Hogwarts
My name is Hermione Granger. I am an Assistant Professor at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. I was a student here before. A few months after graduation, I was offered a position as a Teaching Assistant to Professor Severus Snape, for Potions class. I was quite surprised. That man doesn't like me, and neither do I think much of him. But the Headmaster had said Snape could do with the help.
I accepted the offer, because I loved Hogwarts and I love teaching. Nothing is more perfect than to be able to remain in Hogwarts, educating the next generation of young wizards and witches. I love my work.
I seldom see Harry and Ron, my two best friends at Hogwarts. Harry became a professional Quidditch player for England. Ron found a job as a junior officer at the Ministry of Magic, in the Department of Magical Games and Sports.
I hope Ron has gotten over his father's death. It came as a shock to all of us. Mr Weasley, he was a father figure to all of us. Mrs Weasley nearly cried her eyes blind. The whole Weasley family would have collapsed if not for Bill Weasley holding the family together. He took Mr Weasley's place.
Draco.Malfoy……he is to blame for all this misery. He deserved death in Azkaban. We always knew he would grow up to be a rotten, heartless Deatheater. He deserved to die a horrible death in Azkaban.
Or did he? We were all convinced of his guilt. Except for one person. The Headmaster. Professor Dumbledore. But I am the only one who knows this. Dumbledore wanted me to keep it a secret. He did not wish to upset the Weasley family. Or Harry. But I knew that he paid visits to Cornelius Fudge, the Minister of Magic, at his office a few times during the trial. I also heard that Fudge lost his temper during one of those visits and practically shouted at Dumbledore. And Dumbledore had dropped all diplomatic niceties and ticked him off. The two parted on very bad terms.
That night, the Headmaster came back to Hogwarts. I have never seen him looking so very old and tired. I saw him walking along the corridor, his head low. "Headmaster" said I. "There is nothing I can do" he sighed. "Do you really think he is innocent, Headmaster" I said with a trace of anger in my voice. It was not a question. It was a statement. "Hermione, as much as I know how you hated Draco Malfoy, my judgement tells me the boy is not a murderer."
He added "But the evidence is against him. There is nothing more I could do for him. I have lived a long time, and seldom do I have regrets. But I think this will be the greatest regret of my life. First Sirius Black, now Draco Malfoy." And the wise old man turned and walked away.
I was left standing alone. I felt empty. Dumbledore's words had struck me. I do not know what to think. But I know the Headmaster is never wrong. I made up my mind. I had to see Draco Malfoy.
The journey to Azkaban was sheer torture. You can't apparate there. You have to take a old dingly boat from Cornwall to Azkaban. I can see it now. Amidst the grey skys and pounding waves, I could see the rocky island. In the middle of a fiery Cornish sea. That is Azkaban.
I pulled my robe closer. God, this place is freezing cold. One of the Aurors eyed me warily before stretching out his hands. I tried to look at composed as possible, but I was quite shaken by the journey. I dipped into my purse and pulled out my authorization papers. He scanned through it, before using his wand to counter-sign on them, and pushed the wet papers back in my hands.
I was led through a dark, damp corridor. This place looks more like a dungeon that a prison. Even the worst muggle prisons look better than this. And it stinks badly.
The Auror stopped in front of a small cell and said "Ten minutes" shortly before turning his back and stomping out.
This must be Malfoy's cell. I peered in through the rusty bars. I was shocked. I never saw a more tragic sight in my life.
Malfoy is huddled in one corner. He looked dazed. His grey eyes, which used to sparkle maliciously, especially when he was taunting me, now looked dead, so lifeless that it scares me. His hands were limp by his side, and I could see bruises on them. His silver-blond hair, now sticking onto his hollow checks, looked at if they had not been washed in months.
There is vomit on the floor. Merlin, he's sitting on his own vomit. And, that looked like blood in the vomit.
I put my hand to my mouth. Suddenly, I feel nauseous. "Malfoy……" I whispered hoarsely.
There was no response. I tried again. "Malfoy……" He looked up and his eyes met mine. Suddenly like a jaguar, he sprang to the bars, and he caught my hand. "Father, you're here. Father get me out, Father." He was screaming pleadingly at me. And his dirty nails dug forcefully into my flesh.
I cried out in pain. The Auror spun around and started to use a spike to hit Malfoy's hand. "No" I shouted in horror. "Don't hit him!"
Malfoy howled in pain and tumbled backwards. He skidded on his vomit and hit his head on the floor.
"Malfoy!"
I stretched out one hand into the cell. But it was too late. He was unconscious.
Author's Note: Actually, to be honest, I have absolutely no idea where this story is going. I was supposed to be working on my other story. I can't believe I just spun off another fiction just like that. But I can't help it. I just feel the need to type and out it comes. Now I think to think of the next chapter………and I realised I don't have a plot! Thou inspiration, where are you?!