—although the press did not know anything about what was in Mysteries—would be an ally on the capital punishment matter. She was correct.

The following day, the Wizengamot was convened to consider the Minister's proposal, formulated in consultation with Albus Dumbledore, to change the security mechanism of Azkaban Prison. As Tom and Hermione had both expected, the Reformists and Isolationists were divided on this.

Orion Black, newly recognized as a member of the Wizengamot, knew what was expected of him by the people who had got him his seat—and truth to tell, he had no objection to getting rid of the dementors. Like much of his family—and, for that matter, like Tom himself—he did not think that many Dark spells should be punished with prison time at all, but he also knew not to argue on that issue, which would be a distraction. He gave a brief but well-spoken statement, aimed at his fellow Isolationists, about the need for wizards to treat each other humanely.

Then Septimus Weasley was recognized. Hermione observed as Tom's eyebrows narrowed.

"Although I have my reservations," Weasley began, "I respect the assessment of Albus Dumbledore of the dementors' nature, and I am willing to vote in favor of removing them. However, I have grave concerns about the Minister's proposed replacement. If we pass this as-is, then with the Minister's recent change to our capital punishment statute, the Ministry will be using not just the Imperius Curse, but also the Killing Curse. I worry about the moral example that this sets."

Tom motioned to the Chief Warlock to be recognized. "There are numerous curses that can kill if left unhealed. This is the one fatal curse that is instant, painless, and leaves no damage to the body. But as all of you must know, the order that I signed also authorized the use of certain poisons when no one was willing to cast a curse. These are the most humane methods."

Weasley scowled. "It sends a terrible message to say that it is all right for the Ministry to use Unforgivable Curses."

Tom rolled his eyes. "Yes, much better to send the message that the Ministry will employ demonic creatures to guard the prison or suck a prisoner's soul out! I don't mean to suggest that the so-called Unforgivable Curses are benign, but I think there may be too much made of the name. It refers to their punishment in law, not their inherent morality—especially these two. There are plenty of curses, not all of which are Dark, that are much more brutal than the two we're discussing.

"Yesterday I signed a directive ending the use of an unspeakable punishment and replacing it with a civilized one—which wouldn't even be used except for the most dangerous criminals, who can't be safely contained in Azkaban. Today I am proposing to take the security of that prison, and the treatment of fellow witches and wizards, out of the hands of monsters and put it in the hands of the best, the most powerful, of the magical community. Not every prisoner would be Imperiused, just those who, again, the wards couldn't safely hold. There is ample precedent for Ministry officials, under select circumstances, to be allowed to do things prohibited to the general population."

Weasley was silenced.

A few others spoke, generally brief comments in support of the plan. When this finally subsided, the Minister submitted his formal proposal to the Chief Warlock, who then called for a voice vote.

Throughout the roll call, Hermione was keeping up with the number of yeas, nays, and abstentions, loudly calling out her affirmative vote when her name was called. The roll call was not alphabetical, nor was it organized by faction. Those members who had been awarded personal seats by the Wizengamot were considered the most junior, and they voted first. The next group included those who held hereditary seats that would pass upon their death or resignation to another member of the family. Hermione was included in this group, as the representative of the Riddles—since Tom held the Minister's vote.

When his name was called, Septimus Weasley reluctantly muttered a yea himself, much to her surprise—and Tom's. Hermione exchanged a shocked, wide-eyed glance with him as Weasley cast his vote. This prompted several Reformists who aligned more with Weasley's security-state view, and who had already voted, to change their votes. This was not something Hermione or Tom had anticipated, and as soon as the scramble started, they knew the vote was effectively over.

Finally the Headmaster of Hogwarts, the Head of Magical Law Enforcement, the Minister for Magic, and the Chief Warlock, all permanent members, cast their votes.

In the end, it wasn't that close. Hermione sank back in her seat, a smile blooming on her face at what she had just achieved for the wizarding world.

End Notes: Dumbledore in canon all but told Severus to use Avada Kedavra on him ("a quick, painless exit"). He also ordered Moody to use Imperius on students to teach them how to fight it. I think he could be pragmatic about those two, especially if the dementors are presented as the alternative.

Yes, Tom is being incredibly careless. There have been numerous serial killers who devised elaborate puzzles for the police to decipher, because on some level they wanted notoriety for their deeds. They were proud of them. I think there is a similar psychology going on with Tom.