Ways in Which Cornelius Fudge Meets an Untimely Demise

Ways in Which Cornelius Fudge Meets an Untimely Demise

# 1 He is killed by Voldemort because he didn't believe the Dark Lord had returned. The twat.

The stack of cards rested precariously upon sheets of important-looking parchment piled on the desk. Sweat glistened on Cornelius Fudge's brow as he stared at his almost completed masterpiece. Out of a deck of fifty-two cards, fifty-one were meticulously arranged to form a pyramid, and now with one card left to go, Fudge hardly dared to breathe.

He reached for the last card, its design depicting a caricature of an elderly wizard with twinkling bright blue eyes and half-moon glasses. Hesitating for a second, his outstretched hand detouring to a glass of water from which he took a large gulp, fervently wishing it was a large tankard of red currant rum.

He studied the cards in front of him, drumming his fingers lightly on the tabletop before his eyes wandered to the hat he had tossed aside casually on his desk when he had arrived at work earlier. Absentmindedly, he reached for it and stroked the lime-green material, feeling the nerves in the pit of his stomach subside. Unfortunately, the butterflies decided to take advantage of the nerves' departure, flittering and fluttering about erratically, giggling maniacally and flapping wings of garishly bright colours that would have blinded if seen by the average eye.

Feeling worse than before, Fudge placed the hat on his head. He pursed his lips, annoyed at his shaking hands; this was not what he needed right now. Calm down, Fudge, calm down, he thought to himself.

Staring at his creation, he felt a sudden burst of courage and picked up the remaining card. Gingerly he gripped it, the cartoon Dumbledore smiling benignly at him, and slowly and carefully placed it on the topmost card. He froze as the pyramid shuddered slightly, a tip of a finger pressed lightly on the card. Licking his lips again, he released the card, watching in almost slow motion as it moved to rest against the card next to it. He relaxed; his masterpiece was complete. A wide smile grew on his face as he leaned back into his plush chair.

At that exact moment, the large double doors of Fudge's office opened and closed with a loud, resounding bang. Fudge jumped in his seat with a high-pitched shriek. He released a louder screech as the cards exploded in a cloud of black ash and flames, setting the parchment they lay on alight. In the commotion, his bowler hat shot into the air, sailing over the fish tank on the left side of the room, its fishy inhabitants chuckling amongst themselves at the human's 'explosive' situation, having never before seen anything like it. Three seconds later, they burst into laughter as they noticed Fudge's dilemma, never in their lives witnessing such a sight.

Assuming fish have three-second memories. Which this author obviously does.

Although a study in England proves this false. At least we know our hard-earned taxes are going towards useful causes.

Moving on...

Fudge frantically tried to put out the small fire on his desk with his purple cloak, realising in alarm that the parchment contained an important treaty from the Bulgarian Minister for Magic.

'Damn, damn, damn, and bollocks!' he swore, sucking on a burnt finger. He threw away the smouldering cloak, grabbed a jug of water and poured its contents over the flames. A cloud of smoke and burnt parchment blew into his face, and he coughed fiercely, closing his eyes against the ashes.

'Hem hem. You have something called a wand, you know,' a voice giggled sweetly.

Fudge unscrunched his eyes, but couldn't see the person who had spoken to him. As the smoke dissipated, he found Dolores Umbridge, standing there, arms folded in front of her. Her toad-like face creased in a semi-amused expression as she looked him up and down as though he were a tasty fly she planned to gobble up.

'Uh ... Dolores!'

'Yes, that does happen to be my name, Cornelius,' Dolores drawled in her honeyed tones. 'I'm surprised you remember, what, with your attention span!' She smiled, almost making Fudge gag from the sight of it, and giggled like a twitty schoolgirl.

'Of course I remember!' Fudge said stupidly, trying to sweep the ashes out of his clothing. As he brushed the soot from his hair, he noticed his hat was missing and turned a complete circle to find it. Yes, in his chair. Quite talented Fudge is, when he doesn't realise what he's doing.

'Oh for heaven's sake, Cornelius, look at yourself - what have you been doing, darling?' Dolores pulled her tiny wand from the depths of her flower-patterned robes and conjured a full-length mirror. Fudge almost had a heart attack at his appearance.

His dark grey hair was now pitch-black, his face blackened as it had suffered the full impact of the explosion. His scarlet tie was riddled with scorch marks, and his purple cloak, now lying in a puddle on the floor, was still smouldering lightly, a thin curl of grey smoke rising in the air. All in all, Fudge had the appearance of a chimney-sweep and probably would have said as much had he known of the existence of these, which of course, he didn't. Muggle Studies had never been his forte.

Recovering from his initial shock, Fudge drew his wand from his pocket, and waved it over himself, muttering, 'Scourgify, ' and then proceeded to admire his now clean and dry self in the mirror Dolores had set on the floor. He sat down in his chair, gazing over the burnt parchment now scattered amongst the cards that had repaired themselves.

Dolores sneered at the twinkle-eyed Dumbledores. 'You still have these, I see.' She picked one up and sniffed disdainfully as the cartoon blew her a kiss.

