Chapter Twenty Eight - Teddybears and Medals

Disclaimer: The Harry Potter universe belongs to the proverbial Duchess of Magic, JK Rowling, Scholastic, Bloomsbury, Warner Bros and some other high falutin' companies. No matter how much I whine about not owning anything related to the HP universe, other than a few fanfic plots, I do not profess to own - and would never dream of making any money off - JKR's wonderful world... Damn it!

Chapter Twenty Eight - Teddybears and Medals

_‗_

—==(oIo)==—

ˇ

It was the very next morning when a large abundance of owls swooped in carrying large envelopes and headed directly for the Slytherin table. Particularly, towards one skinny blonde male teenager.

Harry glanced at both girls and said, "You're grinning too much. He'll know it was us if he looks this way."

Luna cocked an eyebrow at them before she looked towards the Slytherin table, herself. She was just in time to watch as Malfoy began to loudly berate the owls as they all tried to get to him at once. His dorm and House mates began to shy away from him as more owls flocked in.

The sheer number of owls, of course, quickly had the attention of everyone in the Hall.

As Malfoy tried as quickly as he could to shed the owls of their loads, everyone watched as Goyle opened one of the envelopes. In full view of everyone, he pulled out a magazine with a picture of a half-naked man on the cover.

This had the whole Hall gawking as both Professor Snape and McGonagall swooped down upon them.

Before they got there, though, Goyle had already opened another and pulled a similar magazine from within, unconcernedly holding it up.

The three bondmates were trying their hardest to stifle their laughter as Professor McGonagall practically snatched the latest magazine out of Goyle's hand, and looked at it.

The Professor took a long moment to read the cover before she rounded on Malfoy and practically screeched, "Mister Malfoy! What is the meaning of this?" As she waved the magazine almost under the boy's nose.

That started the Hall snickering, at first, before they began to laugh. That allowed the three bondmates to finally release their own laughter.

A very red faced Malfoy was spluttering, "I don't know, Professor! This has nothing to do with me!"

That brought the Headmaster down to find out what was going on.

"Well, they have your name on them, Mister Malfoy!" she shot right back. "Or, should I be calling you, Draco Teddybear Malfoy?"

That was it for the student population. Just about every student began almost howling with laughter. Some of the staff was trying to look appalled but were failing miserably with grins on their faces.

By then, Professor McGonagall realised what was going on and was trying her best to ensure she didn't so much as smile. However, the twinkling in her eyes showed her own mirth.

Meanwhile, Professor Snape was scowling at his godson, one moment; and doing his best to vanish the loads of magazines as they were released from the owls, the next.

The rest of Slytherin House were trying their damnedest to slide along the benches as far away from Malfoy as possible. The table almost appeared to be of two smaller Houses with Malfoy sitting between them. Even Goyle eventually saw the wisdom of that, though not Crabbe.

"It appears Mister Malfoy has been the victim of a well-executed prank, Minerva," said Dumbledore.

"You think?" she shot back. In a clear voice she exclaimed, "I don't think Mister Teddybear... sorry, Malfoy... would be so foolish as to subscribe to a magazine called 'Your Wizard'... which is clearly of nude men... and have it delivered in the Great Hall at breakfast!"

Professor Flitwick, bless him, fell off his chair and to the floor, where he proceeded to roll back and forth while howling with laughter. Professor Sprout was attempting to simultaneously berate her colleague while also laughing her head off at the table. Other students were matching him roll for roll.

Of course, the sheer amount of noise was also upsetting the owls who were still trying to deliver their loads. They were flying about above the scene while hooting, screeching and barking their displeasure.

As other students began leaving, Harry snuck the three of them and Luna out of the Great Hall, lest it give someone ideas they had something to do with it.

_‗_

—==(oIo)==—

ˇ

The next morning, Harry received a letter from the Minister's own office. It was even signed by him.

"Hmm," he muttered, flipping it over to open it.

A quick read through and he handed it off to Daphne, as Hermione was looking far too eager to read it. The girl still needed to curb her demands to know information.

"Nice," said Daphne, staring at Hermione for her eagerness. Once Hermione backed off, she then handed her the letter.

"It's about time," said Daphne.

Once Hermione practically devoured it with her eyes, she let out a bit of squeal and hugged Harry.

"So, next weekend," said Harry. "The Minister, himself, wants to award me the Order of Merlin in the Atrium of the Ministry at 10:00am, sharp, Saturday."

"Uh-hmm," she said. Looking at Hermione, she asked, "And what shall we dress him in?"

"Huh?" asked Harry.

"I think that might depend on what the colour of the ribbon is," said Hermione, thinking about it.

"Crimson," replied Daphne. "And the medal is gold."

"Greens to contrast, or Reds to compliment?" asked Hermione.

"Reds," said Daphne. "We don't want it to look like he deliberately dressed to make the Order stand out. Besides, he's an heir of Gryffindor, and he used the Gryffindor sword at the time."

"Reds it is," agreed Hermione.

"Do I get a say in this?" he asked, a little affronted.

"No; not for something this important," disagreed Hermione. "If you could, you'd turn up in jeans and a pullover. And claim that you'd dressed 'neatly'."

Harry rolled his eyes as Luna tittered at his antics. "Well, I would have; wouldn't I?"

During the lunch break, the girls sent out owls to Sirius, Remus, Matthias and Deece, and Ant and Cele letting them know of the award 'ceremony'.

Then, over the next few days, they co-ordinated with the families to get the Grangers in to witness the event; and planned Harry's outfit. They chose a crimson so dark as to almost appear black. With shirt to complement and match.

