Snippet 14: All Hail Fudge
JollyHippopotamus
Not too sore, are you?
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A little snippet I wrote before I began Mischief Siriusly Managed, deciding on utilizing a slightly less scummy main character for the proper story.
Saving the scummy one for this snippet.
Now I'm probably wildly wrong with ages and timelines. Consider it an AU.
As usual, I do not own Harry Potter or the associated companies that deliver material from it.
Enjoy!
Waking up in a new body is not what he would have called a pleasant experience, even if it started out easy enough. The first moments had been simple confusion - the bedroom being different then the one he went to sleep in.
He had thoughts of how much he must have drank the other night and wondered who he ended up going home with - someone posh, based on the canopy bed and the green and silver walls.
It was unusually trampy behavior for himself - he rarely did one night stands, and certainly not gallivanting to strangers' bedrooms, no matter how drunk.
His head was splitting as he slowly got out of bed and searched for a bathroom, the pain certainly advocating for the - got absolutely sloshed theory.
It was just… He didn't remember going out drinking at all - it had been a quiet night at home reading, as far as he could remember. He distinctly remembered his own bed at the very least.
If this was a kidnapping situation - they were remarkably loose, he thought, as he entered the bathroom unopposed, locating the sink and groaning in relief as he turned the ornate tap on - and splashed himself with cold water.
He looked up into the mirror, and stared in shock at the unfamiliar face staring back at him. Slowly he reached up and ran a hand over his genial looking fairly plain face - light grey eyes peered back at him in rising panic. His hands rose and grasped the coiffed russet coloured hair tightly. He winced in pain as he pulled on it, telling him this was indeed his actual hair - and his actual face, somehow.
A sudden splitting migraine slammed into him as he accepted the impossible and he fell to the bathroom floor - screaming, as a lifetime of memories drowned him - unforgiving and seemingly never-ending. The pain climbing higher and higher.
In what felt like hours - he whimpered on the floor as his two lifetimes of memories assimilated, if he had the power to move his extremities he might have ended it all right there to get away from the pain - but in the end he survived. The pain lessened, and he found out what his life was.
He, somehow, had become Cornelius Oswald Fudge.
The future Minister for Magic. From the Harry Potter story!
Because of course he wasn't minister yet, he'd arrived in 1970, just as everything was kicking off.
He passed out finally, mind not able to take anymore. Nor wonder on how on earth he'd taken over a man's life and why.
Simply thankful that the pain was done.
As he gingerly started moving in the morning, he was glad for some of the memories at least. Apparently good old Cornelius was on leave from the department of magical accidents and catastrophes due to an accident - he appreciated the irony, and the fact he didn't have work today.
It would give him some time to figure out what on earth he was supposed to do.
Having received his new life's memories up to this point, he knew he had graduated Hogwarts with decent grades - nothing spectacular, and in that vein gotten a decent job at the ministry - again, nothing spectacular. The fact he was a pureblood catapulting him over other more qualified applicants of lesser status.
Apparently he was indeed a pureblood with the whole - all the grandparents were pure - nonsense needed to qualify. Although the Fudge family had been a recent creation and a minor one - an offshoot of a disinherited Selwyn and a pureblood Belgian woman fleeing Grindelwald. The name Fudge literally only existed as a pureblood family in Britain since the 40's.
His Selwyn father and Fudge mother were both dead, since right after he graduated Hogwarts - apparently in mysterious circumstances, he had never been told the full picture by the Aurors. He had to wonder, what with the time period he was in - whether his Selwyn father had been approached for recruitment and been killed for refusing. He had been disinherited for his fascination with muggles - it's unlikely he'd have joined Voldemort. Not with his wife and Cornelius mother having fled another dark lord in Grindelwald.
Perhaps this is where canon Fudge's dislike of Arthur Weasley and his muggle interests stemmed from? Personally he didn't really care other than taking in the information - his other life having subsumed any emotions of this body he'd somehow taken over. He remembered the bodies life - but felt nothing for the people in it. It was just a set of memories.
He had been born in 1945 - and was currently 25. That would make him 50 for 1995 - the timeline seemed to match somewhat. Surely the minister he remembered from the books and movies was around that age. His memories held all the people it should, even though canon was far off - it appeared he wasn't in some weird alternate universe. So far.
He'd spent almost eight years in the department for magical accidents and catastrophes now. And he knew that in canon Fudge had remained there until somehow becoming minister twenty years from now.
He'd already reached the junior minister position canon Fudge would still have two decades from now - showing how spineless and useless this body he'd taken over really was. It's a magical miracle he'd somewhere made it as far as minister for magic. Perhaps something happened? A wife? He was currently single, his memories told him. And in eight years he'd moved respectably from a regular obliviator to a team lead - to interim head of the muggle worthy excuse committee - to PR undersecretary for the same committee once its head returned - to junior minister for the whole department. Basically one of three undersecretaries to the head of the department.
Not taking the world by storm - but not too bad of a resume for eight years either. He was basically prime material for head of the department or a transfer to a high position in another.
The war must have forced Fudge to temper his ambitions and stay safe in the junior minister position. Nothing else explained it. His memories showed a ambitious man - one that ensured he was known in the ministry and did 'favors' for the right people.
No wonder the likes of Lucius Malfoy eventually made use of him.
Fudge had graduated a Slytherin back in the 1957/58 school year. It certainly fit his avarice and ambition, although a lack of will or steel in his spine had led to the hat almost shunting him off to Hufflepuff. That ambition was the only thing that ensured a Slytherin sorting.
To his surprise as he pondered the life so far of the body he now possessed - he'd been somewhat lazy in school. That ambition apparently was not enough to make him work for it.
His pure blood got him into the department once he graduated - and got him promoted, as that same lack of work effort did not produce spectacular results in the ministry either, but his networking and ability to spin a tale and socialize - ensured his continued promotions thus far.
The only time Fudge had shone was the brief time he was the PR undersecretary for the muggle worthy excuse committee - dealing with, and planting the press stories to explain away magical accidents.
Now, he was Fudge. He'd better start thinking of himself as the man. Cornelius Fudge. And what this all could mean. He'd been an ambitious man himself - but now he had access to magic. Future knowledge - blackmail or information on most major players for the next twenty plus years.
Perhaps he'd make it to Minister for Magic a lot earlier this time. And without incompetence being the name of the game.
As he sat down in his small office in the modest family cottage the Fudge family had owned - and which now belonged solely to him. He wondered, what to take advantage of first, and how to ascend the ministry in a way that did not have him run afoul of Voldemort before his downfall.
First things first - he had two months of convalescence - although he felt fine, perhaps whatever happened to the real Fudge ended badly allowing him to take his body? He'd likely never know the how or why. Either way it gave him time. Time to study up on Occlumency and magic in general - and plan for his return to the ministry.
It would be a busy two months.
Not being a fool - the first thing he practiced was magic.
He'd been a decent obliviator, so that was useful magic to already have under the belt. But it soon became apparent he hadn't been using much else. He was no Lockhart - no one was that useless. But it appeared the most magic he'd used over the last eight years had been a mix of household spells, paperwork spells, Obliviate and Apparation.
He had very rudimentary Occlumency shields - another thing the very ambitious, but lazy sod - had started on but never finished.
This short discovery period of two days of trying various magic from different disciplines and seeing where he stacked up - led to the list.
A simple ten step plan. Easy to write out, much harder to pull off in just two months. But not completely unreasonable. He'd mulled it over for the past day - while researching and reaching out to those that owed him favors.
He was no master of magic and likely never would be, but he already had a decent handle on Obliviate and surely Imperio could not be that difficult or different. He was fairly sure he could manage the intent and want to control, to use the spell properly.
"Hatty!" He called out sharply, as he sat staring at his list in his small office.
With a small crack the Fudge house elf arrived - clad in a clean and well worn uniform. Hatty with his big bulbous eyes and thin frame, was all that was left of his mother's side of the family - the house elves having fled with her, carrying the belongings. Hatty was born shortly before Cornelius himself had been.
Only being out on an errand had saved the house elf when his parents had 'disappeared' together with the other house elves.
Hatty bowed lowly and waited for his instructions - he'd been a right tosser to the creature - the only one he could force to treat him as he had wished to be treated.
He'd do better from now on - he knew how useful a fully loyal house elf could be.
