The Dream Trilogy Book One: To Dwell On Dreams (A Harry Potter FanFiction)

Chapter Forty Seven

Chapter Forty Seven

Harry had expected to land in the foyer of the Ministry, like he had done over the summer, but instead he fell out of a single fireplace onto a red carpet that ran down a short white marble corridor. Waist high gold posts, connected with a thick red chord, ran along either side of him until the end of the corridor, where there stood a very tidy desk on a crossroads. There were sleepy portraits of previous Ministers hanging from the walls.  

A short little man in his fifties with a head that would have belonged more on a gnome sat at the desk. He looked incredulous as Harry regained his balance then walked hurriedly towards him. "Erm, excuse me!" he said in a nasally voice, hefting up his robes as he stood. "That fireplace is reserved for Hogwarts staff only!" 

"And where do you think I came from," said Harry, more abrasively than he meant to. He reached the end of the corridor and looked up and down. "I need to see the Minister, it's urgent." But before the man even started his reply Harry could see where he was, and couldn't believe his luck. There were two other fireplaces down identical corridors, in front and to his left, with plaques that said 'Foreign Dignitaries' and 'The Ministry Foyer' respectfully. The one behind him unsurprisingly read 'Hogwarts School'. The short corridor to his right ended with a door, and this plaque was quite a bit bigger and read 'Cornelius Fudge, Minister of Magic.' 

"You are not a teacher you are a student," said the gnome man pointedly, rushing around his desk and standing between Harry and the door. "You are absolutely not authorised to be here!"  

"McGonagall authorised me," he said distractedly, ignoring the man and heading for the door. Rather than try and stop him, the man spun around and activated what Harry guessed to be some sort of communications device. 

"Minister," the man snapped petulantly into a miniature gramophone. "Harry Potter is here demanding to see you." Harry spun around and looked at him. 

"So you know who I am?" he said, curious more than anything, but the man just scowled and listened for his response. 

Harry heard the Minister clear his throat. "And what," said the tinny voice slowly. "Does Mr Potter want?" 

The man raised his eyebrows and held his hand out, the other on his hip, indicating Harry should reply. Harry moved closer a step and raised his voice. "To talk about Sirius Black," he said. He felt a surge of confidence roll through him. He'd seen unimaginable horrors in the last few hours, things that would never stop haunting him. A couple of bureaucrats weren't going to scare him off. 

"Call security," came the contrite voice. Harry lunged for the gramophone.  

"What are you frightened of, Fudge?" Harry breathed into the device as a delighted gnome man whizzed a paper memo into the flames that led to the rest of the Ministry. "Afraid to let anyone defend a man that's never had a trial, that's been set up from the start? I'm sure Rita Skeeter would love to run a story on that, don't you think? I'm sure that would go down a treat in your opinion polls." 

There was a crackle at the end of the line. He really didn't want to have to attempt to break down the door, he was sure it wouldn't end well. 

Just when Harry was sure he wasn't going to answer, Fudge cleared his throat. "Very well," he said, much to gnome man's dismay. "You have five minutes, then I'm handing you over to security." 

The door to his office clicked open, and before he could change his mind, or his receptionist could stop him, Harry fired himself at the door, pulled it open and jumped into the office.  

Harry closed the door, shutting out the bright light from the marbled corridor and plunging the office into gloom. Fudge's walls were covered almost solely with his accolades; photos populated by himself shaking hands with famous celebrities and politicians, certificates of education and achievement, thank you letters from grateful patrons.  

"Hello Harry," said the Minister pleasantly from behind his desk. "Dumbledore has been in quite a state as to your whereabouts these past couple of days, he will be delighted to know you are here and safe." There was a touch of mocking in his tone that didn't pass Harry by. He couldn't be sure, but if he had to guess he'd say that Fudge would be as unhelpful as possible in a missing persons investigation concerning him. 

Harry gritted his teeth and sat in the chair opposite Fudge's. "I'm here to talk about your completely unfair imprisonment and sentencing of my godfather." 

Fudge looked uncomfortable. "Sirius Black is a murderer, Harry," he said, almost sympathetically. "He murdered your parents, or have you forgotten that?" 

"Says who?" Harry demanded. "I know you never gave him a trail, Barty Crouch Senior wanted to distance himself from his son's betrayal so he made an example of him." 

Fudge's eyes narrowed angrily. "Harry, this is not the first time you have implicated upstanding members of our community to me. You need to watch yourself. Your claims regarding He-Who-Must-Not be named this summer have verged on lunacy, and-!" he continued as Harry started to shout over him, "I have always questioned your participation in Black's escape from Hogwarts School the summer previous! I seem to remember then you tried to tell us all some tall tale about Black, I flattered you it was some sort of residual effect from a curse of Black's, but - perhaps not." 

Harry stared at him a moment. "What's wrong with you?" he said, trembling in anger. "Would you rather be right than save people's lives!" 

Fudge leant forward on his desk, barely suppressing the curl on his lip. "The facts are right in front of us, Mr Potter, whether you like them or not. I can't imagine what your problem is quite frankly, he is responsible for the death of your parents." 

Harry shook his head disbelievingly. "What facts," he whispered. "Did you even ask him what happened? Peter Pettigrew betrayed my parents and Peter Pettigrew brought You-Know-Who back!" 

"You expect him to tell the truth do you Mr Potter?" replied Fudge, getting irritated. "He is a murderer, plain and simple." 

"I'm afraid plain and simple doesn't work nowadays," said Harry, rising to his feet. There was a knock on the door as someone, probably security, called to see if the Minister was alright. "I don't actually know who's more dangerous," Harry continued, staring Fudge down. "At least everyone knows Voldemort's the bad guy." Fudge flinched at the use of the Dark Lord's name. 

"How dare you say that word!" he hissed. "I have had enough of your nonsense." He reached forward across his desk, perhaps to use the intercom, perhaps to release the door, but Harry's arm shot out in an instant, seizing his hand before he reached his target. 

"I don't care if you believe me that Voldemort is back, because he is and you will realise it soon enough." He reached into his pocket with his spare hand, feeling the photograph as he did, then pulled out the phial of Veritaserum he had taken from Snape's cupboard. 

"But I do care about my godfather, and I won't let you get away with this." The guards were really pounding on the door now, and Harry could see Fudge's eyes flicking towards them. He turned over his hand, getting the Minister's attention, and placed the truth serum into his palm.  

"Now," said Harry, looming over Cornelius Fudge. "Are you going to prove Sirius' innocence, or am I?"