Project 137.43.M.D.

I. | AD LITEM

I.
AD LITEM
(for this action)

The memo shot into her cubicle with such speed that she flinched in her chair.

"Bloody hell," she cursed, blushing slightly, even though there was no one around to witness her jumpiness.

She plucked the memo out of the air, unfolded it and placed it on her desk, which was cluttered with parchments and files, then leaned forward with narrowed eyes.

"For fuck's sake," she moaned, ruffling her already very ruffled head of hair. (After a long day at the Ministry of Magic, even the best Curl Taming Charm eventually wore off, but while on any other day it would have annoyed her, tonight it was probably the least of her worries.)

After re-reading the message that had reached her three more times, she grabbed her quill, shakily scribbled her signature in the space provided on the memo and raised her wand.

"Animadverto," she whispered, holding the tip of her wand to her temple so that the date would be burned deep into her mind.

15 May 2008. 11 a.m.

It was merely a precautionary measure. Even if she herself were to undergo Memory Modification, she would never forget that particular piece of information, Hermione was sure of it.

Her heart was pounding uncomfortably hard against her ribs as she watched the memo refold itself with a flick of her wand and zoom away. She immediately reached for a second piece of parchment and scribbled a few words of her own, which she sent on their way with another spell.

Of course, she had known that it would happen at some point. The prison releases had started a few days ago and now all the projects were being processed in numerical order. As far as she knew, projects twenty-nine to thirty-five had kicked off this very morning. So it shouldn't be a surprise. Not really, anyway. The notification she had just received, however, was not something she had expected.

Hermione glanced at the clock on the wall, stuffed a few files into her satchel and slung it over her shoulder. When she left the office, her knees were shaking.

***

"Did you get my message?" she asked, jumping to her feet as Harry, who looked utterly exhausted, materialised in the Burrow's fireplace. He took a large step out of the green flames, which lazily licked at him one last time before retreating back into the hearth and dying out.

"Of course," he muttered, giving his wife, who had been keeping Hermione company since she had entered the Potter family home, a gentle kiss.

A second later, Ginny was already whirling around the kitchen, which had hardly changed in all the years since Molly and Arthur had emigrated. With practised movements and a few deft flicks of her wand, she put the teakettle on and made sure that the wooden spoon in the saucepan began to move.

"I just can't believe they're making us do this, Harry," Hermione said, frowning as she followed Harry, who was obviously looking for his children, down the hallway. "Us of all people! They could have assigned us to any of them, literally any of them, but him?"

"Assigned to who?" Ginny asked curiously. "And assigned to do what?"

Harry found his sons in the living room. He gave James, who was playing on the floor and therefore barely paying attention to his father, a kiss on the head, then carefully lifted Albus out of his bassinet and hugged him to his chest. Finally, he dropped onto the sofa, stretched out his long legs and closed his eyes.

"137.43.M.D. — an offender from the rehabilitation programme," he said at long last, adjusting his round glasses on his nose.

"A Death Eater, then," Ginny sighed, leaning against the doorframe and folding her arms as she waited patiently for further explanation.

Of course, Ginny knew which offenders were part of the rehabilitation programme. With Hermione having worked for the Wizengamot Administrative Service for years, now even in the OSAR, and Harry having climbed the Auror Office career ladder at breathtaking speed after graduating, she was very familiar with all the responsibilities and, more importantly, duties of the DMLE, despite not being employed by the Ministry. And based on today's date alone, she could calculate for herself which releases from Azkaban were imminent.

Harry nodded slowly, grimacing as if he had a massive headache. Hermione couldn't blame him. When their eyes met, her own discomfort was clearly reflected in his expression.

"And what's the trouble?" Ginny asked laconically, raising an eyebrow at their silent exchange.

"Decree 137 of the Offender Rehabilitation Act states—"

"Hermione, Ginny knows the decree," Harry reminded her kindly.

Hermione fell silent, pressing her lips together and trying not to look too offended. Harry ignored her facial play and shifted his attention back to Ginny.

During their conversation, Albus had snuggled even closer to Harry's chest, but he was still fast asleep. Hermione envied the youngest Potter offspring. Sleeping was something she would also love to do in the upcoming night, but would most likely not be able to. The information she had received was far too harrowing.

She took a deep breath and tried to calm down a little while she let her best friend explain. Unlike her, Harry had a talent for summarising events succinctly.

"I'm the one to Obliviate him," he said.

Ginny shrugged, looking rather unimpressed.

Hermione thought she knew what her friend was thinking. It had been clear that this would happen to Harry at some point — perhaps even several times. After all, there were many offenders whose sentences ended this year, and therefore many prison releases to be carried out and supervised. This was no surprise.

"The project number consists of three components. Firstly, the decree number, which specifies what happens after imprisonment. Decree 137. The following number refers to the order of convictions after the end of the war."

"So Convict 43?"

When Ginny caught on immediately, Harry nodded with a small smile.

"And the last two letters are the offender's initials. That's the Bowtruckle in the ointment: M.D."

He closed his eyes and sighed deeply.

This time, Ginny didn't seem to be able to draw the connection straight away. She bent down and took the sleeping Albus from Harry's arms, her lips forming the letters M and D over and over again. Finally, she gave up, rolling her eyes.

"Spit it out, Harry Potter," she demanded impatiently, nudging him with her stockinged toes.

"Decree 137. Convict 43. Malfoy, Draco."

Ginny stared at her husband, now actually looking a bit like Hermione had been feeling all afternoon. She absently patted Albus' back, which seemed to be more for her own comfort though, as the baby still hadn't made a peep. After processing the information for a while, she squared her shoulders and put on a deliberately dismissive expression.

"But you only have to Obliviate him, don't you?" she asked, apparently uncomprehending. "So what? That's the easiest part of the job, Harry. He's served his sentence for being a Death Eater. Personally, I think ten years is ridiculously short, but that's exactly why his memory will be wiped, isn't it?"

Hermione sighed. She would have been only too happy to agree.

"Well, I also received a notification today," she added quietly.

Now that Harry was no longer holding a child, she flopped down next to him, pushing him aside. He grumbled something under his breath, but made room for her anyway.

Hermione looked up at Ginny and pursed her lips.

"I was appointed as a Mentor. For Inmate 43.M.D."

The whistling of the teakettle was the only sound that broke the silence.

***

A/N: Oh, this is going to be so much fun! We have lots of twists, turns and surprises ahead of us and I can't wait to share them all with you. I'm always open to constructive criticism and would be delighted to receive kudos and comments. Hugs to everyone reading. ♡