Well… Better after he was done practicing. Luckily he'd double checked his wards and no magic performed in this house should alert any ministry personnel. He'd even sent an owl off to a 'friend' of sorts in the DMLE who confirmed that the wards would prevent any ministry surveillance as long as they were up. Not that he'd told him anything about what he was doing - but the man owed him a favor for obliviating a muggleborn family that had seen him be dastardly, so he answered promptly.
He aimed his wand - 11 inches, springy, elm with unicorn hair. He thought of dominating the creature before him, of controlling it's every thought and action - of the wish to have power, and he uttered the spell. "Imperio!"
He could feel the spell take effect immediately - feel it overpowering Hatty's will. He took a deep breath, testing this connection - it seemed solid.
The next hour he ordered the elf to do increasingly hard and ridiculous things, testing the spell, knowing the elf was naturally predisposed to obeying to begin with.
A quick Obliviate after he released him took care of matters, he'd have to practice that to make sure he fully removed the memories and replaced them properly - he wanted no chance of a resurgence. He'd have to continue to practice Imperio as well - to make sure he'd be able to overpower a human. Eventually he'd have to find another subject other than his house elf - but it would do as a start.
No wonder it was an unforgivable - as far as he could tell he certainly wasn't a magical powerhouse. Although he wasn't anywhere near a squib for that matter either. But that spell had come easy. Just needing the will to dominate.
He turned to his list.
Now where to go from here…
Over the next two weeks he practiced Apparation consistently until he got it down to an almost completely inaudible noise - and could apparate on the fly - immediately. Even if he was jumping in the air at the time, or even rolling around the ground.
He might have gotten a bit carried away with finding scenarios he'd have to escape from. No matter, they all worked. And that's what was most important.
He was pleased with the progress - he'd have to gain a portkey license at some point and work on that next - never knew when one could come in use, but Apparation was working wonderfully. Enough for his purposes surely.
He had progressed enough with his house elf in the first week - in Imperio and Obliviate. That in the second week he started testing it on muggles. To ensure it was working - nothing else.
He'd simply find muggle companies in the phone book and use a pay phone to call different companies for a consultation at his home. When they arrived, he brought them inside the wards and Imperioed them.
He found no difficulty in this task either. He wondered if original Fudge or himself was the cause for this ease in dominating someone's will.
Once he was done ensuring the spell worked - he Obliviated the muggle, planting fake memories of a consultation that ended in no sale, but had overall been a pleasant experience. He double and triple checked his alterations and could find no faults.
It seemed house elf practice truly had prepared him well enough - as a muggle showed no difference in difficulty.
Having been a muggle, so to speak. He found it slightly frustrating even though it benefited him. He was no longer a muggle after all. Yet the ease there was in controlling one - it did disquiet him slightly.
Thankfully he should not have much need for the spells in the future.
They were more of a backup - a just in case. Other than the planned retirement of his superior.
As for other magic he found that just based on memories - he was absolute pants at Transfiguration. No wolf packs conjured up to devour his enemies would be in his future. Thankfully he was pretty handy in charms - which helped him - with his new memories - to succeed in creating a corporeal patronus during the two weeks.
Although a Hippopotamus wasn't the most flattering of spirit animals…
As for DADA, he was able to improve on his abilities, his meta knowledge helping him with spells such as Stupefy and Expelliarmus. Better then nothing for now - he'd train to become at least competent In-between his job and ambitions, there would be a war going on after all.
He was interrupted in his musings over his progress by the quiet crack of his house elf appearing before him.
"Master has visitor in the floo." Hatty squeaked out, bowing low. The creature's large nose almost touched the floor in obeisance.
Cornelius frowned, "Who is it? I'm supposed to be in convalescence." He grouched.
"Mister Lawyett, Master, Hatty can ask wizard to leave?"
"No…No I'll see him.." Cornelius said, immediately making his way towards the small sitting room that held his fireplace.
Lysander Lawyett was his only minion really. A pureblood born from a union of such minor houses that he was barely considered one by the establishment.
He'd barely scraped by Hogwarts - and had only gotten into the department due to his blood and a hefty bribe from his father.
When Cornelius became a team leader of a small squad of obliviators, Lysander had been on that team - and had immediately cocked everything up.
Not only had he messed up obliviating the witnesses - but somehow he blew up their house in the process, requiring the whole neighborhood to be Obliviated.
Cornelius had covered it up for him - saved his job, and earned a devoted minion. Who couldn't really do magic, but was a terrific sneak, incredible with gossip and rumor mongering and so average and unremarkable that he could go anywhere in the ministry without anyone noticing who he was and what he was doing there.
So immensely useful. Cornelius wondered if the original had brought him all the way to the Minister's office - or if he had died due to the war, or wandered off into someone else's employ due to the original him cowering in the same position for the entire war.
"Lysander! How nice to see a friendly face!" He said cheerfully as he entered the sitting room. Spying the boring average brown haired face of his friend/minion sticking out of the fire, his droopy eyes always making him look exhausted.
"Cornelius! Glad to see you're feeling better! Sorry to bother you unannounced, but I had news I figured you'd want to hear right away!" Lysander said hurriedly.
Cornelius sat down in an armchair in front of the fire, brows furrowed. He wasn't about to let anyone into his wards until he felt himself ready - not even Lysander.
"Is this news safe through the floo? Who's floo are you even using right now, your office doesn't have one if I remember correctly?" He asked sharply.
"I'm in Ridgewood's office -" Lysander began babbling. Cornelius reared back eyes wide, hissing out between gritted teeth, "Circe's tits, man! What are you doing in the department heads office!?"
If this is what the man considered safe means of communication perhaps he had overestimated the memories he'd received about him.
"Cornelius no one's here! Ridgewood's dead!" Lysander protested loudly.
"Morgana's rotten twat!" Cornelius swore, getting up and pacing in front of the fireplace. He'd wanted the man out of the way, sure - in a month when he was ready. And not dead - he'd been a decent boss and a friendly enough man. "Do we know how?" He fired off, mind still whirling on how bad this would mess with his timeline.
"The official report is that he fell down the stairs." Lysander reported dutifully and dubiously. His little sneak didn't believe that one bit it seemed.
"I once saw the man take a rogue bludger from the department of magical games to the face - spit out his teeth and beat their department head like a muggle!" Cornelius snapped, irritated, fell down the stairs indeed!
"Do you want me to poke into it?"
Cornelius ran a hand through his hair, sighing. "No, absolutely not, there's no benefit for us in that."
"I can't be here for long, is there anything you want me to do?" Lysander asked plaintively.
Cornelius thought it over, he'd have to rush part of the plan he'd thought up over the last two weeks. But it should still work. "Start spreading rumors that my name is up for replacing Ridgewood."
Lysander nodded, but hesitated for a moment. He was an expert in getting word around the ministry but he obviously saw the same problem Cornelius did. The man wasn't stupid - for all that he was bad at the practical side of magic.
Cornelius growled, "Yes, man, I know it won't stick just like that. Both Fawley and Williamson are ahead of me, both in name and experience, that's why you'll spread the word that I'm being backed for the post by the Blacks!"
Lysander's eyes widened, "Are they? Backing you, I mean, Cornelius?" He asked with some trepidation. The name Black scared the hell out of most of the Ministry.
"They will be by the end of the week, at the latest." He said firmly.
"...I'f they hear this rumor before they back you…" Lysander warned.
"I'll deal with it, it won't be a problem." Cornelius scowled, waving a hand to dismiss him. Lysander immediately disappeared from the floo - already on his way to the ministry cafeteria to start spreading the word, no doubt stopping to chatter with a secretary or two - the real power behind the gossip at the Ministry.
Cornelius quickly walked into his office - fished his most expensive velium to write on out, and took care to write carefully and elegantly.
To the most honorable Lord Arcturus Black head of the Ancient and noble house or Black.
I have come upon an opportunity that will elevate both of our causes, and will ensure Black family supremacy for the future, avoiding perhaps the most destructive period in your family history to come.
I have proof of what I say and will be willing to swear an oath to that effect to ensure our meeting as soon as possible.
It is of utmost importance that we meet, I will agree to come wandless if necessary. I am well aware of you having no sufferance for fools, I would not risk this letter for anything less than world altering events.
Yours in magic
Cornelius Oswald Fudge
Hopefully the letter would be subservient enough to get in. That's all he needed. An in. Then he'd be an equal at the very least.
The Black family patriarch would hardly allow the family to go to ruin.
"Hatty!" He snapped. The house elf immediately appeared before him, bowing low.
