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Ready to face the music?	By : sappysappysappy Category: Harry Potter > General > General Views: 2065 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not profit from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
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Thanks: to Krystle Bertoncin, my new Beta, for streamlining this story and cheering me along the way.

Ready To Face The Music?

First Session: Getting to know the gang

Hermione squared her shoulders and took a deep breath. This was it. At long last, her plan could begin for real. All her hard work in the Muggle universities and hospitals had paved the way here. Her friends thought she was bonkers but she was sure this was something that needed to be done. It was the right thing to do after all.

She opened the door. Was ever a therapist faced with such a Group as this? Mad, depraved and twisted like only a bunch of Death Eaters could be. But like that song went, 'We shall overcome!'

The room was bare and cold. Nothing decorated the rough stones except for a line of fitful torches around its edges and a circle of chairs in the center. It was located deep in the bowels of Azkaban prison on an island in the North Sea. She entered it confidently and sat in the only seat that did not have animated snakelike cuffs restraining its occupants.

"Good morning, Group. My name is Dr. Granger and I am here to help you feel better about yourself, adjust yourself into becoming a normal part of society and discussing any issues you might have with your childhood, your treatment by your former Lord, the vanquished Voldemort or more recently the Aurors and guards. How will this happen? We are about to engage in the wonders of Group Therapy, a technique, incidentally, invented through the revered Muggle Science of Psychotherapy. We will discuss the problems each of you have and support one another in the endeavor to solve them.

"Now each of you agreed to be cooperative and I expect to see some real progress from you if you wish to get the improved conditions of incarceration from Azkaban that were promised. If you're not interested in my help, you can go back to your cells now. Anyone?" She noted with satisfaction that no one wished to do that. Not that they could do much right now. They were all cuffed, hand and foot, to their chairs and silenced with charms.

"Then let us begin, by introducing ourselves to the rest of the Group and telling everyone a bit about ourselves. I'll start.

"My name is Dr. Hermione Jean Granger and I am a certified Psychotherapist. I like to read and learn and Do What's Right. How about you?" she asked, lifting the silencing charm from the patient immediately to her right in the circle and poising her pen over her clipboard.

"Oh, gracious lady, surely you remember poor old Peter Pettigrew?" the short, round man squeaked. "From the moment I heard of your wondrous therapy I have begged to be one of your patients. I know I am a wretch but I pray that you will find it in your heart to cure me of my afflictions and make an upright Wizard out of me as I have always craved to be." His beady eyes gleamed.

"Enough!" she spat, silencing him again. He wasn't hostile but his stark toadying was disgusting and creepy. She wrote beside his name 'Untrustworthy. Do not fall to his base flattery.'

Composing herself, she turned to the next chair.

"I'm Goyle? Er, Snape said I should be here." The heavyset man looked at her blankly.

"And what do you like to do?"

"Oh, I'm good at beating the pulp outta someone. Want me to give Wormtail a knocker?"

"That won't be necessary, Mr. Goyle." She wrote 'Looks stupid as dirt. Uses violence to solve his problems. ?Snape? - Should check the connection.'

"How about you?" she continued to the next chair.

"I'm Dolohov, you little whore. Bet you remember me. Nobody forgets me once they'd got a taste of my Wand." The burly man smiled hungrily at her, revealing a golden tooth. "The fucking Aurors fucking broke it for me, the slimy flobberworms," he shouted, spittle flying from his mouth. "Give me your Wand, whore, and I'll show you what Dolohov can do with it. I –"

Hermione silenced him with a sharp jab of her Wand. He choked convulsively, and then started silently mouthing, "Fuck, fuck, fuck…"

She wrote, 'Has a potty-mouth. Use soap?'

Hermione cleared her throat and turned to her next patient. "What about you?" she asked with false brightness.

"Don't you use that tone with me, Mudblood. I am Bellatrix, the Dark Lord's most favoured servant." Bellatrix was tall and fey, and captivating despite everything that's happened. "He will return, better and stronger than ever and he will hand you to me." She laughed wildly. "Crucio! Crucio! Crucio!"

Hermione silenced her with a shiver. Wandless and bound hand and foot to her chair, she still scared the shit out of her. She exuded such joyful certainty in her dark delusions that it made her safe real-world seem a dream by comparison. She wrote, 'Dangerous as ever. Keep a close eye on her.'

Turning her eyes resolutely away, she faced the next chair.

"Miss Granger." He acknowledged her in those cold, silky tones. "Have you forgotten me already? Tut, tut, that will never do for someone who wishes to be a Healer of the Mind." Oh, how much disdain he could infuse those few words with.

