"A Hogwarts Christmas Carol"

Ebenezer Scrooge – Cornelius Fudge

Bob Cratchit – Arthur Weasley

Mrs. Cratchit – Molly Weasley

Tiny Tim – Ginny Weasley

Cratchit Children – Weasley Children

Nephew Fred – Ludo Bagman

Clara – Nymphadora Tonks

Belle – Narcissa Malfoy

Past – Minerva McGonagall

Present - Hagrid

Future – Dementor of Azkaban

Storytellers – Harry, Ron, Hermione

Donation Men – Dean and Seamus

Caroler – Dobby

Jacob Marley – Barty Crouch Sr.

And with that, the ghost of Fudge's former partner vanished into the darkness, leaving Fudge once again alone in his office.

Good. I hope he straightens out.

I agree, Harry.

Ron, its your turn to read.

...spew. I just don't understand.

Fudge wasn't going to pretend he wasn't frightened. However, he still had work to do. Humbug, he thought to himself. Spirits. What do they know?

But what about those chains?

Well, old Barty was always a strange bird. Fudge pushed the ghosts out of his mind and continued on with his work. Although he still kept his wand within reach.

It was getting late. Fudge looked up to the clock and felt a slight twitch of his nerves. The clock was starting chime the hour.

Ding.

Fudge stood still. Nothing.

Suddenly, a blinding light appeared in the office, knocking him over and dowsing everything with its brilliance.

Fudge ducked under his desk again, wondering what on earth the year on the sherry had been.

Then the light extinguished itself. Silence.

He slowly crawled out from under the desk and peeped his head over the top. He felt his jaw drop.

Minerva McGonagall was standing in the center of the room.

"M-Minerva? Minerva McGonagall?"

Only, it wasn't quite Minerva McGonagall. She was transparent and pearly, wearing her usual emerald robes, with a wreath around her pointed hat and carrying a single candle.

"Are, are you supposed to be the spirit that -"

"Yes, I am Fudge. Now get up. We haven't got all night."

"Excuse me. What business do you have in my office. And, are you dead?"

"No, Fudge. Barty did tell you I was supposed to show up, did he not?"

"Yes, but -"

"I am the Ghost of Christmas Past."

"And what the bloody hell is that supposed to mean?"

"You'll catch on." As she said this, we flicked her wand at the window and it flew open. She floated toward it.

"What, Minerva, are we, we not, flying are we?"

She grabbed his forearm. "Oh, just hang on."

With that, they sped out of the window and over the rooftops of London, Fudge hanging on to McGonagall for dear life.

"You must be mad, McGonagall! I'll be contacting the school govern-"

He didn't have time to finish his sentence, for he had just flown into a chimney.

"Watch it, will you?"

"Well stop blubbering and pay attention!"

They flew on towards a bright oval light that had materialized in the sky. "Minerva, what is that light?"

"The Past."

"Oh."

They flew into the light and Fudge found himself flying over the grounds of Hogwarts.

"Minerva, what -"

They landed in front of the doors to the entrance hall.

"What are we doing here? Isn't the term over?"

But it didn't look like the term was over. Actually, it looked like it was ending. There were students with suitcases and carts, all heading boarding the horseless carriages that transported them to the Hogsmeade Station.

"Minerva, these kids, they're..."

Fudge could not believe his eyes. He was looking at his old classmates, students he went to school with when he himself was a boy. It just couldn't be...

"Come," McGonagall said. She led him into the school where Fudge was seeing more and more of old classmates and friends and teachers, long, long forgotten.

"Hello Lucius! Look, its Lucius as a boy! My, my."

"Don't waste your breath trying to talk to them, Fudge. There are just shadows of the past. They cannot see nor hear you."

Fudge barely heard her. "But, I haven't seen these people in ages! This is, this is -" the entered the Great Hall where a few students were sitting in random places at the four long house tables, clearly not going home for the holidays.

"Is he too, familiar?" McGonagall asked, gesturing to a paunchy boy sitting alone, almost completely hidden by piles and piles of books.

Fudge walked up to the boy and felt a jolt in his stomach. "Merlin's Beard," Fudge whispered. "That's me."

This boy was clearly concentrating on his book, which Fudge remembered was something that had to do with politics.

"Cornelius! Cornelius!" he heard someone say.

A boy had just run up to him. "The coaches are leaving! You won't get home for Christmas!"

"Bah, Christmas. I'll be doing my homework."