"Take this immediately to Arcturus Black. Wait for a reply - unless he curses you, in that case return immediately." He ordered, having sealed the letter, he handed it to his elf. "Do not fail me at this, Hatty. Only Arcturus sees this letter…"
"Of course, Master, Hatty will do as master asked."
And with a pop, his elf was gone. The die had been cast.
He'd intended to approach in a month's time, slowly and carefully.
Quick and decisively would have to do.
Thirty two minutes later exactly, not that anyone was counting - Hatty returned with a reply, looking none the worse for the experience.
Cornelius still tested the elf for the Imperius curse and any other dark magic - just in case. As well as throwing every detection charm he knew at the envelope with the black family crest. It came away clean.
Of course the likes of them no doubt knew curses he'd have no hope to detect at his ability - he'd have to chance it.
With trepadation he opened it, grinning viciously as he read the sparse letter.
Fudge,
You better be right about the importance of this meeting or you won't walk out of it! Be at 12 Grinmauld place at 7pm.
You may bring your wand, you are no threat to me or mine.
It was simply signed with Black. No other name. Sensible, Arcturus did basically threaten to kill or maim him if he didn't deliver.
But he had his chance.
This meeting would set the table for both the victory and his eventual ascension to the Minister post.
Cornelius dressed in the finest robes he owned - a royal purple set, with Acromantula silk. It was a bit pretentious but it would do. He'd never actually worn it anywhere yet. A purchase for the future his original body had made. After collecting a sizable sum of galleons from Abraxas Malfoy to cover up a situation involving his son, and obliviating some muggle policemen.
Already Cornelius had collected a small cadre of patrons within the sacred twenty-eight and those noble families that surrounded them. Due to a willingness to make things go away for moronic pure blood heirs. He was already acquainted with Lucius due to this. All these small bribes and situations came from the same thing.
These spoiled brats that spent their summers muggle baiting or worse - and needed a quiet obliviator to make it go away as they weren't yet the scary death eaters who'd murder or memory charm their victims. At this stage they had it solved purely by the weight of their bank accounts - to Cornelius' benefit.
As distasteful as he found it now that he had taken over the body - he'd have to keep it up. The reputation that he could be negotiated with was vital for his survival through the war. And for his ascension to the Minister post. Once he was in charge - he could ensure the raping scum got their dementor dates in Azkaban. At this point he couldn't really do anything against them. Even if he were to try and charge the likes of Lucius Malfoy or Evan Rosier with their actions - their families would see him in Azkaban - or dead, long before there would be any consequences to their heirs. If there would ever even be any. The Wizengamot - even amongst the light faction - did not overly care about muggles.
Albus Dumbledore and Arthur Weasley were the aberrations on the subject - their views not the majority. Not even close.
He double checked his appearance for the last time, before Apparating to the street of 12 Grinmauld place.
He appeared on the street with a quiet pop - he immediately made for the Black townhouse in quick strides. Uncaring of any muggle that saw him in a robe - that minor deviation from the statue of secrecy was preferable to showing up at the home of the most ancient and noble house of Black dressed as a muggle.
He made a face briefly as he took in the Black townhouse - he could never understand the aesthetic some of these families went for. Foreboding was good and proper for such an illustrious family - but the Blacks seemed to take it to such an extreme it was more like a muggle goth phase then anything. And Cornelius found it very off putting and tacky. Both sides of him, really.
What was wrong with open space, some nice art, maybe some plants and warm homey colors - perhaps wooden paneling or floors as well. Oh, well. He'd have the money one day to show these uppity ponces how to really live.
As soon as he knocked on the door it creaked open - with accompanying creepy noises - Cornelius refused to believe the Blacks failed at maintaining their front door, so the noise must be purposefully spelled in. Like he thought - goth phase. Just in their case it's lasted centuries.
What could only be Kreacher peered out from the open crack - surly and suspiciously.
"Hello there, I am Cornelius Fudge, I have an appointment with Lord Arcturus Black." Cornelius said genially, even though he knew this particular house elf wouldn't care about his politeness one whit - it never hurt.
"Kreacher be knowing already, Kreacher be taking wizard to Master's office. Wizard not be touching anything!" Kreacher muttered, giving Cornelius a dirty glare as he fully opened the door and allowed him inside.
"Or course, lead on dear fellow!" Cornelius said affably, continuing to be pleasant - for practice if nothing else, as he kept a straight face following the surly elf - through the townhouse that screamed - we're trying so so hard to look dark and evil.
He thought he might have even caught a glimpse of Sirius Black, a child of around Hogwarts age at this time - who had peered down at him briefly from the top of some stairs - before Cornelius had continued on. It had only been a flash of black hair and gray eyes - but it was likely him, Regulus would not be so big at this point, he'd be what? 9?
Finally he arrived at the office - likely not Arcturus' own as Cornelius was fairly sure he didn't reside at 12 Grinmauld place. So his son's office. He got his first own close look at the Black patriarch - original him having seen him from afar at times at the Ministry.
Arcturus Black looked to be in his fifties, although Cornelius knew he was older then that - no sign of any depredation due to black madness then. Piercing gray eyes zeroed in on him as he entered, a well practiced sneer forming on his face as he waved towards an armchair in front of his desk without a word. He had coal black hair, kept short with streaks of silver touching the sides, the slight frown lines on his face - the only real signs of his advancing age. He looked remarkably put together and well groomed for someone that wouldn't live to see the second war - as far as canon goes.
"I'd offer you tea, but frankly I believe I will be cursing you blind and deaf in a minute for wasting my time - so I can't be bothered with the niceties." Arcturus said bluntly, leaning back in his chair, still studying him, while appearing fully relaxed.
"If I may, I would take out my wand and swear on my life and magic that I will not lie for the next hour - if that satisfies you?" Cornelius said carefully, "I would suggest for both our sakes that this talk remains private …" He finished, eyeing the elf still standing at attention by the door.
Arcturus scoffed, seemingly mulling over whether to continue this meeting as he met Cornelius' eyes - he must have found something to continue on, because he barked out suddenly, "Kreacher, bugger off somewhere!"
The elf bowed low and disappeared with a loud crack. The Black family patriarch pressed a heavy signet ring that he was wearing to the table and Cornelius could feel the wards settling around the room - they were remarkably unfriendly.
"Dumbledore himself could be sniffing around this room and not hear a single thing - so best be quick, out with it, why should I let you leave here with all your limbs, you muck crawler?" Arcturus growled, tapping the Black Lord's ring against the edge of the table, the dull thud seeming as if a countdown.
Cornelius raised his wand slowly - as to show that he was no threat, "I swear on my magic and on my life that I will only speak the truth for the next hour, and that all I have to say is truthful and correct with no lies as far as I know."
There was a flash of magic as magic itself accepted the vow. Cornelius slowly placed his wand back in his wand holster. "If that oath is not sufficient Lord Black, I can make another."
Arcturus shook his head slowly, looking disdainful still, "No, it will suffice. It does not however mean that your truth is something I care about, so out with it, before I lose my patience, Fudge."
"I have future knowledge and quite frankly the world goes to absolute shit because of our little dark lord problem - by the end of the 1990s the black family is eradicated. Only Narcissa and Andromeda alive - neither holding the name Black, both having had children and in Andromeda's case a grandchild - none of which take the name Black." Cornelius explained as succinctly as possible. The Black family woes would be the most important subject to get Arcturus onboard after all.
Said man had paled, and looked furious, Cornelius swallowed deeply as the wards of the room almost shivered, as if readying to activate and vaporize him.
"I don't believe you, this is a ploy of some sort. Who put you up to this? Abraxas? That fool Lestrange? Dumbledore? No, that goat wouldn't dare to be this underhanded, and ridiculous." Arcturus had stood up, glaring at Cornelius as he put a wrinkled hand into his robe and pulled out a black gnarly wand, pointing it at him. "I don't know how you fooled a magical oath, but you will tell me who sent you! Incarcerous!" Thick ropes encircled Cornelius before he could protest, tying him so tight to the armchair he could hardly breathe.
"It's a magical oath, it can't be faked!" Cornelius managed to gasp out, pleading with the black lord. He hadn't expected easy acceptance, but outright denial had not even crossed his mind.
Arcturus scoffed, walking off to a corner of the office outside of Cornelius' eyesight, he could hear the clinking of bottles. Would he poison him?
