"Dad?" I asked later as I stared at the wall as if imagining a window.
"Yes, Princess?" Dad asked gently, as if worried I would burst into tears at any moment.
"Have you ever thought of breaking out of here, making yourself look unrecognizable, and developing an American accent so they couldn't find you?" I asked in a loopy voice. I swear I've lost my mind. My hair was jet black with blue tips, shorter in the back and longer in the front and my eyes were grey. I blamed myself, and I think that drove me over the edge. I haven't had a chance to yell at the Minister yet, as he has taken to ignoring me, but I will soon.
Dad chuckled and said it was impossible to get off the island. "It would be so much easier if we were animals. They've got it easy," I sighed as I continued to imagine a window on the blank grey wall. I saw a big black, shaggy dog being followed by a white spirit wolf. The sight was just as comforting as chocolate, unless it was another doorframe. I gave an angry sigh and laid back on the grey carpet. I tilted my head back to look at Dad, who was staring at me with his jaw dropped as if I had just told him he won a billion galleons.
"That's bril—impossible," Dad said. I ignored the word switch as I gazed up at the ceiling, imagining a life where everything was perfect.
"Well, Daddy, I better go get dressed. The Weasleys won't take kindly to me arriving at their house in my PJs," I sighed and sat up.
"Okay, Princess. If you see the minister, chew his fat *ss out for me," Dad smiled as I stood up.
"Dad, I'll chew that b*stard out for you, me, and Jill," I snarled as I grabbed my clothes. Dad looked as if he were about to scold me for cussing, but he shook his head at me with a smile and warned me to be careful.
-*-*-*-*-*-*-
"FUDGE!" I shouted angrily, dragging my trunk behind me as I saw the old man in his lime green bowler hat. The minister halted and searched for the source of my voice. When his brown eyes landed on me, they grew to the size of a quarter. "YOU BLOODY F*CKING B*STARD CORNELIOUS FUDGE!" I ran after his fleeting figure, my trunk traveling on air behind me. "YOU F*CKING KILLED HER! YOU MAY NOT HAVE LAID A SH*TTY FINGER ON HER, BUT YOU'RE THE RESON SHE'S DEAD!" Prisoners were gawking at us at their cell doors now. It's not often that a twelve year old, a girl at that, would stand up to someone as important as the Minister of Magic.
"I-I was o-only following protocol, dear girl," he whimpered, now running backwards so I could see the pleading look on his face.
"Innocent men do not run, Cornelious. You could have changed the protocol." I was in his face now, looking up at him with my finger pushing him backwards. "But," I jabbed my finger into his chest. "You." Another jab. "Didn't." One last jab and he backed into a wall. I kicked him in the shin. Hard. And I started crying. "You didn't. You just let her die to a crime she never committed. What kind of jacked up and sh*tty b*stard are you?" My voice wasn't a yell, which would be less frightening, but a small whisper that showed how deadly and broken I was at the moment. It was as much the Minister's fault as it was mine. And by the look of him, he hadn't lost any sleep over Jill's death. An innocent girl. Dead. In his prison. When he could have dropped the charges.
"The one in charge," a voice from behind me said. I turned around just in time to see his face before he dragged me out of Azkaban. Ronan.
Never had I ever been so glad to be escorted off a premises before. And it's happened many times.