Ways in Which Cornelius Fudge Meets an Untimely Demise

Ways in Which Cornelius Fudge Meets an Untimely Demise

#50 J.K. decides to kill him off

It was another boring, git-filled morning for Cornelius Fudge, Minister for Magic. He'd just finished sending off his twelfth owl to Dumbledore, even though it was only ten o'clock. He was planning to send out at least twenty-five more to deal with the little problems listed in his job description that he simply couldn't face. He sometimes wished he could be back in the position of Junior Minister. He smiled as he remembered the fun times he had had... although they usually involved pink tutus with orange sequins, an excessive amount of red currant rum, and sniggering from his fellow workmates, who usually held a bottle of clear liquid with 'Smirnoff' written on the label. He decided to forget all that, remembering the perks of being in power. He grimaced, and sent another owl to Dumbledore.

He sighed contentedly, picking up a scrap piece of paper from his desk. It carried the crest of the Bulgarian Minister for Magic on the top and looked very official. However, for some reason, Fudge, in his gitish ways, dismissed it, screwing the paper into a ball and throwing it in the direction of his wastepaper basket - or, as I should say, in the direction of the enormous pile of screwed up balls of paper, where the bin had originally stood. Let's just say that this was not the first note of that kind Fudge had received, this week alone, at any rate. He had received an anonymous Howler as well only a few days ago. Fudge ended up losing his hat from the sheer force of it, and had sent another owl to Dumbledore. He was very upset about the hat.

Sighing once more, Fudge Accio-ed his bowler hat from the hat-stand, and placed it reverently on his head. He found that it made all his worries disappear - and besides, lime-green suited his skin tone. Of course, what the git didn't notice were the sniggers and snorts of suppressed laughter as he left Madam Malkin's each time he was in need of a new hat. This usually occurred once every two weeks; twice a fortnight, if he was lucky. It wasn't that he kept on losing them, he just really liked hats. Well, hat, really. Those of the lime-green bowler variety. Madam Malkin's stocked them especially for him, and being familiar with his gitivity, added a 200% mark up on the price. Fudge was VERY fond of saying 'you can never have too many hats!', but, obviously no one had advised him that 'colour is everything'.

A knock on the door woke Fudge out of his gitiful daydream over the new lime-green bowler hat he'd spotted in a strategically placed display window at Madam Malkin's.

'Yes? Come in!'

A tall redhead with glasses poked his head into the room. Fudge got the immediate impression that this young boy was a bit of a git.

'Minister Fudge?' And a sycophant at that too, Fudge thought wryly. Ah, well, there's nothing wrong with a bit of sycophantism from the young people of today!

'Yes, er...'

'Weasley, sir. Percy Weasley.'

'Ah! Arthur's son, I presume. What can I do for you?'

Percy pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. 'Well, sir, there are a lot of people here to see you. Shall I let them in?'

'Yes, go ahead.' Fudge sat at his desk and adjusted the angle of his hat. He grinned at himself in the desktop mirror he kept as the hat now sat in a very fashionable jaunty manner. A loud cough brought him back to attention. He started slightly, or so, he imagined himself to. In reality, he jumped about five feet into the air, thus losing the jaunty angle.

The office was filled with a huge crowd of people - there was no space unaccounted for. If Fudge had known about this abundance of space in his office, he would have let out the meeting room for a day-care centre. He could see a very sallow faced man with greasy hair, and two identical red head boys amongst the crowd. The twin boys wore identical mischievous grins on their faces. Even their clothes were identical. For a second, Fudge thought he was seeing double and almost cancelled the red currant rum he'd ordered as a part of his lunch. Oh, and standing there right in front of him was little Harry Potter! How fortunate! Well, Harry wasn't so little anymore, but Fudge's intellectual part of the brain, which wasn't very large by the way, knew the difference. He didn't recognise the tall, lanky red headed boy, or the girl with the bushy hair who stood there beside him, but they all were wearing the same looks of annoyance on their faces that the multitude in the office shared. Fudge made a mental note to give this girl the name of his favourite hat designer.

'What can I do for you all?' Fudge asked cheerfully.

The Potter boy opened his mouth to answer, but all of a sudden... J.K Rowling Apparated into the room in a flash of bright, electric blue lightning. She carried a wand of walnut wood in her right hand, and in her left, she held the very first copy of Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix.

'Avada Kedavra!' she yelled, pointing her wand at Fudge, a gust of wind knocking the hat off his head. When the green light faded, J.K. was met with disbelieving, shocked and admiring stares from all around her. Fudge lay face down on top of his fallen hat. He would have been proud to know he died on his most treasured possession.

J.K. shrugged unashamedly. 'Well, he was a git. And besides, I needed to kill someone off in the next book. Goodbye, my children!' And with that, she Disapparated back to the world of reality and the next press conference.

The crowd in Fudge's office burst into loud applause.