WIZENGAMOT TO RELEASE SOME DEATH EATERS!
Last night, the Wizengamot met for a Special Assembly, initiated by the Minister for Magic himself, Kingsley Shacklebolt. It opened at 8pm and closed at 2am. Once again, the Daily Prophet had the honour of interviewing some members of the Wizengamot, allowing us to relay key information from the meeting.
According to the Assembly's spokesperson, the Minister for Magic once again called for a review of the conditions of incarceration of Azkaban's prisoners, including those of the remaining Death Eaters. However, he had in fact taken the opportunity for his Senior Undersecretary, Elphias Doge, to put a perfectly constructed new bill on the table.
Elphias Doge, who had been a member of the Wizengamot for many years before Voldemort's rise, announced earlier this year that this would be his last term in the Assembly and at Minister Shacklebolt's side. While some were disappointed with this news, considering the man a pillar of the Wizengamot, many were delighted that he would retire, considering his unwavering support for the remaining members of the Order of the Phoenix, including the famous Harry Potter.
However, while many had thought that a bill concerning more favourable conditions for prisoners in Azkaban would be set aside in favour of tougher sentencing, things turned out to be very different on this Thursday evening.
After hours of negotiations, deliberations and amendments, the Assembly spokesperson was able to announce the precise content of the law that was finally voted on by the Wizengamot. According to him, the former members of the Order of the Phoenix had joined forces with the conservatives for the first time, in order to counter the so-called "anti-pardon". The bill passed, after some adjustments:
"Starting in September 2004, any marked Death Eater sentenced to twenty years' imprisonment or less, and who has been incarcerated for a minimum of seven years, will be eligible for release under these conditions:
The criminal must leave the UK permanently, with no exceptions, upon release from Azkaban;
The criminal must marry a Muggle-born, a Squib or a Muggle who is aware of the existence of the wizarding world, by magical union. The spouse must make an Unbreakable Vow, promising to vouch for the criminal's good behaviour and redemption;
The criminal must reside with the spouse for a period of at least five years. If a divorce is sought, it will only be granted after the original sentence of imprisonment has been served;
As well, the criminal will receive the Magical Trace for a minimum period of five years. At that time, The Wizengamot will decide whether or not to remove the Magical Trace, based on good behaviour of the criminal. In addition, the prisoner will no longer be allowed to use magical transports (apparating, portkeys, brooms, flying carpets, magical creatures, floo travel, etc.);
A fine of five thousand gallons will have to be paid for each year of detention that has been added to the minimum sentence obtained by the marked Death Eaters".
From the discussions our reporters intercepted following the Assembly, many conservative members of The Wizengamot insist that the magical population needs to rebuild itself and that these marriages would be the perfect opportunity to do so.
Members of the Order of the Phoenix reportedly expressed confidence that the law would bring about considerable change. They do not regret the rare alliance with the Conservative Party, which they believe is necessary for the proper functioning and democracy of our society. But is this alliance a good thing?
Most of the so-called "anti-pardon" members refused the questions asked by our journalists. Some 'neutral' members of the Assembly urge continued vigilance in regards to the relatives of Death Eaters' families, or in the streets of the wizarding world, in case of protests.
The last words to the journalists were spoken by the Minister of Magic himself, who was quoted as saying that the Ministry would itself ensure that the law would be respected for all those concerned.
Times are changing, dear readers...
Mary Scoford,
Editor-in-Chief of the Daily Prophet."
oOo
Blaise and Pansy were sitting on their sofa facing the same three issues of the Daily Prophet. They were silent, both stunned by such an announcement. No one had expected it, apart from the Order of the Phoenix members close to Elphias Doge and Kingsley Shacklebolt.
Pansy was serving them a cup of tea when the front door flew open with a bang. She reflexively drew her wand, dropping the teapot in the process, which exploded on the floor. Blaise rose abruptly and had his wand aimed at the entrance already. Their hearts were pounding.
"The law's passed!" Harry exclaimed as he burst into the living room. "It's in the Pro–"
He cut off mid-sentence as he saw them standing ready to duel. A rush of guilt came over him as he understood the fear that must have gone through his two friends at his abrupt entrance. He raised his hands to the sky, a sorry look on his face.
