A/N: Sorry this chapter wasn't up earlier. I had a little bit of writer's block. Thanks to everyone who reviewed.
Wrongful Imprisonment:
That's The Way the World Is Now
Chapter Four: The Temporary Minister of Magic
One of the Healers bustling around with potion vials turned around quickly. "Mr. Potter! You spoke!"
"Harry," he repeated in the same raspy voice. "Come here."
Harry walked cautiously over to him. He brushed Harry's hair away with the side of one hand. "You have her eyes," he whispered.
The Healer had grabbed a piece of parchment and a quill, and was quickly writing everything that was being said. For a few seconds, the only sound in the room was the scratching of her quill.
Harry looked at his father. Looked into the eyes that had formed into long, gray tunnels. And he couldn't say anything. Not because he didn't have anything to say. He had so many things to say. Things he wanted to ask. But something compelled him to keep his mouth shut. It was because he was afraid. No Gryffindor courage to fall back on now.
He felt perfectly brave when put in life-or-death situations, but things like that had been a constant in his life. He realised what he was afraid of. He was afraid of change. He was afraid that things would be so different if his father got better. Would they be for the better? He wouldn't know…he'd never had a parent before.
He opened his mouth to say something, but found that his mouth was dry, and he was unable to construct any words. He wanted to say something meaningful. The only problem was finding out what that would be.
"I-I'm Harry Potter," he finally managed to say. He immediately berated himself for doing so. He's your father! He knows what your name is! He said it five minutes ago!
The corners of his father's lips turned into a small smile, but it didn't last very long, as if his face had grown unaccustomed to smiling.
"You've grown so tall. You're so much like your mother," he said so quietly it was hard to hear him
That was different. People always said that he looked like his father. James—his father—stared at something on the wall Harry could not see. The healer clucked to herself, her long, narrow, nose nearly touching the parchment she wrote on.
Harry stood there uncomfortably, averting his gaze to look at his sneakers. He couldn't say anything, yet he didn't need to. He had pretty much summed up what he though of himself in one sentence.
"Moony." James stated suddenly, turning to look at Harry. Harry tried to look away. He didn't like looking into those haunted eyes. In their depths he could see shadows dancing on tunnel walls.
"Professor Lupin's outside." Harry replied, gesturing to the ward door.
"Outside," James stated, turning to the healer. "Moony's outside."
The healer turned to Harry, and opened her mouth to ask a question when the ward door opened. In walked Remus, with a tall, dark skinned wizard. He was bald, and had a shiny scalp. In one ear was a round gold earring.
Remus looked around the room. The first person he saw was Harry, who was staring at Kingsley. He stepped in front of him and announced smoothly, "Harry, this is Kingsley Shacklebolt."
Harry nodded in acknowledgement, looking Kingsley up and down.
Then, he saw James. And Remus felt his heart freeze. James turned his head to look at Remus. That was when Remus first saw his face. It was horrible, (not that he looked that great himself).
"Moony," he whispered slowly.
"Prongs."
James started to shake uncontrollably. Remus moved forward, but both the Healer and Kingsley held him back, holding onto the back of his patched robes. He tried to keep moving, but found that—he read the nametag on the Healer's white robes—that Fiona and Kingsley were too strong for him.
This meant that there was no one there to hold Harry back. He leapt forward, nearly tripping over the bottoms of his large jeans and laid a hand on James's shoulder. James did not stop shaking. His face was white and his eyes were dull and blank, two gray stones.
Harry withdrew his hand after a few seconds. He took a slow step backwards. Then he asked fearfully, "Dad?"
James stopped shaking suddenly, as if someone had slammed on the breaks at the last possible moment. He looked up, and saw Harry's fearful face. "Harry?" he asked.
"It's alright Ja-- dad," Harry said soothingly, the way one might reassure a young child.
"I saw her." James said flatly, having made no indication of having heard Harry. Fiona let go of Remus's robes and dipped the quill in her left hand into an inkpot, and retrieved her piece of parchment and started scribbling furiously on it.
"There was blue light," he continued. Remus and Harry turned to look at each other. Kingsley, however, was listening to James intently. What was going on?
"And there was screaming," he said.
Fiona dipped her quill into the inkpot again. She sat down in a nearby wooden chair, and continued writing.
"And it was all my fault."
