Well, it was freedom of sorts.
It had all gone a bit 'tits up' at the Battle of Hogwarts. When it became apparent that they were losing, a lot of people fled. He wasn't one of them. More fool him! Perhaps it would have been better if he'd been killed like his wife. The prospect of spending the next fourteen years locked in Azkaban was bleak and as he was dragged (literally) away from the remnants of the school, it was looking more and more likely.
So it was he found himself thrown into a cell to be forgotten about all over again, or so he thought. He wasn't sure whether it had been a week, a month or year when his cell door was opened and he was dragged back into the world of the living. Before he really knew what was going on, he was forced into a chair and told to listen. Opposite him was a burly looking man whom he thought he recognised from the Ministry. Interesting… he sat up then, wondering what this was all about.
Without saying anything, a piece of parchment with a rather long list of names on it was shoved under his nose. He recognised them all; his was on it for a start. All of them were Death Eaters. Some of them were crossed off, the known dead he assumed. He flicked blue eyes from the paper to the man opposite him and shrugged, "What?" he asked.
"Where are these people?" The voice was gruff, burly and stank of mudblood.
"I've been in prison for the past month, I have no idea."
"It's been three days…"
Three days… shit, felt like longer. Time didn't really have any meaning in this place. Rod ran a hand over his face and shook his head. "What's in it for me?" he asked. There was no point telling them what they wanted to know if all they were going to do was throw him back in there for the dementors to devour. He only had one card and he was going to try to play that for all it was worth!
"We thought you might say that, we've spent the last three days trying to come up with something that is acceptable for everyone involved. Believe me, most people would rather see you dead than this but we can't have that," the burly one said. An envelope was slid across the table. Rod eyed it for a moment before picking it up and tugging it open. Inside was another piece of parchment. When he read it, he sank back into the chair. It was too good to be true surely they weren't going to run with something like this.
"Is this real?" he said. He wouldn't put it passed them to make shit up and then deny it afterwards.
"Yes."
"Explain it then," he said, wanting to hear more before agreeing to anything.
"You'll start off under house arrest in your Manor. A bracelet will be fitted to your left wrist which will monitor both your whereabouts and magical casting. If you use magic to harm another creature, we will know. If you try to leave your house, we will know. If the place is visited by others, we will know. Your house will be warded allowing only certain visitors. Your mail will be monitored too." They really weren't going to take any chances with this, he couldn't blame them. It sounded like a lot of rules. The alternative was far, far worse.
"I want the device fitting before I say anything," he said.
"We thought you'd say that." Burly said. He made a quick gesture with his hand and a small fellow stepped forward. He fitted what appeared to be an inane metal bangle to his left wrist. Tight enough to stay on but not too tight to be painful; there was no way he'd be able to remove it.
No more dementors; no more eating grey gruel, no more sleeping on a cold stone floor. The ability to have happy thoughts and not have them stolen… He looked at the list before him and nodded, "What do you want to know."
Seven hours later, he was being deposited at the house by a tall woman. They'd said they would be back in the morning for more information; he'd just nodded, knowing that he was well and truly in their pocket now. With the Dark Lord gone, he supposed it was time to adapt and change, fit into the new world rather than perish with the old. If there was one thing he was good at, it was self-preservation!