"It's me, it's all right," he said sheepishly.
Pansy slowly lowered her wand, her hands trembling. Her eyes filled with terror as she stood completely frozen with fear.
Blaise did the same and sighed, running a hand over his face, looking utterly overwhelmed as well.
"I-I'll make another pot of tea," his wife murmured in a quavering voice.
She started to pick up the pieces of china as best she could despite her shaking. She was completely turned around and a huge weight had settled in her stomach. She felt nauseous and her head was spinning.
"Let me help you," Harry said in a low voice, taking a few cautious steps towards her.
"No!" she snapped, letting everything fall back onto the tray.
Her shaking only increased and Harry stopped, horrified. He hadn't meant to trigger her.
Pansy was frozen with terror, her whole body overcome with adrenaline. She could hear her blood rushing in her ears. Her breath was coming in quick bursts. She was hit with pins and needles starting to work upwards from her fingers and toes. Her vision started to get blurry.
"Leave it, Pans', I'll deal with it. Here. Go splash some water on your face," Blaise whispered to her, as he kneeled beside her.
She swallowed hard and nodded, with closed eyes and clenched fists she counted to ten focusing on her breathing. She had to, in order to keep her feet on the ground.
Everything was fine. She was at home, with her husband. Nobody was attacking. It was only Potter. Only Potter.
After a few minutes of slow breathing, she straightened up and dashed to the bathroom, while Blaise was cautiously gathering the china on the ground.
A deathly silence took place.
Blaise was confused, torn between anger and worry. He had also been startled by Potter's sudden entrance in their home.
Contrary to his wife, he hadn't lived so close to the war, thanks to his mother's neutrality, but that didn't mean he didn't suffer from anxiety. He had participated in the final battle, he had seen the corpses, the wounded and had fought like others.
Blaise had suffered from both sides' curses in the midst of the battle.
He had had to dodge the Death Eaters who wanted him to join their cause. He had moved multiple times with his mother to avoid the snatchers attacks, who had been told to find them.
Eventually, he had fought with Draco, after joining Pansy, who had contacted him a few weeks before the battle. He had fought for his friends without really knowing why. He wasn't against the Order. He wasn't with Voldemort. He had fought body and soul for Draco, Theo and Pansy. He had been by their side constantly, unable to bear the idea of losing them.
He had been so surprised by the arrival of Potter and the beginning of the battle that he couldn't spare a moment's thought to think about choosing a side, regardless of his personal values. He just wanted to survive, that's all. Well, that and to survive with his friends.
And they had lived through the war.
Harry was standing in the middle of the living room, switching his weight from one foot to the other. He didn't know where to stand, so ashamed of the trouble he caused Pansy.
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to–"
"Don't be," Blaise cut him off. He used his wand to vanish the last pieces of the teapot and to clean the tea that spilled the carpet. "However, next time, try not to enter people's house shouting, Potter."
"I promise," he replied immediately and nodded. "It won't happen again."
Blaise stood up and quickly measured him with his eyes, before walking to the kitchen. He knew his friend didn't have bad intentions, however, the fact that Harry had been stupid enough to barge into their home, unannounced and yelling, frustrated him.
What did Harry think? That they were going to receive him with open arms, so happy to see him?
Bloody Gryffindors and their feelings, he thought as he walked in the kitchen.
Once Blaise was gone, Harry allowed himself to exhale the breath he hadn't realised he was holding.
He sprawled on the couch and ran his hand through his hair. He felt so bad. How could he have done such a thing, when he had had the exact same reaction as Pansy so many times?
Jumping at every noise when he was alone. Pulling out his wand every time someone screamed his name in the street. Locking the doors of Grimmauld Square several times and reinforcing the wards every night. Checking the identity of all his visitors.
How can he have been so stupid? He knew so well how terrifying it was.
He heard Blaise's low voice from the next room talking to Pansy, which reassured Harry, in a way. He hoped she would regain her composure quickly. He wanted her to.
