Disclaimer: Obviously, most of these characters are JK Rowling's, not mine. Also, thank you to MinervaEvenstar, for letting me use her title.
I'm Not a Dessert!
Chapter One: Little Cornelius.
His name was Cornelius Fudge, and it was his curse. The first eleven years were by far the best in his life. Coming from a rich, pure blooded family, he had all that he could ever want. Practically every night as she was hugging him goodnight, his mother would tell him about the day he was born.
"Your father and I were getting on in years, and so far we'd failed to have any children. Oh, we tried, believe me we tried. I was pregnant five times before you were born, but each child had died in a miscarriage. We were so afraid that we wouldn't have an heir to carry on the legacy of the Fudge name. In fact, we were so worried by the time I was pregnant with you that I spent at least four months at St. Mungo's, just so I could be there in case something went wrong. I can't tell you how happy we were when you were born." On and on she would go, until little Cornelius was fast asleep, lulled there by her quiet but persistent voice.
While their smothering attention could be irritating at times, it was definitely in his best interests. He was spoiled rotten. The Fudges had quite a substantial bank account at their disposal and never saw reason to deny their son anything he asked for. By the time he was five, he had his very own broom. Not only that, it was a Cleansweep Three, the newest model. True, it was under all sorts of safety spells to keep him from getting hurt (Just because he'd survived long enough to be born didn't mean he was there to stay) but he was the only kid on his block with such a topnotch broom and that's what mattered. Cornelius would never be a big Quidditch fan, but there was something just so appealing about flying through the air with nothing to worry about. Except for falling off, that is.
But little Cornelius was never truly greedy. Though he fully appreciated everything his parents bought and took advantage of their generous natures to keep him happy, as he grew older he tried to keep his requests limited to the weeks before his birthday and Christmas. He came to understand that money doesn't grow on trees, and that someday the Fudge's river of money would run dry. His parents had made it clear that he was the sole heir to all of their wealth, and he wanted to make it last.
He'd made a friend in elementary school named Pamela. Her mother had gone to school with Cornelius's mum, though her father was a muggle. They were casually playing House in Pamela's bedroom one day, when Cornelius learned his first real lesson about money.
"I'm home, darling," Cornelius called, sweeping into the room. Pamela looked up from her plastic tea set.
"You just left. You can't come home yet, Sally hasn't even left for school," she scolded.
Cornelius frowned. "Can't we just skip that part? It's boring." Pamela fervently shook her head.
"It's important," she insisted. Cornelius rolled his eyes, but agreed and left the room. He hung around by the door for a while, but soon tired of it. He began to wander around the house. It was a strange house; a mix between magic and muggle. Cloaks and robes filled the basket outside Pamela's room, but just down the hall on the kitchen table sat a typewriter. Drawers were littered with quills and ink, but right along side them were pens and pencils. A telephone decorated the wall and across the room sat the owl cage with a rather skinny owl resting inside.
It was a small, cozy house, nothing like Cornelius's sprawling mansion. He wandered into the kitchen to see if he could sweet-talk Pamela's mother into giving him a snack. But before he could reach his destination, a hissing whisper caught his ear and he froze.
"What do you mean you got fired?"
"I mean I got fired. I lost my job. I came in late to work one day too many, and he up and fired me." Cornelius recognized the voices as those of Pamela's parents, but they were not the cheerful upbeat voices he was used to.
"So how do you intend to pay for Pam's education? Her schoolbooks? Her robes?"
"And what makes you so sure she's going to Hogwarts? I haven't seen her performing any magic, maybe she's a muggle."
"We'd still need to buy books and clothes for her!"
"Her clothes are fine."
"And Christmas is coming up! What are we going to tell her? That Santa Claus is taking the year off?" His eyes widened as he listened. It sounded as if Pamela's family didn't have even enough money for Christmas.
"We'll think of something. I'll get another job."
"And FOOD! HOW ARE WE GOING TO SURVIVE? YOU BLOODY WELL BETTER GET ANOTHER JOB!" Pamela's mother broke into a scream and Cornelius decided he was done 'working' for the day. He headed back up to Pamela's room, trying to flush what he'd heard from his ears. If this is what happened to people with no money, he was determined to make millions and keep what he had already.
When he got to be eleven and the letter came in the mail saying he'd been accepted at Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry, he was thrilled. It wasn't as if there was any doubt, but if felt good to have everything official. He hurried over to Pamela's to see if she'd gotten a letter as well, but was met with disappointment. Pamela would never be able to do magic. Cornelius knew at once that their friendship couldn't survive this difference, though they resolved to stay fast friends and play nonstop through the summers. There were always owls to keep in contact, after all.
So the train ride to Hogwarts was bittersweet. He was about to begin a new and wonderful chapter of his life, but he would be alone in doing so. He knew no one at his destination and had no idea what the school had in store for him.
A/N: So I suspect I might come back and change this chapter a bit. See, I don't know exactly where I'm going with it, and I might have to change a few key things about little Corny's childhood. Tell me what you think so far! And thanks to MinervaEvenstar again for letting me use one of her awesome titles.