"You will state your name and… and tell us about yourself Prof-, Mr. Snape. I am Dr. Granger. That's how you're supposed to refer to me."

"Dr. Granger? But that is a Muggle term and you, Miss Granger, are a Witch, a Witch, sitting in a Magical Building in the company of Magical Beings. Or have you renounced your gift?" Tall and angular, his bird of prey beak of a nose and curtains of oily hair made him seem unchanged.

Hermione ground her teeth. She knew this was going to happen. He was questioning her authority! She lifted her clipboard to hide her face and wrote in large letters next to Mr. Snape's name, 'Insubordinate'. She underlined it several times before she put it on her knees again.

"Mr. Snape," Hermione said sternly, "all that you have said is beside the point but I will answer you this time. Psychotherapy is a Muggle Field, developed in the Muggle World using Muggle methods. Its practitioners are referred to by the title Doctor no matter whom they happen to be or where they are just as a Healer will remain a Healer if he wanders into a Muggle hospital and treats Muggle patients. Now state your name and business!"

"Oh, very well… Dr. Granger. My name is Severus Tobias Snape. But seeing as you insist on formalities… you may refer to me as Master Snape."

"Master Snape?" Hermione repeated, flabbergasted.

"Yes?"

"No!" she shouted. She was losing her control. Pettigrew was exchanging uncertain glances between Snape and her. Goyle was looking attentively at him; probably waiting for instructions on whether he wanted her softened up a little or just pulped. Dolohov was still mouthing 'fuck, fuck fuck,' but now a great big smile was smeared all over his face. She didn't even dare to look at Bellatrix. She needed to do something quick.

"Mr. Snape," she shouted. Then, clearing her throat repeated again in a quieter voice. "Mr. Snape, you may have titles in other contexts but even if they weren't stripped from you when you were sentenced for life, they are irrelevant in these meetings, unlike mine. In these meetings, I am your doctor and you are my patient just like the rest of the Group." She smiled toothily at him. "Remember that."

"Oh, very well. I am not a vain man after all." She rolled her eyes. He was certainly insolent. "So, you wish to know what I like to do, I understand. There's no harm in that, I suppose. Recently I've redeveloped my interest in the Mind. Our Healers consider ailments of the mind, unlike ailments of the body, incurable. Saint Mungo's Ward for the Incurably Insane is full of poor souls consigned to their fate as though hope were a foreign concept to the Healers. But surely, as the saying goes, where there's life there's hope and where there's Magic there's a path.

"Indeed, in the Muggle World such paths were trodden and enthused, I decided to follow them. I am currently working on my thesis and hope to soon achieve my doctorate in this fascinating field. I will not bore you with the details of it." He was mocking her!

Her hands were shaking. She couldn't write anything. She silenced him and turned to the next seat. "You."

"I am Professor Carrow," the squat man intoned. Then he giggled. "My calling is the Dark Arts. I can teach you much." His eyes gleamed at her. She wrote, 'Believes he is still a Hogwarts teacher? Fascinated by the Dark Arts.'

"And you?" she asked his sister, and the last of her patients.

"I don't have to answer to the likes of you," the curvaceous woman said dismissively, staring over her head. "I am Alecto Carrow, Mistress of the Carrows and so much above you, Mudblood, that were our roles reversed I would chop you to bits with a few Sectumseptras and feed your dirty remains to my Crups for speaking out of turn." She gave her a hungry, meaty smile.

Hermione wrote, 'Has Umbridgism.'

"Well, Group, now that we all know a little bit about each other it is time to discuss what we each hope to achieve in these sessions. I am going to lift all of the silencing charms and we will have our very first group discussion. Remember, be polite, be supportive and let me be your guide. If you misbehave too badly you will be silenced again and will not be able to take part in our discussion. Understood?" Reluctant nods were made. She lifted the Charms.

"Fuck yeah." Dolohov shouted, "Crucio!" Bellatrix crowed and "Please you," Pettigrew squeaked.

"No, no, no," Hermione shouted. "I want constructive ideas. Goyle, what do you want to get from these meetings?" He looked easy to direct and a big fellow like him would surely have no problem to be heard over this din.

"Er… I want more room for my walkies. Snape says you can get me that?"

"Yes, that's good, Mr. Goyle. But what about talking about your troubled pas-"

"I want to have fuck-'em walkies too!" Dolohov interrupted her. "And Wand wavies and-"

"I want the Longbottom brat. I want to pinch and teach and mince him some edifying lessons in screech-" Bellatrix crooned.

"Quiet!" Hermione shouted. "Improved incarceration conditions such as walking space are part of the deal we have," she explained in the sudden silence. "You have much to look forward to, assuming it's within reason of course." She didn't bother to glare at the unrepentant Dolohov and Bellatrix. "But what I was asking you is how you hope to improve yourselves through these meetings. Goyle," she addressed the large man once more. "You hope to find better ways to deal with problems than through violence, right?"