He was bouncing his leg, unable to control it. Being alone made him remember why he was there.
The Prophet's article.
His eye caught some copies that were already spread on the coffee table. They knew about it too, then.
He grabbed a copy and scanned the front page again: an Azkaban issued motion photograph, under the headlines. The article on the law just passed by the Wizengamot was two pages long.
On top of the main description, the Prophet's reporters had interviewed some witches and wizards from different walks of life to gather their opinions. There were also two victims' testimony, one of which Harry knew too well: Dennis Creevey, who had explained in minute detail how his brother had been killed during the war. Again.
Even if Harry was sympathetic and had supported a lot of Voldemort's victims, he quickly had set Dennis against him, after the latter had decided to fight for the revenge of the war martyrs. He had joined a few radical associations, one of which was led by the "anti-pardon" flagship member, Amos Diggory. Harry had tried several times to get Dennis to realise what some of the Death Eaters had been through, but Dennis only responded by fueling the national hatred that was beginning to grow against Harry.
In his fight for truth and justice, Harry had made many enemies. Some resented him for defending those he had fought against during the war. Some considered him a traitor.
The second testimony was from Daphne Greengrass, which had especially surprised Harry. He was well aware of how withdrawn she had become and of her desire to not speak with anyone about her boyfriend, Gregory Goyle. However, she seemed to have woken up and decided to finally break her silence.
Harry had been filled with empathy when reading her testimony. She recounted the pain she had felt since Goyle's imprisonment, the horror and harassment she experienced in his absence– mainly because her relationship with him was a matter of public record –and her dismay at learning that her boyfriend was not eligible for release under the new law.
Gregory was sentenced to 23 years in prison after casting the Killing Curse several times during the final battle.
Harry had been particularly touched to read her words to the wizarding public about the battle he had been secretly leading alongside Blaise for years. Of course, she had not mentioned them explicitly, but she had supported their fight by repeating several times that the guilt of some didn't make the others guilty and that innocence had to be recognised.
Great words, to be sure.
"She's making some tea," Blaise announced as he walked back to the living room.
Harry turned his eyes to him and nodded. He still felt terribly sorry, but fought not to apologise again. Inwardly he could hear Theo's voice whispering to him that he was apologising too much. It almost drew a smile from him.
"I assume you read the article," he said, jerking his chin towards the newspapers spread across the table.
"We've been thinking about what to do since this morning," Blaise nodded as he sat down opposite him.
"I've been thinking about it too and I might have an idea."
Pansy walked into the living room at the same time, carrying a new tray of tea, which she carefully placed on the table. This time, however, she used her wand to make the teapot act on its own, and then settled herself against her husband, her head on his shoulder.
Harry didn't dare meet her gaze and merely cleared his throat before looking away to the fireplace.
"I'm going to ask Hermione to marry Theo so he can get out. Given that six years have passed and his condition has still not improved, I doubt that–"
"Wait, you are kidding, right?" interrupted Blaise with a frown. "What about Draco?"
Harry blushed under his friend's icy gaze. He'd been very selfish on this one, but he couldn't help it. All he could think about was Theo. He was all that mattered. Harry had hope again.
"Theo doesn't deserve to rot in Azkaban for fifteen years."
"Oh, because Draco does?" retorted Blaise sarcastically. "That's a good one, Potter. I'll have you know, in case you've forgotten, that Draco saved your little Chosen One's butt six years ago!"
"Don't make it all about him!"
"Make it all about him? Are you kidding me?"
"Guys, calm down," Pansy tried to intervene, to no avail.
She had put a hand on her husband's forearm, who had straightened up in anger. He pointed accusingly at Harry.
"I'll have you know that if I've been working on this bloody law for months, even years, in collaboration with assholes like Doge, who treats me like a sub-shit because I'm only a Pureblood bastard in his eyes, it's in Theo's AND Draco's interests! I thought you understood that when we started working together, Potter!"
"Don't act like you're doing all this for my benefit! Theo is your friend too! We're doing this for him, so he doesn't die in this prison because of the bloody conditions he's living in!" exclaimed Harry, standing up in turn.