'Well, they are special edition Exploding Snap cards, you know! They only made fifty decks of these.'

'Yes, I know, Cornelius, darling,' she replied smoothly, 'but since you have publicly denounced Dumbledore, don't you think it would seem ... odd for you to own this specific version?' she said, speaking slowly as though he were five years old.

'Oh, yes. I, uh ... forgot about that.'

'Evidently,' Dolores sniffed, clearly unimpressed. She threw the card back down and hefted her tiny body onto the corner of the desk, disregarding Fudge's disapproving stare.

'There are things called chairs, you know, Dolores, dear. They are generally used to sit upon.'

She smiled at him, fixing up her skirt, deliberately ignoring his admonishment.

'Dolores, what is this all about? I was in the middle of something important.'

'Yes, I can see how playing Exploding Snap will save the Wizarding World,' she said sardonically. 'Have you seen this morning's Daily Prophet?' She reached into her robes and pulled out a copy of the paper, tossing it on top of the wet, smouldering mess.

Glancing at the newspaper, he sighed almost exasperatedly. 'Yes, I've seen it. Gets better every day, what with discrediting the Potter boy and Dumblefool, don't you agree?' Dolores tittered at Fudge's blatant dislike of the young boy-who-vanquished-Lord-Mumblemumble-at-age-one, and the old man-who-Lord-Mmmmfffphh-was-afraid-of. 'The Wizengamot even forced him to resign!' Fudge continued, a smile spreading across his face. 'Of course I already knew about the Elders' decision, but they insisted on holding a private meeting. Still, I wish something could be done to be rid of the boy once and for all. He is such a nuisance, creating all those tall tales of Lord ... You-Know-His-Name coming back and all!' he said, slamming his fists on his desk.

'Yes, yes, Cornelius, I know what you mean,' Dolores agreed, a large smile spreading once again over her toad-like features. 'And you know what you need to do.'

'Start practicing my cross-stitch more often?' Fudge cowered under Umbridge's glare. That was clearly not the response she had been after. 'Uh, I mean to say, no. What do I need to do?'

Dolores hopped off the desk and sidled around it, staring intently into his blank face, and tutted. 'You need to get rid of Dumbledore,' she reminded him in a low voice, seating herself in his lap. 'Remember? Trying to usurp your Ministerialship?'

'Oh yes ... yes, that's right.' He mulled over Dolores' words, noticing for the second time as he scratched his scalp that his hat was missing. He jumped up and began to search feverishly for it. Dolores was thrown ungracefully to the floor with a loud thump.

'Dolores, you haven't seen my hat by any chance, have you?' Fudge asked, rummaging through his bookshelf.

'No,' Dolores replied huffily, rubbing her posterior, as Fudge darted all over the office like a bewildered jack rabbit. A moment later, she heard Fudge give a delighted squeak as he found the hat perched precariously over the fish tank and snatched it up just before it sank into its depths. The fish were greatly disappointed, having started a cult to the 'Large Green Thingie in the Sky', however, they soon forgot about it. Well, not exactly. They hadn't really forgotten about it - three months later, in fact, the fishy elders would peer critically at the disrespectful young members of the tank, sigh, and reminisce fondly about the good old days when they knew how to start a proper cult.

Triumphantly, Fudge jammed the hat on his head and walked back toward Dolores. She now stood beside desk and was openly glaring at him.

Oh great, Fudge thought, what did I do now? He always seemed to make the women in his life angry, and he was never sure why.

Fudge sat in his chair again, cowering in Dolores' powerful glower. Tentatively, he pulled the hat off his head and began to clean the dust off it, muttering darkly as he found a large hole on the top, burned away from the impact of the Exploding Snap cards. He swivelled his chair around and Accioed his hat cleaner and brush from the cabinet behind him. Turning around, he generously applied Mrs Skower's All-Purpose Hat Cleaner to the brush and scrubbed away, clenching his jaw in frustration at the poor state of his hat. He looked up at Dolores after failing to scrub off a particularly bad scorch mark.

'Dolores, look at my hat!' His face crumbled.

Dolores's glare vanished. She waddled over to Fudge, sitting on his lap again, softly stroking his face.

'Oh my poor Fudgie,' she crooned. 'Have the naughty cards damaged your hatty-kins? Let me see it.'

Fudge handed her the hat. 'Be careful with it, please ...' he pleaded.

'Of course I will,' she soothed. Dolores examined it for a few moments, turning it over and over in her hand.

'I'm sorry, Cornelius. I don't think the hat will make it.' Fudge's face crumpled even further; his lip trembled. 'Come now, Cornelius! Don't cry.' She put her arms around him.

'B-but, my hat!' Fudge buried his head in Dolores's chest. She stroked his hair.

'Shh, shh, it's going to be OK,' she placated. She glanced up at the clock on the wall behind the desk. 'Cornelius?' she whispered.

'Hmm?'

'I have to go.'

