A few days later...
On the outskirts of Bucharest, Romania's capital, a guesthouse now served as the quarters of the British Ministry of Magic's delegation.
Fudge sat before the fireplace, holding a warm glass of Romanian Pine-Nut Brandy. As he watched the flames, he was already planning how to parade this political achievement at the Ministry meeting after returning to London tomorrow.
An Auror assigned to guard him approached and reminded him quietly, "Minister, it's late. You should get some rest. We're returning to London tomorrow, so you shouldn't drink any more."
Fudge frowned in displeasure. He was just about to pull rank and reprimand the Auror when something suddenly happened.
Bang.
The sound came from the doorway leading to the corridor, though it was not particularly loud. Fudge and the Auror looked toward it in confusion. The door, which should have been firmly shut, now stood open, and the two Aurors who should have been guarding it lay on the floor.
Several wizards in black robes stepped through the doorway, wands in hand and murder in their eyes.
At the sight, Fudge's hand shook in fright, spilling half his brandy onto his trousers. His bodyguard, however, immediately drew his wand.
Only when Fudge saw the Auror's wand did he belatedly begin fumbling for his own. Then he remembered that it was in its case in his bedroom, leaving him utterly at a loss.
"We're under attack!"
The Auror beside him roared, his eyes wide with fury and alarm. His wand instantly swung toward Fudge. "Protego! Minister, run!"
"Avada Kedavra!" The Black-Robed Wizard attacked the Auror without hesitation.
The sickly green light swept forth like the Grim Reaper's scythe. Before the bodyguard could even turn his wand on the enemy, it snuffed out his life.
"Someone! Help! Someone, save me!"