"And Draco too! And I'm not going to leave him out, just because Mister Harry Potter, Saviour of Our World, would rather save his boyfriend's arse, than find a solution for everyone!"
"And what else do you want to do? Huh?! Of course I choose Theo over Malfoy when I see that there is no other possibility than Hermione! Do you know many Muggles, Muggle-borns or Squibs? Hermione is the only Muggle-born I know who would agree to marry Theo to get him out of the hell he's been living in for years! The others are all married, anti-Pardon or straight and believe me, they are not going to suddenly decide overnight that they are okay with marrying Theo or Malfoy especially, when most of them are in relationships with women! We can't work miracles!"
"I refuse to make a choice between them, Potter," Blaise scolded after a short silence, spent glaring at himself.
"Because you think I'm happy to let Malfoy rot there? Don't play dumb, Zabini," Harry spat as he walked to the window of the room.
He was seething with anger.
"As if you give a shit about Draco," Blaise muttered behind his back.
"What did you say? Say again?" Harry snapped, turning sharply, glowering.
"Potter, calm down! Both of you, calm down!" exclaimed Pansy as she stepped between them. "We're not going to find a solution by yelling at each other like that! For Merlin's sake, act like adults! You sound like two prepubescent boys who can't have a conversation without their hormones or emotions getting in the way!"
The two men fell silent, eyes blazing into one another, jaws and fists clenched.
"Blaise, darling, sit down, please. Be reasonable," Pansy implored him as she stood in front of him, her gaze hard and determined.
After a few more seconds he sighed heavily and dropped back into the sofa, his gaze still cold and dark. Harry stood still for a moment before turning to the window again, arms folded across his chest.
"First of all, I don't think we should rush into anything about Granger," Pansy resumed in a calmer voice, "I doubt she'll agree to marry anyone when she hardly allows anyone into her house and refuses to leave France. We have to find another solution."
"I'll convince her," Blaise and Harry replied in unison.
Pansy held back a smile and spoke again.
"As for the rest, I think I have an idea..."
oOo
Hermione was determined that morning. She had made the decision the day before that she would refurbish the farm's stable. For pleasure, of course. She had no ambition to welcome anyone other than Albert under her roof. However, she was becoming increasingly unhappy with being surrounded by dilapidated buildings.
Armed with her wand, she left her house and headed for the stable, determined not to let her magic overtake her that day.
The sky was blue, the day had just begun and a light wind tickled the strands of hair sticking out of her bun.
She had just taken a Calming Draught to avoid being disturbed by any panic attacks. This was her daily routine.
She prepared a large quantity of it every week, so that she could drink it when she felt it was necessary. Sometimes she even had to make another batch during the week. At other times, she made too much and kept the excess in a storeroom in the attic.
According to her calculations, she drank an average of two a day.
This, of course, did not include the Dreamless Sleeping potions she drank every night.
However, despite her undoubted talent in brewing Hermione had begun to feel the effects wane. Sometimes she would wake up in the middle of the night or a few nightmares would creep into her mind.
She had tried to change the recipe, to adapt it to her own biology, but it was not conclusive for the moment. So, on the nights when the potions were not fully effective, she took refuge in her books or in the warmth of Albert, who came to keep her company.
She couldn't have wished for a better companion than Albert. He accompanied her everywhere she went: to the market, to the bookshop, on her walks in the woods... He was always beside her and supported her whatever she did. He understood when she was in trouble and would rub up against her to show he was there. That was all she needed.
So when she got to the stable, she gently stroked her dog's head to give herself courage. She was not alone.
The building was rather large, which would make the task more difficult. The roof was half destroyed, the insulation in the walls was poor, the horse stalls were dilapidated and dust and dirt had invaded the floor and walls.
It was going to be a difficult job, but she was determined. Perhaps this would be a way for her to move on and to feel better.
She might have drifted away from the rest of her friends, but she was still doing her best to heal.
Albert on her heels, she opened the half-broken door to the stable and entered. She looked around at her surroundings and sighed.
"We have a lot to do, Albert," she said, placing her hands on her hips.
He only barked in response, standing beside her, wagging his tail happily.