'Do you have to?' Fudge peered into her face, his own streaked with tears. He looked at her with puppy eyes.

'Yes, I have something very important to do.' She stood up, smoothing her robes. Fudge watched her with his red rimmed eyes. 'I'll talk to you later.' Kissing him on top of his head, Dolores walked to the door, opening them and slipped out, the ruined hat still in her hands, leaving Fudge to stare at the space where she had once stood.

Later that afternoon Fudge decided to leave work early and take a walk down Diagon Alley. This is what he told Daisy, his secretary, in case anyone should look for him (which wasn't likely), but in actual fact he was on a mission to procure a new hat. He just couldn't function without one. That was the sad, sad truth of the matter.

He stood inconspicuously in front of Madam Malkin's Robes for Every Occasion. Well, as inconspicuous as you can get when you're dressed in purple boots, a bottle-green suit and a purple cloak. He gave passer-by's a shifty look before dashing into the shop.

Ten minutes later, Fudge exited the shop with a smile stretching from ear to ear and a new bowler hat propped on his head. Inside the shop, Madam Malkin and her assistant laughed wildly, counting the obscene amount of Galleons and Sickles in their hands, shaking their heads and wiping the tears from their eyes.

Fudge fixed up his hat as he walked down the cobblestone street, adjusting it until he was satisfied with the 'right look'. He eventually decided that the jaunty angle look suited him best and wore it thus as he Apparated home. He found his wife, Mary-Sue, lounging on the couch in their bedroom, reading a book.

'Look, my dear - a new hat!'

Mary-Sue was not impressed. 'Not another bloody hat!' she muttered. She stood gracefully, marking her page and placing Living with Gits: A Practical Guide on the couch arm. She drew her wand. Fudge, who continued to prance around the room like an entrant from 'Who Wants to be a Supermodel' (who never made it past the first round, of course) didn't notice his wife's odd action.

'Fudge,' she said, 'I don't know how your wife puts up with you.'

Fudge halted, mid-pose. 'Mary-Sue, what are you talking about? You are my wife.' He looked her up and down. 'At least last time I checked, you were, and you remember that, huh?' He winked provocatively; Mary-Sue groaned.

'Ah, that is where you are mistaken!' She waved her wand over herself. 'Finite Incantatem.'

Slowly, she began to change. Fudge's eyes widened in fear, shock, terror and even disbelief, as his beautiful wife grew several inches, lost her white-blonde hair to an even white baldness, and her luminescent eyes that reflected all colours of the metallic rainbow turned a deep crimson.

The Dark Lord who all fear, yet fanfiction authors love to mock, stood in her place. Fudge goggled, his mouth wide open, frozen to the spot.

'Hello Cornelius,' Lord Thingy purred, smiling malevolently. 'So, I haven't returned?'

Fudge spluttered, but was unable to produce anything more than incoherent toddlerish babble, which sped up considerably as Lord What's-his-name raised his wand at him.

'Say goodbye to the fic readers, Cornelius.'

'G-g-g-g-g-'

'Getting past the first letter would be helpful, you know,' the Dark Prince of the Wizarding World advised.

'You try to speak coherently when faced with a resurrected Evil Wizard!' Fudge retorted. He blinked, as did the Snake-Faced Wizard of Doom. 'Oh, so I can speak now?' he added, staring at the ceiling with his hands on his hips. There was no reply.

'Cornelius, I don't like to be kept waiting.' His Evilness smiled almost benignly. 'And it looks like the Author agrees - she's running out of epithets for me.'

'What? Oh, yes. What was it I needed to say?' Fudge pulled out a sheaf of parchment from the belt of his trousers. Lord Madjghdlfjgh sighed impatiently.

'Dammit, Fudge,' he said. 'I just got the 'evil factor' down pat!' He crossed his arms huffily, tapping his foot. 'Why do you always do this to me?!'

Fudge ignored him. '"Ah, that's where you are mistaken,"' he mumbled.

'That's my line,' the Crimson-Eyed One snapped. Fishing out his own script, he flipped through the pages until he found the one he was looking for. 'Here,' he said, pointing halfway down the page, 'this is where we're up to!'

'Oh, yes,' Fudge said, looking a bit flustered. 'So we'll start from your line then, shall we?'

The Supreme Bringer of Fear and Terror rolled his eyes and tucked the script back in his robes. Sodding git, he thought.

'Say-good-bye-to-the-fic-rea-ders-Cor-ne-li-us,' he said in a monotone.

Fudge looked from the face of the albino figure in front of him to the lazily-raised wand aimed at his chest.

'G-g-goodbye,' he stuttered.

The Lord of All Things Dark and Terrible's smile returned. 'Avada Kedavra!'

In a flash of bright green light, Fudge's portly figure crumpled in a heap on the floor.

'Oh thank Merlin! Finally, I can use my name in peace!' Lord Voldemort exclaimed. He whipped out the daily diary he kept next to his copy of the script and opened a marked page. 'Good,' he said, 'just in time to visit Bella for a spot of tea and crumpets.'

He Disapparated.