Arcturus returned to stand in front of him, a vial of a perfectly clear liquid in his hand. Veritaserum. Cornelius felt his heart pull back from its impending attack - a truth serum could only be good for him. Then he saw the wand being pointed at him again and braced himself.
"Imperio!" Arcturus snarled viciously. "Open your mouth and stick out your tongue!" He ordered as soon as the spell took hold.
Cornelius found that it was a truly blissful feeling to be under the Imperius. Like he was awash in a sea of pure contentment - until the order to open his mouth came. From nowhere it was like his mind snapped into place, wrestling back control, throwing off the Imperius. Perhaps having two lives had added benefits? He wasn't sure what other explanation there was for such an achievement.
Better still he had the sense to still open his mouth and stick out his tongue anyway. Throwing off the Black Lord's Imperius would only make him more wary of the proof from the Veritaserum. So Cornelius played along. Sitting still with an open mouth and his tongue out, trying to affect a slightly vacant look in his eyes. Pretending to be a Crabbe helped achieve the effect he sought.
"We'll see soon enough…" Arcturus muttered to himself as he slowly dripped three drops of the truth serum on Cornelius tongue, waving his wand after, in a careless flick - obviously meant to dispel the Imperius. Interesting, so the caster did not realize immediately that their spell failed. Something to keep in mind.
To Cornelius the effect of the Veritaserum did not feel too dissimilar to the Imperius curse. He felt content, with no troubles at all. This time he was unable to fight off the feeling. Although since he didn't really want to tell a lie - perhaps the struggle didn't have everything in it.
"Who sent you?" Arcturus barked out, wand still in Cornelius' face. The tip glowing ominously.
The answer easily rolled off his tongue, even as he felt a sort of pressure - forcing the words out. "No one, I came of my own accord." He answered blandly, almost vacantly. His mouth moving on its own, feeling numb and disconnected from the rest of him.
Arcturus looked thrown at that, lowering his wand slightly, "Why did you tell me that pack of lies?" He asked roughly. The knuckles of his wand hand turned white - he was grasping his wand so hard.
"They were not lies."
Arcturus let out a disbelieving laugh, falling back against his desk, "This isn't happening, I must be going mad…" He rubs his face wearily, "What happened to me? My sons?"
"Unknown, likely casualties in the war between the Ministry and Dumbledore against Lord Voldemort." Cornelius replied, still blandly, as forced out by the Veritaserum.
Arcturus fumbled around in his pockets for a moment, before finding a vial, reaching forward, "Open your mouth, it's the antidote to the Veritaserum." He said defeatedly, a wave of his wand vanishing the ropes holding Cornelius to the chair.
They both sat in silence for the moment. Cornelius worked his jaw which still felt slightly numb - although it was wearing off. And got his heart rate under control. That had been more exciting or terrifying than he'd expected.
"I will not apologize for my actions. Your story was outlandish." Arcturus said stiffly, before walking to his desk and slowly sinking down into his chair, looking devastated, "All gone, the oldest magical family in Britain, wiped out…" he shook his head, piercing eyes turning back to Cornelius. "Tell me how this comes to pass!"
Cornelius took a moment to think over his answer, "Realize, some of this is speculative and not something I know for certainty - I only know the details for your grandchildren's lives and deaths." He warned ahead of time, not needing another bout under the powerful patriarch's wand.
"Start with myself and Melania." Arcturus barked out, face reddening as his anger grew again, "Tell me how those bastards ruined the Black family!"
Cornelius wasn't sure if Arcturus even knew which bastards he was talking about, but continued on, "I only know that by 1981 you are most likely dead as is likely your wife. Black madness is the public excuse. But seeing how healthy you seem right now, I doubt you die of madness within the decade, you were likely poisoned or taken care of in another manner by Voldemort or his most loyal servant - to free his access to the Black family properties, vaults and library."
"Why 1981?" Arcturus asked suspiciously, "Why does that date make you assume my death, if as you say you do not have the full information somehow…"
"Because in 1981, Sirius Black the heir to the Black family, was sentenced to life in Azkaban without a trial, and I'd rather think that you'd have raised a stink about it if you were alive." Cornelius explained, "Granted, he'd run away from home and lived with the Potter's since his fifth year at Hogwarts and Walburga blasted him off the black family tapestry - but he was still your heir."
"I need whiskey for this conversation…" Arcturus muttered, a dark look in his eyes. "Aye, disinherited, runaway, no matter what I'd not have let the feckless ministry put a grandson of mine in Azkaban without a fight…" A twitch of his wand and a bottle of fire whiskey smashes it way out of a nearby cabinet, spreading glass shards everywhere. Cornelius barely flinched, he did raise a surprised eyebrow as the Black lord took a loud gulp from the bottle itself.
"Oh fuck off, Fudge, my whole family is apparently dead within the next two decades, let me drink in peace - I'm assuming Pollux, Cygnus and my son? Why didn't they help Sirius?" Arcturus grumbled, before taking another swig.
Cornelius twitched irritably, that was no way to treat what appeared to be a bottle of Ogden's finest - from their first year in business! "Cygnus and Druella are never mentioned in my future knowledge again after marrying off Bellatrix and Narcissa to Death Eaters - Voldemort's followers." He added on the last bit, because by this time that name might not be known, even to the Black lord, "I believe he survived to the 1990's but he died young, in his sixties - for what cause I do not know - and he never assisted Sirius."
Cornelius took a breath before continuing on, "As for Pollux and his sister Cassiopeia not much is known, and I can not state truthfully how or when they die - I can only say it is likely as they do not come to pick up the pieces of the black family - and the properties are left in a state of disrepair. Orion died in 1979, shortly after the news that Regulus died. Leaving Warburga as the only one in 12 Grimmauld place - leading to its absolute degradation until and after her own death."
"Sirius in hell, Regulus dead… What happens to the girls?" Arcturus asked, pained, eyes cloudy.
Cornelius sighed, "Not much better news. Narcissa survived past you all - and has a son, but she fully embraced the Malfoy name. She suffered much due to Lucius Malfoy's support of Voldemort." He took a deep breath preparing himself for the outrage, "Andromeda also outlived you all, by running away from the war and the family, marrying a muggleborn and having a daughter - the first metamorph in the Black family for a very long time. The war takes both her husband and daughter from her - but she lived."
"It's hard to even be pissed at the girl, she survived after all, and a metamorph child, that's nothing to scoff at, even if a half-blood." Arcturus muttered, smirking wryly as Cornelius gave him a disbelieving look, "Oh, I can be reasonable, Fudge. I may not like mudbloods, but she showed intelligence by getting out of what was apparently a shipwreck of massive proportions and then survived the fallout." He took another gulp of firewhiskey, "She earned the name Black."
"Yet she is going to be disinherited and does not carry it." Cornelius felt the need to point out.
Arcturus scoffed, and slapped his desk hard, "She's going to have a metamorph, allowances can be made - I'm hardly going to follow your future knowledge to our extinction. Now what about Bella - don't think I haven't noticed you've left her for last. What did the fool girl do?"
"She was married off to the Lestranges; they all became slavishly loyal to Voldemort. Bellatrix is sentenced to life in Azkaban for torturing the Longbottoms into insanity. Although I can not prove it - she likely had a hand in how many of your relatives ceased to exist by 1990." He hesitated for a moment, before continuing with the ending of the black family, "She also killed Sirius in the second war - your grandson broke himself out of Azkaban while Bellatrix had to be saved by Voldemort 2 years later. At the start of this second war, Bellatrix kills Sirius in a duel."
Arcturus looked at him quietly. "Bloody buggering hell." He swore, his hands unsteady.
His eyes gained a fervent light in them suddenly as he straightened up, "Now, you didn't tell me this because you enjoy showing me how worthless my ruddy family is - you have a plan…"
Cornelius smiled.
Author's note:
So nothing too special, just a fun little idea of Ministry shenanigans just as the whole shebang is beginning, seeing what one could do to improve things without being Voldemorted.
Could have milked it out for another 2-3 k words, but eh, it was a good enough stopping point, and I already have Mischief. If someone else wants to take it over and write a competent baddie Fudge bending the Ministry over and porking it - feel free.
Cheers
JollyHippopotamus
Saving the scummy one for this snippet.
Now I'm probably wildly wrong with ages and timelines. Consider it an AU.
As usual, I do not own Harry Potter or the associated companies that deliver material from it.
Enjoy!
Waking up in a new body is not what he would have called a pleasant experience, even if it started out easy enough. The first moments had been simple confusion - the bedroom being different then the one he went to sleep in.
