My fingers thrum out a gentle beat against the desk of oak which sat in front of me

Morpheus

AUTHOR'S NOTE: A short piece on Cornelius Fudge, set in the holiday's in between Harry's fourth and fifth years.

DISCLAIMER: It's mine! All mine! Mwwhaahaahaa (Lawyers: You know I don't mean it. It's all J.K.'s. Unfortunately.)

Giver of dreams/Sender of sleep/Keeper of the subconscious/Maker of fiction/Morpheus

My fingers thrum out a gentle beat against the desk of oak which sat in front of me. I stare down at the newspaper which has just been unceremoniously chucked onto the polished oak of the desk. The title blares out at me, announcing itself with all the horror that it implied.
Voldemort attacks Hogwarts Express.
Albus is looking old. Albus never looks old. Oh, help.
"Not just some crackpot story any more, is it, Cornelius?"

Cornelius sighed. Normally, around about now, he would walk out of the huge front doors that lead onto Diagon Alley, and would apparate to his house in Hogsmeade, where he would enjoy a nice meal with Mrs. Fudge. Except that there was no longer a Mrs. Fudge, nor was there a house in Hogsmeade. He could go to his suite at the Leaky Cauldron, but it was small and stuffy and he didn't feel up to answering Tom's questions about the truth of the article.
He hadn't left his office since the meeting with Albus, and he wasn't about to. There had to be something he could do. Maybe he could just wander around and check that everything was running smoothly in the departments.

Cornelius' footsteps tapped a gentle rhythm on the cobblestones as he trotted down Diagon Alley. It was 3 am, and Cornelius hoped that he could make a dive from the back door to the staircase which led up to his suite. He hummed a tune to himself, making it up as he went along, dreaming of the day when Voldemort would be gone. If only

A figure stumbled out of an alley, falling flat on his face. He screamed in agony, twisting and writhing. Cornelius noticed a flash of red hair peek out of the black mass for a second.
"Arthur?" Cornelius gasped. He didn't even notice the three cloaked figures who slipped out of the alley until it was too late.

Cornelius Fudge slumped to the ground, killed by a whispered spell from an unknown killer.

Dervish

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dervish@alohomora.org