"But, Cornelius, you don't have any, you've already done it!"

"I'm making sure its right! Now leave!"

"What do you think you're gonna do? Become minister of magic? You're seventeen! Take a load off!"

But the boy was summoned by his fellows and was off. "Well, see you in a few then."

"I was alone a lot," Fudge told McGonagall. "I liked... quiet. "

"Yes, but everything Christmas was like this, Fudge. What Christmas memories do you have?"

"Hey, I scored perfectly on my O.W.L.S because of all the extra time I spent studying for them over Christmas!"

Blimey. Here I thought you were the only nutter about work, Hermione."

Oh please Ron. I'm not that bad.

"Fudge," said McGonagall, "you have known nothing but working your fingers to the bone at Christmas. And you're still doing it! Why aren't you with family and friends?"

Fudge looked uncomfortable. "I-I'm never invited."

"Rubbish," McGonagall said. "Ludo invited you to his house."

Fudge didn't say anything. He was looking at a tall figure coming his way. Albus Dumbledore.

"Staying again, Cornelius?"

"Yes, sir."

"Ah. Not feeling up to merry-making?"

"Work is more important, sir."

"I see. You know, Cornelius, I'd be careful if I were you. You are an excellent student, but, I think you should take some time off once in a while. You work more than your professors!"

"Please, sir. I – I want to do well on my N.E.W.T.S, sir."

"What do you want to do after graduation, Cornelius?"

"Well, sir. I, er, I want to get into politics sir."

"Mhm. You want to be a man of power. Why, may I ask?"

"I just, I like the idea sir."

"You want to be careful. Sometimes power and wealth cannot buy happiness."

"Professor Dumbledore sir, I er..."

"It's just a thought," Dumbledore said. "Candy cane?"

"Excuse me, sir?"

"Another Muggle sweet I've grown accustomed to," he said, holding up a red and white-striped candy. "Quite popular this time of year."

Young Cornelius shook his head. Even his Transfiguration professor has gone off on this stupid Christmas kick.

"Come, Fudge. There's much to see," McGonagall said.

Fudge came back out of his reverie. "What? Oh, right. More."

Again he and McGonagall were speeding though the wooshing light and landed right in the main entrance of the Ministry of Magic itself.

Fudge gasped. "Done already?" he asked. "Well then, thank you. I'll be off." He tried to make a break for the golden elevators that would lead him safely to his office and away from this madness, but stopped dead in his tracks; for he had almost run into a shadow of his nineteen-year-old self.

"Minerva! Its, its the annual Ministry Christmas party! Right after I had been apprenticed!" He followed himself and gasped again as he looked into the eyes of his old master.

Fudge looked around and the forgotten memories warmed him. The music, the laughter, the dancing. Fudge couldn't help but smile. His old master was handing out drinks and spirits, dancing with friends, and everyone from the ministry, every employee and their friends, were mingling with each other, executives and common folk, chairpersons and house elves.

Fudge followed his younger self all around the huge room, McGonagall trailing him. Fudge smiled slightly as he watched himself greet important people with a strong handshake and bow. He was proud then, and he was proud now. He was so successful for other wizards of his age.

"You were quite popular," McGonagall said.

"Oh yes," Fudge responded.

"You would never know it, nowadays," McGonagall said under her breath.

"What was that?"

"Nothing."

Fudge felt himself redden as a tall, slender female meandered up to the young Fudge standing next to him.

"Cornelius!" The young woman said.

The young Fudge sputtered and blushed. "N-Narcissa! How, how lovely to see you!" He made quite a deal of making his apprentice pin noticeable as he kissed Narcissa's hand with a flourish.

"Fancy meeting you here!" Young Fudge said to her.

"Yes, yes. Mother and Father were invited. I'm here with my sisters. It is quite nice to be able to mingle with such high-up people, don't you agree?"

Two more girls, about Narcissa's age walked up to her. One very sullen with dark hair was dragging another rather sullen looking youth, the other, rather jumpy and brunette.

"Cissy, who is this?" the black-haired sister said. Old Fudge felt himself stiffen. Bellatrix. That death-eating fool.

"It's Cornelius Fudge, Bella. Junior assistant to the minister," Narcissa bragged. "A dear friend of mine from Hogwarts."

"Can we go? I'm bored," the brown-haired sister said.

"Please, Andromeda. You don't know a good party when you see one," Bellatrix snapped.