He had thoughts of how much he must have drank the other night and wondered who he ended up going home with - someone posh, based on the canopy bed and the green and silver walls.
It was unusually trampy behavior for himself - he rarely did one night stands, and certainly not gallivanting to strangers' bedrooms, no matter how drunk.
His head was splitting as he slowly got out of bed and searched for a bathroom, the pain certainly advocating for the - got absolutely sloshed theory.
It was just… He didn't remember going out drinking at all - it had been a quiet night at home reading, as far as he could remember. He distinctly remembered his own bed at the very least.
If this was a kidnapping situation - they were remarkably loose, he thought, as he entered the bathroom unopposed, locating the sink and groaning in relief as he turned the ornate tap on - and splashed himself with cold water.
He looked up into the mirror, and stared in shock at the unfamiliar face staring back at him. Slowly he reached up and ran a hand over his genial looking fairly plain face - light grey eyes peered back at him in rising panic. His hands rose and grasped the coiffed russet coloured hair tightly. He winced in pain as he pulled on it, telling him this was indeed his actual hair - and his actual face, somehow.
A sudden splitting migraine slammed into him as he accepted the impossible and he fell to the bathroom floor - screaming, as a lifetime of memories drowned him - unforgiving and seemingly never-ending. The pain climbing higher and higher.
In what felt like hours - he whimpered on the floor as his two lifetimes of memories assimilated, if he had the power to move his extremities he might have ended it all right there to get away from the pain - but in the end he survived. The pain lessened, and he found out what his life was.
He, somehow, had become Cornelius Oswald Fudge.
The future Minister for Magic. From the Harry Potter story!
Because of course he wasn't minister yet, he'd arrived in 1970, just as everything was kicking off.
He passed out finally, mind not able to take anymore. Nor wonder on how on earth he'd taken over a man's life and why.
Simply thankful that the pain was done.
As he gingerly started moving in the morning, he was glad for some of the memories at least. Apparently good old Cornelius was on leave from the department of magical accidents and catastrophes due to an accident - he appreciated the irony, and the fact he didn't have work today.
It would give him some time to figure out what on earth he was supposed to do.
Having received his new life's memories up to this point, he knew he had graduated Hogwarts with decent grades - nothing spectacular, and in that vein gotten a decent job at the ministry - again, nothing spectacular. The fact he was a pureblood catapulting him over other more qualified applicants of lesser status.
Apparently he was indeed a pureblood with the whole - all the grandparents were pure - nonsense needed to qualify. Although the Fudge family had been a recent creation and a minor one - an offshoot of a disinherited Selwyn and a pureblood Belgian woman fleeing Grindelwald. The name Fudge literally only existed as a pureblood family in Britain since the 40's.
His Selwyn father and Fudge mother were both dead, since right after he graduated Hogwarts - apparently in mysterious circumstances, he had never been told the full picture by the Aurors. He had to wonder, what with the time period he was in - whether his Selwyn father had been approached for recruitment and been killed for refusing. He had been disinherited for his fascination with muggles - it's unlikely he'd have joined Voldemort. Not with his wife and Cornelius mother having fled another dark lord in Grindelwald.
Perhaps this is where canon Fudge's dislike of Arthur Weasley and his muggle interests stemmed from? Personally he didn't really care other than taking in the information - his other life having subsumed any emotions of this body he'd somehow taken over. He remembered the bodies life - but felt nothing for the people in it. It was just a set of memories.
He had been born in 1945 - and was currently 25. That would make him 50 for 1995 - the timeline seemed to match somewhat. Surely the minister he remembered from the books and movies was around that age. His memories held all the people it should, even though canon was far off - it appeared he wasn't in some weird alternate universe. So far.
He'd spent almost eight years in the department for magical accidents and catastrophes now. And he knew that in canon Fudge had remained there until somehow becoming minister twenty years from now.
He'd already reached the junior minister position canon Fudge would still have two decades from now - showing how spineless and useless this body he'd taken over really was. It's a magical miracle he'd somewhere made it as far as minister for magic. Perhaps something happened? A wife? He was currently single, his memories told him. And in eight years he'd moved respectably from a regular obliviator to a team lead - to interim head of the muggle worthy excuse committee - to PR undersecretary for the same committee once its head returned - to junior minister for the whole department. Basically one of three undersecretaries to the head of the department.
Not taking the world by storm - but not too bad of a resume for eight years either. He was basically prime material for head of the department or a transfer to a high position in another.
The war must have forced Fudge to temper his ambitions and stay safe in the junior minister position. Nothing else explained it. His memories showed a ambitious man - one that ensured he was known in the ministry and did 'favors' for the right people.
No wonder the likes of Lucius Malfoy eventually made use of him.
Fudge had graduated a Slytherin back in the 1957/58 school year. It certainly fit his avarice and ambition, although a lack of will or steel in his spine had led to the hat almost shunting him off to Hufflepuff. That ambition was the only thing that ensured a Slytherin sorting.
To his surprise as he pondered the life so far of the body he now possessed - he'd been somewhat lazy in school. That ambition apparently was not enough to make him work for it.
His pure blood got him into the department once he graduated - and got him promoted, as that same lack of work effort did not produce spectacular results in the ministry either, but his networking and ability to spin a tale and socialize - ensured his continued promotions thus far.
The only time Fudge had shone was the brief time he was the PR undersecretary for the muggle worthy excuse committee - dealing with, and planting the press stories to explain away magical accidents.
Now, he was Fudge. He'd better start thinking of himself as the man. Cornelius Fudge. And what this all could mean. He'd been an ambitious man himself - but now he had access to magic. Future knowledge - blackmail or information on most major players for the next twenty plus years.
Perhaps he'd make it to Minister for Magic a lot earlier this time. And without incompetence being the name of the game.
As he sat down in his small office in the modest family cottage the Fudge family had owned - and which now belonged solely to him. He wondered, what to take advantage of first, and how to ascend the ministry in a way that did not have him run afoul of Voldemort before his downfall.
First things first - he had two months of convalescence - although he felt fine, perhaps whatever happened to the real Fudge ended badly allowing him to take his body? He'd likely never know the how or why. Either way it gave him time. Time to study up on Occlumency and magic in general - and plan for his return to the ministry.
It would be a busy two months.
Not being a fool - the first thing he practiced was magic.
He'd been a decent obliviator, so that was useful magic to already have under the belt. But it soon became apparent he hadn't been using much else. He was no Lockhart - no one was that useless. But it appeared the most magic he'd used over the last eight years had been a mix of household spells, paperwork spells, Obliviate and Apparation.
He had very rudimentary Occlumency shields - another thing the very ambitious, but lazy sod - had started on but never finished.
This short discovery period of two days of trying various magic from different disciplines and seeing where he stacked up - led to the list.
- Perfect Obliviate, use the house elf, he'd hardly had any other use for the bugger.
- Fine tune Apparation - never discount the ability to get out of dodge in a war.
- Find Occlumency books - git good.
- Practice magic, don't be a Lockhart.
- Exercise and eat healthier - this pudgy body is neither attractive nor useful - running away has its uses as well when needed.
- Find a way to alter or create new NEWT results - Fudge did you drink a befuddlement charm before the tests? How does anyone get a T in DADA?
- Make allies before the return to the ministry.
- Learn imperio - it's just too damn useful, again the house elf isn't doing anything important.
- Before 8. Make damn sure no one can trace/track/find out, that I'm learning an unforgivable - check wards.
- Imperio or blackmail department head to resign and nominate him as the replacement - war was an excellent chance to get known and excel due to how busy the department is - but also not a big risk visavi Voldemort as the department only deals with aftermaths.
A simple ten step plan. Easy to write out, much harder to pull off in just two months. But not completely unreasonable. He'd mulled it over for the past day - while researching and reaching out to those that owed him favors.
He was no master of magic and likely never would be, but he already had a decent handle on Obliviate and surely Imperio could not be that difficult or different. He was fairly sure he could manage the intent and want to control, to use the spell properly.
"Hatty!" He called out sharply, as he sat staring at his list in his small office.
With a small crack the Fudge house elf arrived - clad in a clean and well worn uniform. Hatty with his big bulbous eyes and thin frame, was all that was left of his mother's side of the family - the house elves having fled with her, carrying the belongings. Hatty was born shortly before Cornelius himself had been.
Only being out on an errand had saved the house elf when his parents had 'disappeared' together with the other house elves.
