Edmund Blackadder, pureblood wizard and razor-tongued bastard, stalked through the corridors of the Ministry, muttering various imprecations at the world in general, and at the Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge in particular. He could not believe the mess the man had gotten into this time.

He rounded a corner, intent on the Minister's office at the end of the corridor, and tripped rather spectacularly over a lump huddled against the wall. "Not again..." Edmund thought before he hit carpet with a resounding thud. After a quick look to see that no one was around, Edmund pulled himself up from the carpet, arranging his robes into some semblance of order.

"I have been cursed since the day I was born, by the great god of curses, Krutacius Kurzealot!"

"I shouldn't think so Mr. B. It was your mum who was curs-" Blackadder turned around, giving his full attention to the heap of rags he had tripped over.

"If I wanted an eyewitness account of my birth, Baldrick, I'd ask myself." Baldrick just stared at him and scratched his head.

"Don't do that Baldrick. You might kill those little vermin you use for brains. Dare I ask what you are doing in the ministry buildings?"


"Never mind. Just get out of here before someone mistakes you for a particularly nasty cross between a goblin and a house elf and decides to report you to the Ministry for Magical Misbreeding. On second thought, stay as long as you like, just don't mention you know me. All right?"

"Right. I may stay as long as I like and I don't know any Mr. Edmund Blackadder...But Mr. B! I've been a loyal servant of the Blackadders for generations."

"And haven't we regretted every moment of it. Just go home Baldrick."

"I can't sir." Edmund sighed.

"And why is that?"

"I lost the portkey Sir." A thought occurred to Edmund.

"This wouldn't happen to be your special portkey, would it?" he asked. Baldrick nodded. "And what did you eat today?" Baldrick smiled happily.

"A turnip. Quite a big one too. Special you might say."

"Special like a special portkey maybe?" Baldrick nodded happily and Edmund waited patiently for Baldrick to put two and two together. He gave up rather quickly when he realized that Baldrick had never managed that particular feat of mental agility. With a sigh, he considered the idea of bringing Baldrick with him to see Cornelius Fudge. He could cause incalculable damage if he was in Fudge's presence, but out here in the corridors, his enemies might use Baldrick for some nefarious purpose. Not that that wouldn't be a bad idea, but he didn't want it rebounding back on him.

"Come on Baldrick. Follow me, keep your head down and don't speak." He took a quill out of his robes and handed it to Baldrick. "Oh, and jam that up your nose a few times as a punishment for living." He strode down the corridor, followed by a preoccupied Baldrick.

Blackadder found Fudge at his usual occupation, doing the crossword puzzle in the Daily Prophet. This would not have been an unusual sight, if it hadn't been for the fact that it was the crossword from the January 23, 1988 issue of the Daily Prophet, and that he had been working on the same crossword since then.

"Ah! Come in Edmund. You wouldn't happen to know the name of the person who defeated You-Know-Who would you?"

"Harry Potter."

"You don't say?" He started filling in the blanks. "Well his name doesn't fit in the blank. Surely there must have been someone else?" Edmund wandered over to the desk, and looked over the crossword puzzle.

"Harry Potter doesn't have a 'g' in it. Nor does it have a 'u' or 'n'. Not to mention the double 'o'."

"Right. Right. Of course." Fudge pushed the crossword to one side. "What can I do for you Edmund?"

"Perhaps you could tell me why you told the Daily Prophet earlier that You-Know-Who had not returned?"

"That's because he hasn't returned. There is no proof." Fudge looked remarkably firm for someone who was usually such a dithering idiot. Edmund resisted the urge to call him one.

"With all due respect Minister. The Muggle-borns are disappearing at an alarming rate, not to mention the Dark Mark being seen over fifty times in the past week. It couldn't be more obvious that You-Know-Who was back unless he showed up outside the ministry and spray painted 'I am Lord Voldemort' in twenty-foot high neon green glowing letters."

"Don't say that name!" cried Fudge.

"Did he Mr. B?" Blackadder rounded on his idiot servant.

"Did he what?" he asked in a dangerous tone.

"Did he spray pain-" Blackadder took out his wand and transfigured Baldrick into a cockroach, than stepped on him. It was an insult to cockroaches around the world, but it was the best he could do in front of Fudge.

"I'm sorry Minister. What were you saying?" Fudge was staring at the crossword puzzle again.

"Hmm? Oh right. The official position of the ministry is that You-Know-Who has not returned."

"So there will be no resisting when he takes over then?"

"Well, no, but since he hasn't returned..."

"I'll take my leave then Minister." Fudge didn't even notice him leave. Edmund transfigured Baldrick back to his usual abnormal state, than headed angrily down the corridor.

"We're all going to die while that pimple of the wizarding world tries to figure out how to spell 'cauldron'!"

"Don't despair Mr. B. I have a cunning plan."

"You spent half the conversation as a cockroach Baldrick, and while I will admit that increased your cerebral matter a hundred fold, you have no hope of coming up with a cunning plan."

"But you see. All we need is a huge courgette and-"

"Shut up!"

"And a-" Edmund punched him.

"Let me explain something to you Baldrick. I could help Voldemort kill Harry Potter in front of Fudge and he still wouldn't admit that You-Know-Who was alive. He's too afraid of his own shadow to do anything." Baldrick shrugged.

"To bad you can't help Mr. Voldemort then. I'll bet he knows he's alive." Edmund turned to stare at Baldrick.

"I think you'll be spending time as a cockroach more often Baldrick."

Two months later...

Edmund Blackadder surreptitiously rubbed his newly applied Dark Mark, and joined the waiting circle of Death Eaters. He was sure that Lord Voldemort would win. It was only a matter of time. And when he did, Edmund Blackadder would be there to stab him in the back, and take the glory for himself.


Reviews are appreciated. And yes, there will be a sequel.

Disclaimer: Blackadder isn't mine. If it were, there would be more than six episodes to a season…Harry Potter's world doesn't belong to me either.