Fan Fiction (Shorts)

Little B

“Father! Father! Look!” Little B ran into his father’s meeting with the Minister of Magic, looking rather preoccupied with the gold button he was holding up high.

“It’s a button! I found… a button.” Little B looked around the room, and the men in suits were staring back at him. And then looking at his father, he knew he had done something wrong, even though he did not know what it was.

Taking him roughly by the wrist, his father pulled him outside and shouted, “Nancy!”

A young lady hurried to them, apologizing as she mumbled something about losing him. But his father merely grunted as he shoved Little B to Nancy and disappeared behind the white wooden doors.

“You have been a bad boy Little B!” Nancy said as she looked into the eyes of the confused child.

“I did something wrong,” Little B said as he dropped his head, along with the gold button in his hand.

Nancy sighed as she took him by the hand and pulled him along the red carpeted hallway. She then brought him to his father’s office where she sat him down, gave him some cookies and milk, and told him not to move.

Little B did as he was told, as he knew he was already in big trouble. He wished his mother was around, so he could ask why his father was angry with him, but she was away, visiting his sick aunt.

Little B had never followed his father to work. He was not allowed to. But since his mother was away, they had no one to look after him and his father was forced to bring him along. This was his first day in his father’s office, and he somehow knew it would be his last. His father would rather put him at a muggle daycare center than take him to work after what had happened today.

Overwhelmed with confusion, Little B quickly wiped the tears off his cheeks.

“Man do not cry! Father says so,” he told himself as he waited.

Little B waited till his father returned, but he did not say a word as he watched his father work. He did not mutter, or grumble. He did not even raise his hand when he got thirsty. Little B waited till the clock chimed at 5 p.m, when he hurriedly followed his father out of the office, ready to head home.

It was not till they reached the floo network that his father saw him and muttered, “Ah, at least you are smart enough to tag along. I would have left you behind if you have not.”

Those words left a sting in his little heart. Did his father actually forget about him?

Little B did not say anything as he hurried into the chimney, next to his father, and held on to his father’s cloak.

Moments later, they had arrived home, and before he could speak, his father waved him away.

Little B retreated to his room, changed into a new set of clothes and sat on his bed, waiting to be called for dinner. And then the knock on the door came.

“Dinner time Little B,” his old and fragile house elf said.

Little B then smiled to himself. Maybe at dinner time, he could talk to his father and say he was sorry, then his father would not be angry with him anymore. With hope, Little B hurried to the dinner table and waited.

After all the food was served, Little B waited for his father to join him, but his father never came.

“Is father coming for dinner?” Little B asked the house elf, but the house elf shook his head sympathetically at him.

Unwillingly, he waited no longer and finished up his meal. He then let the house elf help him in the shower, and get ready for bed. But just as he was about to tuck himself in, his house elf came with a parcel in hand.

“From your mother,” he said, and then he left.

Little B excitedly ripped it open to find a color changing quill and a letter attached to it. He may not be very good at reading, but he knew his mother’s letter would not be hard.

‘ Happy Birthday Little B!

You are mommy’s big boy now! How is it like being three years old?

Mommy is really sorry. Mommy wish she could be there to blow the candles off your cake with you, but your aunt is very very ill.

You must hang in there Little B. Mommy will be back soon, and then mommy can continue your favourite bedtime story about Little Barty!

I hope you like your present. You can draw a picture for mommy with it!

I love you Little B. So so much! ‘

“There’s no cake, mommy,” Little B said in response to the letter.

And then folding the letter, he slid it under his pillow and rested his small head.

Pulling up the blankets to his chest, Little B recited, “There was once a boy named Barty Junior. He was a very happy boy. His mommy loved him so much, and his daddy too. His daddy was an important man, that was why he can’t take Barty to the park. But Barty don’t have to worry, cause he has his beautiful mommy to take him. Barty loves his mommy, and his daddy. And Barty will always be a happy little boy…”

Fan Fiction (Shorts)

Goblin Crusher

“The Goblin Crusher has done it again. Witnesses from Gringotts have claimed that Cornelius Fudge, our newly elected minister of magic, has been threatening the Goblins during his daily visits. Not only so, he was said to be seen throwing one over a cliff as a warning to the rest.