"You two talk to the smuggest doofuses of wizard kind!" Andromeda said. "I'm getting more of that mead. You need it to have fun at this joint." She stalked off.

Old Fudge groaned. And Ludo wanted him to spend a day with offspring of that.

"Don't mind her, Cornelius," Narcissa said. "Come, mingle with me." She took his hand and Young Fudge, finding his feat again, followed her lead.

"You were head over heels for her, Fudge," McGonagall said.

"Yes," Fudge said. "She was the most beautiful thing I'd ever laid eyes on."

"Of course, there was another Christmas Eve spent with Narcissa Black. A few years later."

"Oh Minerva," Fudge said. "Please, don't show me that!"

But Fudge had no control. McGonagall had grabbed his wrist, and again they were speeding through blinding light and landed in a ministry office.

Fudge was slightly older, and he had been working on some papers for the minister. Lucius Malfoy was sitting next to him at another desk, counting gold coins.

"Taxes are good this year, Cornelius," Lucius said. "Wonder how many people had to scrap the bottom of their cauldrons in order to get it in on time, poor things."

Young Fudge chuckled and returned to recording the minutes from the minister's last meeting.

There was a knock on the door. "Come in," Young Fudge said.

Narcissa had entered, her long hair cascading down her shoulders and back. There were snow flakes shining in her hair and on her cloak, and her pale face was rosy from the bitter cold. Lucius eyed her slightly.

"Cornelius," she said.

"Yes, Cissy?"

"Cornelius, you – you told me you'd spend Christmas with me."

"So I did," Young Fudge said.

"Well, Cornelius, its – its almost midnight. I've grown tired of waiting."

"What? The night is still young!"

"Cornelius! You've been doing work all this time! Can't it – can't it wait until the twenty-sixth?"

"Why wait? It needs to be done."

"That's the thing, Cornelius. I'm tired of waiting."

"Waiting for what?"

"You! I'm waiting for some attention! You – said ages ago you had wanted to marry me! Well, countless men have approached me and I could have said yes, but, I told them I was spoken for by you!"

"Mmm," Fudge said, sipping a brandy.

"Cornelius Fudge! Are you listening to a word I'm saying!"

"Huh? Oh, yes! What do you take me for?"

"You are a lier and a cheat and I wish I'd never even talked to you! You greedy, you foul, all you care about is your stupid job!" Narcissa said, raising her voice.

"Stupid job? Cissy, this puts the bread on the table! You think I can concentrate on marrying you? I need to make my money! Weddings are expensive!"

"But its not the money that counts, Cornelius! It's the love! Don't you have any left for me at all?" Narcissa was close to tears.

"A man needs to get his priorities straight, Cissy."

"Don't call me that! My name is Narcissa! And we are done! Through! Finished! Goodbye!" She turned and stormed toward the door.

"Ciss - Narcissa! Wait! Please," Fudge said, tearing after her, "I-I can fix it! Please, just give me a few more months!"

"No, Fudge," she said. "I'm done with you."

Lucius stood up. "Please, madam," he said. "Let me walk you to the fireplaces. A fine lady like you shouldn't be walking alone in a big building like this."

"Oh," Narcissa said, face flushing. "Oh th-thank you, er, what is your name?"

"Lucius. Lucius Malfoy, madam."

"Oh," Narcissa said, giggling. "I'm Narcissa. Narcissa Black."

"I know," Lucius said. He offered her his arm and led her out the door, leaving his friend alone in his office, the gold on the table reflecting its light in Narcissa's shimmering hair.

Old Fudge had tears streaming down his face. "Minerva," he said, "Why are you torturing me? Why are you showing me these horrible memories?"

"Please, Fudge," McGonagall said, dabbing her eyes with a handkerchief. "There are again, shadows of what have been. They are what they are. Don't blame me. You created these memories yourself."

"But, oh Minerva," Fudge said.

"This sure explains to me why you keep Lucius so close," McGonagall said.

"Leave! Get me home! Now!" Fudge yelled. He sunk down in a chair and buried his face in his hands. He felt the cold room leave and the warmth of his present-day office materialized around him, leaving him quite alone and do nothing to wait for the next spirit that was scheduled to visit when the next hour struck.

Hahahaha, that was the funniest thing I'd ever seen.

Ron, once again, you have the emotional range of a -

Blimey. Even as a kid old Lucius was slippery. That does explain a lot.