THE LUDOVICO TECHNIQUE

Chapter 1 - Favours

Hermione Granger had been working for the Ministry ever since she finished her seventh (actually eighth, and possibly more if one counted the borrowed Time-Turner hours) year at Hogwarts—thus, it would be nine years this May-and she was incredibly bored. Not with the wizarding world, mind you—she still found herself randomly captivated and amazed by magic at random moments—but with her job at the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, because it was pointless. She'd accomplished nothing that she'd hoped to accomplish; rather, she'd become quite proficient at copying parchment and feigning interest in the myriad meetings which infected her regular work day. House-elves were still essentially enslaved (although they could, if they wished, work at temporary placements through the Agency in Carkitt Market). Werewolves were still discriminated against, although the Wolfsbane Potion had been repeatedly refined and was more effective than it ever had been. Centaurs were still centaurs, and she was vehemently opposed to them being dealt with as a part of her department (although she didn't work in that specific office). Finally, she had done her level best to avoid anything to do with goblins, as she was positive (based on the frosty reception she received whilst banking on Diagon Alley) that they were still holding a grudge against her.

And so it was that when the monthly Positions Open circular flew into her (tiny) office and landed on her (piled high, yet organized) desk, she actually looked at it for once, rather than binning it. And before she could really think much about it, she copied her CV and tapped it with her wand to fold it and send it winging toward the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.

She received a memo within fifteen minutes that she was scheduled for an interview the next morning with Gawain Robards, the Department Head—because, despite the ennui and annoyances of the past ten years—she was still one-third of the Golden Trio, not that she found that fame to be more than a bother, most days. Thus, she decided to take the morning off from her current job and have a bit of a lie-in and take stock of things. She loved her Charing Cross flat—it was convenient to Diagon Alley and not that far from the Ministry (although she used the Floo to commute, unless it was a pleasant day). She loved her friends—she, Harry, Ginny, Neville, Hannah, Luna, George, Angelina and Lee spent most weekends together in varying combinations having drinks and dinner parties, playing games, and attending Quidditch matches. Her love life was currently nonexistent, but after she and Ron had an rather unpleasant break-up two years previous because he'd pushed her too hard toward an engagement, she was fine with casual dating—she'd even given Cormac another try, although he'd not improved much with age. Ron, she'd heard, had recently gone to work at WWW; if he'd still been an Auror, she would have avoided the DMLE.

All in all, she was optimistic about her chances of being hired—the job actually sounded intriguing—it was head of a new office called Offender Rehabilitation, and she (if she got the position) would be working alongside a Mind Healer from St Mungo's in an administrative capacity, and get to hire other office functionaries. The position description had been rather vague as to which offenders would be subject to rehabilitation, but there was a brief mention of Statute of Secrecy violations—for the last ten years, these had been the most egregious crimes publicized in the DMLE column in the Prophet once a week.

An hour later, caffeinated, cleaned and clad in her regular work-day robes (which looked a lot like an elaborate business suit), she arrived on Level 2 and entered the reception area, which she'd never visited before. Harry (and Ron) usually met her in the café for lunch or came to her as the always-chaotic Auror Office wasn't conducive to private conversations. The witch at the reception desk had her sign in and informed her that she was rather early and that Mr Robards would be with her shortly. She was the only one waiting. There was a row of uncomfortable-looking chairs, a battered table with old copies of the Prophet, Witch Weekly, and Transfiguration Today, a large sign featuring the DMLE logo, and rows and rows of portraits, featuring DMLE Department Heads from 1707 to the present. As she was not interested in the stale reading material, she remained standing and examined the portraits, starting with Ulick Gamp (who was asleep), and continuing on through Torquil Travers (who sneered at her), Bartemius Crouch, Sr., (who squinted down at a stack of painted parchment and ignored her), Amelia Bones (who looked rather stern with her iron-grey hair and monocle, but smiled at Hermione), Pius Thicknesse (who looked rather sheepish and didn't meet her eyes), an empty frame with 1997-1998 on a placard under it, and finally a placard reading Current Department Head, 1998 – present, Gawain Robards, with a wizarding photograph of him above it.

Just then, the receptionist called her and she was escorted to Robards' office. It was, of course, larger and more elaborate than hers, and featured a bay window overlooking the Ministry Atrium. There was an Axminster rug, a row of packed bookshelves, and a sizable mahogany desk with a leather chair behind it and two leather side chairs in front of it. Mr. Robards was tall, with reddish-brown hair, a neatly-trimmed beard, and square-framed silver spectacles. He was wearing robes that looked a lot like a frock coat (which was the unofficial uniform of senior Ministry officials). There was a gold DMLE tie tack on his cravat. He smiled at her, shook her hand, sat at his desk, glanced at her CV, and after a short exchange of pleasantries, told her that the position was hers and he hoped that she could start within the month.

"Er, Mr Robards, don't you wish to ask me any questions about my current position or employment history?"

"No, I've already spoken to Diggory; he'll be sorry to lose you, but he gave his highest recommendation of your abilities."

"Well then," she said, "I accept." He stood up and shook her hand once again and began to escort her toward the door.

Just as she was about to bid him good morning and head down to her office to draft her resignation letter, she turned to him. "Mr Robards, why is the 1997-1998 portrait not on the wall out there?" Of course, she was fairly sure of the reason, but she wanted to hear the official position.

He paused, and frowned a bit. "We do not wish to acknowledge the participants in that regime, Miss Granger. I would have rather thought that you'd understand that, more than most."

"But if you're not acknowledging them, then why not remove Pius Thicknesse as well, and Bartemius Crouch….he might, after all, have driven his son to participation—and while you're at it, take down Torquil Travers, Perseus Parkinson, Damocles Rowle and Radolphus Lestrange from the Ministers Portrait Gallery," she said.

"Thicknesse was Imperiused," Robards said. "Crouch was murdered; and the rest of them are from the distant past."

"I'm aware of that," she said. He turned back to his desk and reached for a thick folder. "And it's rather ironic you should bring that up, because the subject of that missing portrait, Yaxley, has volunteered to be one of the first participants in the rehabilitation programme, along with his close associate, Dolohov, and several other of their confederates."

"But—I thought this office was concerned with, er, re-educating witches and wizards who'd violated the Statute of Secrecy?"

"You surely don't think we're going to test an experimental programme on accidental trespassers, many of whom are first offenders, do you?"

"What exactly is involved in this experimental programme?"she asked, as she glanced at the folder in his hands. The picture on it was surely not one that the former DMLE Head would have wanted immortalized on the wall, as he had a black eye, his hair was jagged as if it had been shorn off, and he was wearing torn and bloody Death Eater robes.

"Do you wish to decline the job offer, Miss Granger?"

"I didn't say that."

"It's classified; you will receive the details when you take the post." Robards tossed the folder back on his desk and said, "And I didn't wish to have my picture next to him. Good day, Miss Granger—I look forward to seeing you in a few weeks."

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AUTHOR'S NOTES:

For those who read "Love For Tender," this fic is about the 'lengthy re-education programme,' of course. However, it's an AU of an AU—Hermione will not be paired with Yaxley in this one; she will (most likely if I can get him to co-operate) be paired with Dolohov. (Antonin fans rejoice.)

The Ludovico Technique is from "A Clockwork Orange."

Further chapters will receive their titles from the song "Favours" by the Delgados.

Fancasts: Hermione Granger and all her Gryffindor/Hufflepuff pals are as depicted in the films, as is Yaxley. Gawain Robards is being played by Sam Heughan. I'm debating about Dolohov currently.