Hatty bowed lowly and waited for his instructions - he'd been a right tosser to the creature - the only one he could force to treat him as he had wished to be treated.
He'd do better from now on - he knew how useful a fully loyal house elf could be.
Well… Better after he was done practicing. Luckily he'd double checked his wards and no magic performed in this house should alert any ministry personnel. He'd even sent an owl off to a 'friend' of sorts in the DMLE who confirmed that the wards would prevent any ministry surveillance as long as they were up. Not that he'd told him anything about what he was doing - but the man owed him a favor for obliviating a muggleborn family that had seen him be dastardly, so he answered promptly.
He aimed his wand - 11 inches, springy, elm with unicorn hair. He thought of dominating the creature before him, of controlling it's every thought and action - of the wish to have power, and he uttered the spell. "Imperio!"
He could feel the spell take effect immediately - feel it overpowering Hatty's will. He took a deep breath, testing this connection - it seemed solid.
The next hour he ordered the elf to do increasingly hard and ridiculous things, testing the spell, knowing the elf was naturally predisposed to obeying to begin with.
A quick Obliviate after he released him took care of matters, he'd have to practice that to make sure he fully removed the memories and replaced them properly - he wanted no chance of a resurgence. He'd have to continue to practice Imperio as well - to make sure he'd be able to overpower a human. Eventually he'd have to find another subject other than his house elf - but it would do as a start.
No wonder it was an unforgivable - as far as he could tell he certainly wasn't a magical powerhouse. Although he wasn't anywhere near a squib for that matter either. But that spell had come easy. Just needing the will to dominate.
He turned to his list.
Now where to go from here…
Over the next two weeks he practiced Apparation consistently until he got it down to an almost completely inaudible noise - and could apparate on the fly - immediately. Even if he was jumping in the air at the time, or even rolling around the ground.
He might have gotten a bit carried away with finding scenarios he'd have to escape from. No matter, they all worked. And that's what was most important.
He was pleased with the progress - he'd have to gain a portkey license at some point and work on that next - never knew when one could come in use, but Apparation was working wonderfully. Enough for his purposes surely.
He had progressed enough with his house elf in the first week - in Imperio and Obliviate. That in the second week he started testing it on muggles. To ensure it was working - nothing else.
He'd simply find muggle companies in the phone book and use a pay phone to call different companies for a consultation at his home. When they arrived, he brought them inside the wards and Imperioed them.
He found no difficulty in this task either. He wondered if original Fudge or himself was the cause for this ease in dominating someone's will.
Once he was done ensuring the spell worked - he Obliviated the muggle, planting fake memories of a consultation that ended in no sale, but had overall been a pleasant experience. He double and triple checked his alterations and could find no faults.
It seemed house elf practice truly had prepared him well enough - as a muggle showed no difference in difficulty.
Having been a muggle, so to speak. He found it slightly frustrating even though it benefited him. He was no longer a muggle after all. Yet the ease there was in controlling one - it did disquiet him slightly.
Thankfully he should not have much need for the spells in the future.
They were more of a backup - a just in case. Other than the planned retirement of his superior.
As for other magic he found that just based on memories - he was absolute pants at Transfiguration. No wolf packs conjured up to devour his enemies would be in his future. Thankfully he was pretty handy in charms - which helped him - with his new memories - to succeed in creating a corporeal patronus during the two weeks.
Although a Hippopotamus wasn't the most flattering of spirit animals…
As for DADA, he was able to improve on his abilities, his meta knowledge helping him with spells such as Stupefy and Expelliarmus. Better then nothing for now - he'd train to become at least competent In-between his job and ambitions, there would be a war going on after all.
He was interrupted in his musings over his progress by the quiet crack of his house elf appearing before him.
"Master has visitor in the floo." Hatty squeaked out, bowing low. The creature's large nose almost touched the floor in obeisance.
Cornelius frowned, "Who is it? I'm supposed to be in convalescence." He grouched.
"Mister Lawyett, Master, Hatty can ask wizard to leave?"
"No…No I'll see him.." Cornelius said, immediately making his way towards the small sitting room that held his fireplace.
Lysander Lawyett was his only minion really. A pureblood born from a union of such minor houses that he was barely considered one by the establishment.
He'd barely scraped by Hogwarts - and had only gotten into the department due to his blood and a hefty bribe from his father.
When Cornelius became a team leader of a small squad of obliviators, Lysander had been on that team - and had immediately cocked everything up.
Not only had he messed up obliviating the witnesses - but somehow he blew up their house in the process, requiring the whole neighborhood to be Obliviated.
Cornelius had covered it up for him - saved his job, and earned a devoted minion. Who couldn't really do magic, but was a terrific sneak, incredible with gossip and rumor mongering and so average and unremarkable that he could go anywhere in the ministry without anyone noticing who he was and what he was doing there.
So immensely useful. Cornelius wondered if the original had brought him all the way to the Minister's office - or if he had died due to the war, or wandered off into someone else's employ due to the original him cowering in the same position for the entire war.
"Lysander! How nice to see a friendly face!" He said cheerfully as he entered the sitting room. Spying the boring average brown haired face of his friend/minion sticking out of the fire, his droopy eyes always making him look exhausted.
"Cornelius! Glad to see you're feeling better! Sorry to bother you unannounced, but I had news I figured you'd want to hear right away!" Lysander said hurriedly.
Cornelius sat down in an armchair in front of the fire, brows furrowed. He wasn't about to let anyone into his wards until he felt himself ready - not even Lysander.
"Is this news safe through the floo? Who's floo are you even using right now, your office doesn't have one if I remember correctly?" He asked sharply.
"I'm in Ridgewood's office -" Lysander began babbling. Cornelius reared back eyes wide, hissing out between gritted teeth, "Circe's tits, man! What are you doing in the department heads office!?"
If this is what the man considered safe means of communication perhaps he had overestimated the memories he'd received about him.
"Cornelius no one's here! Ridgewood's dead!" Lysander protested loudly.
"Morgana's rotten twat!" Cornelius swore, getting up and pacing in front of the fireplace. He'd wanted the man out of the way, sure - in a month when he was ready. And not dead - he'd been a decent boss and a friendly enough man. "Do we know how?" He fired off, mind still whirling on how bad this would mess with his timeline.
"The official report is that he fell down the stairs." Lysander reported dutifully and dubiously. His little sneak didn't believe that one bit it seemed.
"I once saw the man take a rogue bludger from the department of magical games to the face - spit out his teeth and beat their department head like a muggle!" Cornelius snapped, irritated, fell down the stairs indeed!
"Do you want me to poke into it?"
Cornelius ran a hand through his hair, sighing. "No, absolutely not, there's no benefit for us in that."
"I can't be here for long, is there anything you want me to do?" Lysander asked plaintively.
Cornelius thought it over, he'd have to rush part of the plan he'd thought up over the last two weeks. But it should still work. "Start spreading rumors that my name is up for replacing Ridgewood."
Lysander nodded, but hesitated for a moment. He was an expert in getting word around the ministry but he obviously saw the same problem Cornelius did. The man wasn't stupid - for all that he was bad at the practical side of magic.
Cornelius growled, "Yes, man, I know it won't stick just like that. Both Fawley and Williamson are ahead of me, both in name and experience, that's why you'll spread the word that I'm being backed for the post by the Blacks!"
Lysander's eyes widened, "Are they? Backing you, I mean, Cornelius?" He asked with some trepidation. The name Black scared the hell out of most of the Ministry.
"They will be by the end of the week, at the latest." He said firmly.
"...I'f they hear this rumor before they back you…" Lysander warned.
"I'll deal with it, it won't be a problem." Cornelius scowled, waving a hand to dismiss him. Lysander immediately disappeared from the floo - already on his way to the ministry cafeteria to start spreading the word, no doubt stopping to chatter with a secretary or two - the real power behind the gossip at the Ministry.
Cornelius quickly walked into his office - fished his most expensive velium to write on out, and took care to write carefully and elegantly.
To the most honorable Lord Arcturus Black head of the Ancient and noble house or Black.
I have come upon an opportunity that will elevate both of our causes, and will ensure Black family supremacy for the future, avoiding perhaps the most destructive period in your family history to come.
I have proof of what I say and will be willing to swear an oath to that effect to ensure our meeting as soon as possible.
It is of utmost importance that we meet, I will agree to come wandless if necessary. I am well aware of you having no sufferance for fools, I would not risk this letter for anything less than world altering events.