"Does that mean I can't have my walkies?" he asked in a hurt tone.

"No, it doesn’t mean any such thing."

"Oh, well then." He scratched his head on the back of his chair and drew his brows together in concentration. "Then can I have my walky now?"

Hermione gritted her teeth. Was he misunderstanding her on purpose? Surely he couldn't be that dumb. She would deal with him another time. She turned to Amycus Carrow. "You hope to gain the respect of others so you could teach them again, right?"

"I suppose so, yes." The man sounded surprised. Hermione beamed at him. Finally!

"And you. You wish to become trustworthy again, right, Peter?" she forced herself to say, and bit her tongue as soon as she finished.

"Of course, dear lady, as should we all." He turned a triumphant look to the rest of the group. "You can always trust your Peter."

"Tell it to her straight." Snape sneered from his seat.

Alecto made a khrrrek sound through her teeth. Pettigrew paled.

"What about the rest of you?" Hermione asked.

"I want to be a good nonverbal caster like Sev and Bellatrix," Dolohov replied thoughtfully. "Never could get enough zing into them silent as fuck curses." He glared at her chest. "So next time, there would be no fucking problem."

Bellatrix's eyes suddenly lit up. "I want to be prettier. I want the Dark Lord to adore me and come back for me again." Hermione eyes boggled. She could hear some snorts from the others. Bellatrix was giving them the evil eye while murmuring, "Pretty pretty pretty! I'll be so pretty pretty pretty!"

"And you? What do you hope for, Mr. Snape?" Hermione challenged her ex-professor.

"Patience? I was never much good at that, was I?" he asked her. "And of course, I must learn to contain my heart. I always had too much heart. Don't you agree, Doctor?"

Hermione tried not to snort. The man was either completely delusional or a great joker. "Of course not, Mr. Snape. Too much heart? Any less and you'd be sucking ours to fill the hole you have in your chest. 'Too much heart.' Give me a break."

Snape huffed. "Clearly you're prejudiced. I should have expected as much from one of Potter's little friends. My tender heart is a joke to you. You have wounded me."

"I'm completely objective," Hermione interjected. "My oath as a psychotherapist makes me so."

"But behind the oath lies a petty, vindictive, little girl that wants to punish me for having the heart to be an outspoken and caring teacher."

Hermione clutched her clipboard with whitened fingers. This was a travesty. "I am the doctor here. I'm the only objective person in this room!" She wouldn't let him get to her. "As your doctor I must tell you that what you lack is compassion. That is what you'll have to work on acquiring." She didn't give him a chance to reply. "What about you, Ms. Carrow?" She pointed her Wand at her like a baton.

Alecto eyed the Wand carefully. "I want nothing from you. How can a Mudblood like you do anything but degrade my mind and very magic with her base insinuations?"

"You will have to drop this attitude if you wish to improve," Hermione replied coldly. "Tolerance is what you will need to learn here."

"That's right!" Pettigrew crowed. "Don't let her put on airs, lady. Teach her foul tongue proper manners."

"That's enough, Pettigrew."

"Of course, lady. Peter is only here to help. Say the word and Peter will be overjoyed to obey. Your psychorethapy will be triumphant!" He turned to Alecto. "You'll see."

"I said that's enough." She waved her Wand, silencing Pettigrew, then the rest of them.

"Well," Hermione said brightly, "that wasn't so bad, was it? We all know what we should work on now, right? Pettigrew must work on his trustworthiness, Mr. Goyle on finding alternatives to violence, Mr. Dolohov needs to work on his language and bad manners, Bellatrix… can work on becoming prettier," Hermione said uncertainly. It sounded harmless enough and she couldn't make herself face Bellatrix's anger by suggesting anything else, not yet. She shivered. "Mr. Snape, you must work on your compassion, and patience, you don't have much of that either. Mr. Carrow, you are to work on gaining respect and your sister must work on her tolerance of others. I want you each to think in the week you have until our next meeting how to fulfill your task. When we meet, you will tell your ideas to the rest of the Group and we will discuss them and make suggestions on how to improve them.

"Remember, if you are not cooperative and make an effort to complete your tasks I will be forced to dismiss you from these meetings and you will not benefit from improved conditions in your incarceration that Azkaban promised.

"Good luck and good bye. Until next time."

She went to the door and sent the green sparkles to signal the guards that nothing bad happened and she was ready to leave.

In the room behind her seven charm-gagged cuffed ex-Death Eaters waited to be released.
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Ready to face the music?