How far will Cornelius fudge go just to get his dirty hands on Gringotts? One can’t really tell. All we do know is that our beloved minister has no respect for other magical creatures, as he undermines their value….”

“Bloody rumours. They don’t know what they are writing about,” his assistant said as Cornelius Fudge threw The Quibbler into the fireplace.

“Sir, if-”

“I need some time alone, to think,” Cornelius said as he waved for his assistant to leave. His assistant nodded and left his side immediately.

“Goblin crusher. Couldn’t come up with a better name could they?” Cornelius scoffed.

As he took a seat by the fireplace, the sun was already slowly setting, casting hard shadows in his office. Its weak rays found a spot on the coffee table, where a draft of tomorrow’s Daily Prophet lay.

Its headlines read, ” Minister of Magic denies Goblin rumors” right above a picture of Cornelius Fudge in his best pressed suit.

“Our newly elected Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge, denies the claims of his violent acts towards the Goblins at Gringotts Bank.

“The Quibbler, like many other non-commercialized newspapers, is only seeking attention once again. Spreading rumors has always been their forte, and it is our duty not to buy into such rumors, to keep the peace among our people,” says the minister of magic.”

By the time Cornelius had relived the day of which he gave that statement, his office was finally swallowed with darkness. But the flickering light from the dim fireplace failed to hide the satisfaction on his face. Once again, he knew he had done it. He was untouchable, no matter what those who were against him say or do.

But how, how did they manage to get such information of him? That was the question that kept bothering him. He had never failed to be discreet, and just as he was about to brush the thought aside, a memory slipped right onto the tip of his mind.

It had been raining for days, but Cornelius did not find it as an excuse not to pay his little friends a visit. He had been informed that a group of his wildly intelligent friends were gathering by a clearing in the forest, to discuss on how they could black mail him. And so before they could decided, he was going to barge in and offer them a solution.

Together with his trusted assistant, his wand, he stormed into the clearing. Rain pelted on his heated face, and when they saw him, they tried to scatter. But to his delight, they could not escape from his binding spells.

As he rounded their stiff bodies and assembled them in front of him, he asked one simple question, “Who’s in charge?”

But none of them dared to answer as they started breaking into cold sweat.

“Tell me, or I’ll drop him!” Cornelius ordered as he moved a goblin towards the edge of a cliff and hovered him in the air with his wand.

Only shivers and whimpers could be heard from the small crowd of drenched goblins.

“Fine,” Cornelius said as he pulled his wand away and a scream echoed the air.

“Who’s next?!” Cornelius asked.

Just when one of them was about to answer, he heard a crack. It was distinct even under the pouring rain. As he searched among the trees, he spotted a figure, running away from the scene.

His heart stopped briefly before he dashed after it. It was small and fast, but he could not make out what it was. When he finally came out of the forest into the nearby town, he knew he had lost it. He decided not to return to the goblins as leaving them there would teach them a lesson about treachery. But he kept his eye out, just in case he was still being watched.

Drenched coat and soaked hat, Cornelius hurried to a nearby tavern for shelter. Once he had ordered a warm glass of butterbeer, he spotted something rather peculiar.

A few tables away from him was a child, who held a copy of the Daily Prophet upright, but upside down. Dripping on the floor around her were the water from her cloak in which she was still wearing.

As he stood up, certain he had caught the figure who was spying on him, a familiar voiced called out to him.

“Minister! What are you doing here on a rainy day?”

Turning around only to find the annoying Xenophilus Lovegood, Cornelius quickly searched for the child again, but she was gone. The only thing left of her was the puddle of water under her seat.

The puddle of water was painted so clearly in his mind that he knew that child was The Quibbler’s informer. But who was that child? Pale with dirty blond hair. Immediately it struck him, it was Lovegood’s daughter.

“Why, that man would use his own child?!” Cornelius was rather surprise.

But was there really anything to be surprise off? It was time for Cornelius to keep an eye out, especially on the little girl who might have already known too much.

And boy, did he dislike being around children after that. Their sneaky little hands could steal everything he had worked so hard for. Perhaps Cornelius Fudge would deny this, but he possibly feared children more than Dementors.

(Bestsellerteen requested a story on Cornelius Fudge, you can request a story too in the comments below!)