Yours in magic
Cornelius Oswald Fudge
Hopefully the letter would be subservient enough to get in. That's all he needed. An in. Then he'd be an equal at the very least.
The Black family patriarch would hardly allow the family to go to ruin.
"Hatty!" He snapped. The house elf immediately appeared before him, bowing low.
"Take this immediately to Arcturus Black. Wait for a reply - unless he curses you, in that case return immediately." He ordered, having sealed the letter, he handed it to his elf. "Do not fail me at this, Hatty. Only Arcturus sees this letter…"
"Of course, Master, Hatty will do as master asked."
And with a pop, his elf was gone. The die had been cast.
He'd intended to approach in a month's time, slowly and carefully.
Quick and decisively would have to do.
Thirty two minutes later exactly, not that anyone was counting - Hatty returned with a reply, looking none the worse for the experience.
Cornelius still tested the elf for the Imperius curse and any other dark magic - just in case. As well as throwing every detection charm he knew at the envelope with the black family crest. It came away clean.
Of course the likes of them no doubt knew curses he'd have no hope to detect at his ability - he'd have to chance it.
With trepadation he opened it, grinning viciously as he read the sparse letter.
Fudge,
You better be right about the importance of this meeting or you won't walk out of it! Be at 12 Grinmauld place at 7pm.
You may bring your wand, you are no threat to me or mine.
It was simply signed with Black. No other name. Sensible, Arcturus did basically threaten to kill or maim him if he didn't deliver.
But he had his chance.
This meeting would set the table for both the victory and his eventual ascension to the Minister post.
Cornelius dressed in the finest robes he owned - a royal purple set, with Acromantula silk. It was a bit pretentious but it would do. He'd never actually worn it anywhere yet. A purchase for the future his original body had made. After collecting a sizable sum of galleons from Abraxas Malfoy to cover up a situation involving his son, and obliviating some muggle policemen.
Already Cornelius had collected a small cadre of patrons within the sacred twenty-eight and those noble families that surrounded them. Due to a willingness to make things go away for moronic pure blood heirs. He was already acquainted with Lucius due to this. All these small bribes and situations came from the same thing.
These spoiled brats that spent their summers muggle baiting or worse - and needed a quiet obliviator to make it go away as they weren't yet the scary death eaters who'd murder or memory charm their victims. At this stage they had it solved purely by the weight of their bank accounts - to Cornelius' benefit.
As distasteful as he found it now that he had taken over the body - he'd have to keep it up. The reputation that he could be negotiated with was vital for his survival through the war. And for his ascension to the Minister post. Once he was in charge - he could ensure the raping scum got their dementor dates in Azkaban. At this point he couldn't really do anything against them. Even if he were to try and charge the likes of Lucius Malfoy or Evan Rosier with their actions - their families would see him in Azkaban - or dead, long before there would be any consequences to their heirs. If there would ever even be any. The Wizengamot - even amongst the light faction - did not overly care about muggles.
Albus Dumbledore and Arthur Weasley were the aberrations on the subject - their views not the majority. Not even close.
He double checked his appearance for the last time, before Apparating to the street of 12 Grinmauld place.
He appeared on the street with a quiet pop - he immediately made for the Black townhouse in quick strides. Uncaring of any muggle that saw him in a robe - that minor deviation from the statue of secrecy was preferable to showing up at the home of the most ancient and noble house of Black dressed as a muggle.
He made a face briefly as he took in the Black townhouse - he could never understand the aesthetic some of these families went for. Foreboding was good and proper for such an illustrious family - but the Blacks seemed to take it to such an extreme it was more like a muggle goth phase then anything. And Cornelius found it very off putting and tacky. Both sides of him, really.
What was wrong with open space, some nice art, maybe some plants and warm homey colors - perhaps wooden paneling or floors as well. Oh, well. He'd have the money one day to show these uppity ponces how to really live.
As soon as he knocked on the door it creaked open - with accompanying creepy noises - Cornelius refused to believe the Blacks failed at maintaining their front door, so the noise must be purposefully spelled in. Like he thought - goth phase. Just in their case it's lasted centuries.
What could only be Kreacher peered out from the open crack - surly and suspiciously.
"Hello there, I am Cornelius Fudge, I have an appointment with Lord Arcturus Black." Cornelius said genially, even though he knew this particular house elf wouldn't care about his politeness one whit - it never hurt.
"Kreacher be knowing already, Kreacher be taking wizard to Master's office. Wizard not be touching anything!" Kreacher muttered, giving Cornelius a dirty glare as he fully opened the door and allowed him inside.
"Or course, lead on dear fellow!" Cornelius said affably, continuing to be pleasant - for practice if nothing else, as he kept a straight face following the surly elf - through the townhouse that screamed - we're trying so so hard to look dark and evil.
He thought he might have even caught a glimpse of Sirius Black, a child of around Hogwarts age at this time - who had peered down at him briefly from the top of some stairs - before Cornelius had continued on. It had only been a flash of black hair and gray eyes - but it was likely him, Regulus would not be so big at this point, he'd be what? 9?
Finally he arrived at the office - likely not Arcturus' own as Cornelius was fairly sure he didn't reside at 12 Grinmauld place. So his son's office. He got his first own close look at the Black patriarch - original him having seen him from afar at times at the Ministry.
Arcturus Black looked to be in his fifties, although Cornelius knew he was older then that - no sign of any depredation due to black madness then. Piercing gray eyes zeroed in on him as he entered, a well practiced sneer forming on his face as he waved towards an armchair in front of his desk without a word. He had coal black hair, kept short with streaks of silver touching the sides, the slight frown lines on his face - the only real signs of his advancing age. He looked remarkably put together and well groomed for someone that wouldn't live to see the second war - as far as canon goes.
"I'd offer you tea, but frankly I believe I will be cursing you blind and deaf in a minute for wasting my time - so I can't be bothered with the niceties." Arcturus said bluntly, leaning back in his chair, still studying him, while appearing fully relaxed.
"If I may, I would take out my wand and swear on my life and magic that I will not lie for the next hour - if that satisfies you?" Cornelius said carefully, "I would suggest for both our sakes that this talk remains private …" He finished, eyeing the elf still standing at attention by the door.
Arcturus scoffed, seemingly mulling over whether to continue this meeting as he met Cornelius' eyes - he must have found something to continue on, because he barked out suddenly, "Kreacher, bugger off somewhere!"
The elf bowed low and disappeared with a loud crack. The Black family patriarch pressed a heavy signet ring that he was wearing to the table and Cornelius could feel the wards settling around the room - they were remarkably unfriendly.
"Dumbledore himself could be sniffing around this room and not hear a single thing - so best be quick, out with it, why should I let you leave here with all your limbs, you muck crawler?" Arcturus growled, tapping the Black Lord's ring against the edge of the table, the dull thud seeming as if a countdown.
Cornelius raised his wand slowly - as to show that he was no threat, "I swear on my magic and on my life that I will only speak the truth for the next hour, and that all I have to say is truthful and correct with no lies as far as I know."
There was a flash of magic as magic itself accepted the vow. Cornelius slowly placed his wand back in his wand holster. "If that oath is not sufficient Lord Black, I can make another."
Arcturus shook his head slowly, looking disdainful still, "No, it will suffice. It does not however mean that your truth is something I care about, so out with it, before I lose my patience, Fudge."
"I have future knowledge and quite frankly the world goes to absolute shit because of our little dark lord problem - by the end of the 1990s the black family is eradicated. Only Narcissa and Andromeda alive - neither holding the name Black, both having had children and in Andromeda's case a grandchild - none of which take the name Black." Cornelius explained as succinctly as possible. The Black family woes would be the most important subject to get Arcturus onboard after all.
Said man had paled, and looked furious, Cornelius swallowed deeply as the wards of the room almost shivered, as if readying to activate and vaporize him.
"I don't believe you, this is a ploy of some sort. Who put you up to this? Abraxas? That fool Lestrange? Dumbledore? No, that goat wouldn't dare to be this underhanded, and ridiculous." Arcturus had stood up, glaring at Cornelius as he put a wrinkled hand into his robe and pulled out a black gnarly wand, pointing it at him. "I don't know how you fooled a magical oath, but you will tell me who sent you! Incarcerous!" Thick ropes encircled Cornelius before he could protest, tying him so tight to the armchair he could hardly breathe.