Fiona raised an eyebrow. "It is not your fault, Mr. Potter. The Ministry have found He Who Must Not Be Named to be guilty of the crimes you were convicted for." She said this slowly and softly, as if she was unsure how James would take the information. Her amber brown eyes looked curious.
"It took them long enough--," he stated, looking Fiona straight in the eyes. She shivered slightly, her shoulders quivered. In those eyes, she saw a man haunted.
Kingsley interrupted. "Actually, it's not the fault of the Ministry. It's actually the fault of Cornelius Fudge," he said in his deep voice. He absent-mindedly tapped his foot on the floor.
James stared at Kingsley in disbelief. "If the French attacked England, it would be the fault of France, even though the actual civilians were not involved. In the Ministry's case it's worse, since they elected the Minister. It's their fault he's Mister for Magic, so therefore the entire Ministry is at fault, not only F—the Minister."
Harry noticed how his father faltered when he had tried to say Fudge's name.
Fiona lifted her head up from the parchment. "Anything else?"
James remained silent.
"Can I ask a question?" Remus asked.
Fiona nodded, some of her light brown hair falling into her face. She looked at James, who was staring unblinkingly at the ceiling, as if he was trying to count how many cracks there was in the ceiling. She turned to look at Remus and Kingsley. She set her parchment and quill down on the nearby bench. Kingsley sat down in the other chair, facing Fiona. He looked to Fiona then James, then Fiona again.
"Are dogs allowed in the wards?" Remus asked, thinking of Sirius. He wouldn't be able to transform, especially if there was a Healer in the room, but seeing Sirius (Even if it only was in his dog form) may help James. James confused him. He had always confused him, James was a very complicated person, but now he seemed to be confusing him even more. At some points he seemed…normal…but no one was completely normal after being to Azkaban. Not even Sirius. He tried his best, but he was still a wanted convict, albeit an innocent one, living in his mother's house at the age of thirty-five.
"Under hospital policy, no animals are allowed on hospital premises at any given time." Fiona replied. "And—" she was interrupted by a loud rapping noise at the door.
"Who could that be?" Harry asked aloud. James's gaze came off the ceiling and instead resided on the door.
Fiona walked over to the door. "Who is it?" she asked. It sounded like she was asking who was knocking at the front door of her house.
"Dolores Umbridge, temporary Minister of Magic due to Cor—Mr. Fudge's absence. I need to be let in immediately." Her voice was syrupy sweet, but sounded rather haughty at the same time.
"I am sorry, but hospital policy states that only blood relatives are allowed to visit Mr. Potter," Fiona replied.
Remus looked at the door as well when he heard the name Umbridge. Wasn't she the one who drafted the anti-werewolf legislation? The woman who tagged up those Merepeople?
"So how does that explain me seeing—she whispered to someone next to her—Remus Lupin enter this ward along with Kingsley Shacklebolt?"
"It is permissible for a non-related person to visit if a patient asks for them directly." Fiona replied coolly.
"I am the Minister of Magic—"
"And if that's the way you behave, I cannot wait until the day the Ministry appoints the permanent Minister. Preferably not one that acts like a two-year-old child."
"I cannot wait until the day the whole Ministry is replaced with a better system." James said so quietly that only Harry heard him. Harry smiled slightly. The Ministry was alright, in his eyes, butthe problem was merely the people within it. Such as Cornelius Fudge, who had been denying Voldemort's return until today. Now people doubted every word he ever said.
"You should treat me with proper respect!" Umbridge squealed, her voice losing its sugary tones. "Let me in at once!"
"The door's open." Kingsley stated from his place in the chair. He was obviously enjoying the whole thing a bit too much. He had been watching the events as if it was a soap opera.
The knob turned, and on the other side of the door was Dolores Umbridge. She was wearing a fluffy pink cardigan with a matching bow in her mousy brown hair. Next to her was a sheepish looking Tonks. Umbridge had Tonks's wrist tightly in her hand, and looked as if she'd been dragged all the way from the waiting room. Fiona was seething. Just because the door was unlocked didn't mean to open it.
Fiona turned around for a second to pick up her wand which she had left on the bench. Everyone else's attention was focused on Umbridge. In the corner of her eye she saw someone lying unconscious on the floor.
She screamed.
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A/N: Well that sounds odd, doesn't it? Well not really. Review responses on my bio page soon, maybe tomorrow, since my mum just told me to go to bed.