"It's a magical oath, it can't be faked!" Cornelius managed to gasp out, pleading with the black lord. He hadn't expected easy acceptance, but outright denial had not even crossed his mind.
Arcturus scoffed, walking off to a corner of the office outside of Cornelius' eyesight, he could hear the clinking of bottles. Would he poison him?
Arcturus returned to stand in front of him, a vial of a perfectly clear liquid in his hand. Veritaserum. Cornelius felt his heart pull back from its impending attack - a truth serum could only be good for him. Then he saw the wand being pointed at him again and braced himself.
"Imperio!" Arcturus snarled viciously. "Open your mouth and stick out your tongue!" He ordered as soon as the spell took hold.
Cornelius found that it was a truly blissful feeling to be under the Imperius. Like he was awash in a sea of pure contentment - until the order to open his mouth came. From nowhere it was like his mind snapped into place, wrestling back control, throwing off the Imperius. Perhaps having two lives had added benefits? He wasn't sure what other explanation there was for such an achievement.
Better still he had the sense to still open his mouth and stick out his tongue anyway. Throwing off the Black Lord's Imperius would only make him more wary of the proof from the Veritaserum. So Cornelius played along. Sitting still with an open mouth and his tongue out, trying to affect a slightly vacant look in his eyes. Pretending to be a Crabbe helped achieve the effect he sought.
"We'll see soon enough…" Arcturus muttered to himself as he slowly dripped three drops of the truth serum on Cornelius tongue, waving his wand after, in a careless flick - obviously meant to dispel the Imperius. Interesting, so the caster did not realize immediately that their spell failed. Something to keep in mind.
To Cornelius the effect of the Veritaserum did not feel too dissimilar to the Imperius curse. He felt content, with no troubles at all. This time he was unable to fight off the feeling. Although since he didn't really want to tell a lie - perhaps the struggle didn't have everything in it.
"Who sent you?" Arcturus barked out, wand still in Cornelius' face. The tip glowing ominously.
The answer easily rolled off his tongue, even as he felt a sort of pressure - forcing the words out. "No one, I came of my own accord." He answered blandly, almost vacantly. His mouth moving on its own, feeling numb and disconnected from the rest of him.
Arcturus looked thrown at that, lowering his wand slightly, "Why did you tell me that pack of lies?" He asked roughly. The knuckles of his wand hand turned white - he was grasping his wand so hard.
"They were not lies."
Arcturus let out a disbelieving laugh, falling back against his desk, "This isn't happening, I must be going mad…" He rubs his face wearily, "What happened to me? My sons?"
"Unknown, likely casualties in the war between the Ministry and Dumbledore against Lord Voldemort." Cornelius replied, still blandly, as forced out by the Veritaserum.
Arcturus fumbled around in his pockets for a moment, before finding a vial, reaching forward, "Open your mouth, it's the antidote to the Veritaserum." He said defeatedly, a wave of his wand vanishing the ropes holding Cornelius to the chair.
They both sat in silence for the moment. Cornelius worked his jaw which still felt slightly numb - although it was wearing off. And got his heart rate under control. That had been more exciting or terrifying than he'd expected.
"I will not apologize for my actions. Your story was outlandish." Arcturus said stiffly, before walking to his desk and slowly sinking down into his chair, looking devastated, "All gone, the oldest magical family in Britain, wiped out…" he shook his head, piercing eyes turning back to Cornelius. "Tell me how this comes to pass!"
Cornelius took a moment to think over his answer, "Realize, some of this is speculative and not something I know for certainty - I only know the details for your grandchildren's lives and deaths." He warned ahead of time, not needing another bout under the powerful patriarch's wand.
"Start with myself and Melania." Arcturus barked out, face reddening as his anger grew again, "Tell me how those bastards ruined the Black family!"
Cornelius wasn't sure if Arcturus even knew which bastards he was talking about, but continued on, "I only know that by 1981 you are most likely dead as is likely your wife. Black madness is the public excuse. But seeing how healthy you seem right now, I doubt you die of madness within the decade, you were likely poisoned or taken care of in another manner by Voldemort or his most loyal servant - to free his access to the Black family properties, vaults and library."
"Why 1981?" Arcturus asked suspiciously, "Why does that date make you assume my death, if as you say you do not have the full information somehow…"
"Because in 1981, Sirius Black the heir to the Black family, was sentenced to life in Azkaban without a trial, and I'd rather think that you'd have raised a stink about it if you were alive." Cornelius explained, "Granted, he'd run away from home and lived with the Potter's since his fifth year at Hogwarts and Walburga blasted him off the black family tapestry - but he was still your heir."
"I need whiskey for this conversation…" Arcturus muttered, a dark look in his eyes. "Aye, disinherited, runaway, no matter what I'd not have let the feckless ministry put a grandson of mine in Azkaban without a fight…" A twitch of his wand and a bottle of fire whiskey smashes it way out of a nearby cabinet, spreading glass shards everywhere. Cornelius barely flinched, he did raise a surprised eyebrow as the Black lord took a loud gulp from the bottle itself.
"Oh fuck off, Fudge, my whole family is apparently dead within the next two decades, let me drink in peace - I'm assuming Pollux, Cygnus and my son? Why didn't they help Sirius?" Arcturus grumbled, before taking another swig.
Cornelius twitched irritably, that was no way to treat what appeared to be a bottle of Ogden's finest - from their first year in business! "Cygnus and Druella are never mentioned in my future knowledge again after marrying off Bellatrix and Narcissa to Death Eaters - Voldemort's followers." He added on the last bit, because by this time that name might not be known, even to the Black lord, "I believe he survived to the 1990's but he died young, in his sixties - for what cause I do not know - and he never assisted Sirius."
Cornelius took a breath before continuing on, "As for Pollux and his sister Cassiopeia not much is known, and I can not state truthfully how or when they die - I can only say it is likely as they do not come to pick up the pieces of the black family - and the properties are left in a state of disrepair. Orion died in 1979, shortly after the news that Regulus died. Leaving Warburga as the only one in 12 Grimmauld place - leading to its absolute degradation until and after her own death."
"Sirius in hell, Regulus dead… What happens to the girls?" Arcturus asked, pained, eyes cloudy.
Cornelius sighed, "Not much better news. Narcissa survived past you all - and has a son, but she fully embraced the Malfoy name. She suffered much due to Lucius Malfoy's support of Voldemort." He took a deep breath preparing himself for the outrage, "Andromeda also outlived you all, by running away from the war and the family, marrying a muggleborn and having a daughter - the first metamorph in the Black family for a very long time. The war takes both her husband and daughter from her - but she lived."
"It's hard to even be pissed at the girl, she survived after all, and a metamorph child, that's nothing to scoff at, even if a half-blood." Arcturus muttered, smirking wryly as Cornelius gave him a disbelieving look, "Oh, I can be reasonable, Fudge. I may not like mudbloods, but she showed intelligence by getting out of what was apparently a shipwreck of massive proportions and then survived the fallout." He took another gulp of firewhiskey, "She earned the name Black."
"Yet she is going to be disinherited and does not carry it." Cornelius felt the need to point out.
Arcturus scoffed, and slapped his desk hard, "She's going to have a metamorph, allowances can be made - I'm hardly going to follow your future knowledge to our extinction. Now what about Bella - don't think I haven't noticed you've left her for last. What did the fool girl do?"
"She was married off to the Lestranges; they all became slavishly loyal to Voldemort. Bellatrix is sentenced to life in Azkaban for torturing the Longbottoms into insanity. Although I can not prove it - she likely had a hand in how many of your relatives ceased to exist by 1990." He hesitated for a moment, before continuing with the ending of the black family, "She also killed Sirius in the second war - your grandson broke himself out of Azkaban while Bellatrix had to be saved by Voldemort 2 years later. At the start of this second war, Bellatrix kills Sirius in a duel."
Arcturus looked at him quietly. "Bloody buggering hell." He swore, his hands unsteady.
His eyes gained a fervent light in them suddenly as he straightened up, "Now, you didn't tell me this because you enjoy showing me how worthless my ruddy family is - you have a plan…"
Cornelius smiled.
Author's note:
So nothing too special, just a fun little idea of Ministry shenanigans just as the whole shebang is beginning, seeing what one could do to improve things without being Voldemorted.
Could have milked it out for another 2-3 k words, but eh, it was a good enough stopping point, and I already have Mischief. If someone else wants to take it over and write a competent baddie Fudge bending the Ministry over and porking it - feel free.
Cheers
JollyHippopotamus
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