_‗_

—==(oIo)==—

ˇ

On the Saturday morning Harry was dressed in his dark crimson robes with black under robes and pale, almost pink, shirt underneath. He also wore a black cape to take care of the chill in the air.

The ladies were also dressed in high style. Both were wearing late fashion robes of, in Hermione's case, autumnal colours, while Daphne wore robes that gave the impression of sea foam. Both were also wearing jewellery Harry hadn't seen before.

When he pointed it out, Daphne told him it was on loan from the 'Greengrass collection'.

"During summer, we go down to the Potter heirlooms vault and see what's available to you," he told them while they waited.

They were just doing a last minute check of their appearance when the Headmaster walked up to them.

"Mister Potter... ladies," he said.

"Headmaster," replied Harry a little coldly. "Have you found out anything about the dream I've been having?"

"Errr... no, Mister Potter. I'm still investigating that," replied the old man. "I've come to ask you not to accept the Order of Merlin, this morning."

"Why ever not?" asked Harry.

"I-I'm sorry?" stuttered Dumbledore.

"I asked, 'why ever not?'" replied Harry.

"Oh," said the Headmaster. "Errr... I do not believe you are ready for the responsibilities such an award carries with it."

"Again, why ever not?" asked Harry.

"Pardon?" asked Dumbledore.

With a sigh, Harry asked, "Headmaster, is there something wrong with your hearing? I'm being very concise and clear in my diction; and I know I'm being loud enough for you to hear."

"No, Harry; I'm just surprised by the question," replied Dumbledore.

"I cannot fathom why, Headmaster," said Harry. "It is, after all, quite logical. Why do you believe I'm not ready for the responsibilities of accepting an Order of Merlin?"

"Oh, yes," said the Headmaster. "Because, I believe you to be too young, Mister Potter."

"You mean, just like I was too young, as an eleven year old, to kill my Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor, who was being possessed by the malevolent spirit of Tom Riddle?" asked Harry. "Do you mean, just like I was too young, as a twelve year old, to face a sixty-plus foot long, one thousand year old basilisk with nothing but my wits, your phoenix and the Sword of Godric Gryffindor?

"And yet, Headmaster, that's exactly what I did. I killed Slytherin's monster; a giant basilisk. In so doing I saved the life of an eleven year old girl and, quite probably, the lives of a great deal more. Also, in so doing I defeated Tom Riddle again, and in the process stopped him from being resurrected to again terrorise magical Britain.

"I'm not being awarded the Order because I did all that as an eleven year old and then as a twelve year old, I'm being awarded because I did that, irrespective of my age at the time. If I'm old enough to do that, I'm old enough to handle the responsibilities of a holder of the Order of Merlin.

"However, maybe it's not the responsibilities that concern you, Albus Dumbledore. Maybe it's that you cannot stand the idea that there's someone else in magical Britain who holds the Order of Merlin, First Class, besides yourself and Fudge!"

Harry didn't realise it, but as he berated the Headmaster his voice became louder and louder.

The strident voice of Professor McGonagall cut across the Hall as she stormed out of the Great Hall. "Mister Potter, calm yourself!"

Harry almost flinched from the voice and had to clamp down hard on his emotions. After a few moments, during which Professor McGonagall reached them, he turned to her and said, "My apologies, Professor. But, the Headmaster is... yet again... attempting to butt his way into my life!"

Turning to Dumbledore, she asked, "Is this true, Albus? After how much the senior staff told you to stop; you're, again, attempting to manipulate Mister Potter's life?"

"What I do..." began Dumbledore before the Professor verbally rode over the top of him.

"There is no such thing as your 'Greater Good', Albus," she shot back. "Stay out of Mister Potter's personal life, or I and the rest of the senior staff will go to the School Board!"

Dumbledore braced himself up, stared coldly at Harry for a moment, and said, "Very well." Before he then turned about and strode from the Hall with as much dignity as he could muster, just as Sirius came striding in through the main doors.

He took one look at the tableau before he asked, "What'd I miss?"

Rounding on Sirius, Harry almost snarled, "That antiquated, manipulative old fool..."

"Mister Potter!" barked Professor McGonagall.

Again, Harry clamped down on his emotions after almost flinching from the Professor's rebuke.

Sirius cut in and said, "Perhaps we should take this to Professor Flitwick's office. He's waiting for us to use his Floo connection to Floo to the Ministry of Magic atrium."

"Yes; thank you, Sirius," said the Professor. "I think that's a wise idea."

Harry just gave a firm sharp nod in response.

With his wives on either arm, Harry followed Sirius and Professor McGonagall up to Professor Flitwick's office.

_‗_

—==(oIo)==—

ˇ

Once in Flitwick's office the little Professor said, "I see from the face of Mister Potter there was at least a verbal altercation in the recent past. Who was it, this time?"

Professor McGonagall replied, "Albus has been attempting to stick his beak in Mister Potter's personal life, again."

"Oh," said the Charms Master. "From your comments I take it the Headmaster was slapped down for his efforts?"

"Quite resoundingly," smiled Professor McGonagall. "And loudly."

Harry sighed and said, "Again, Professor; my apologies."

"That's quite alright, Mister Potter," she gently said. "The entire staff is now fully aware of the manipulations of that old man."

Harry looked at her rather calculatingly but didn't respond, and she wouldn't elaborate. The Potters were unaware of the loyalty potions the staff had been dosed with; that had now been utterly flushed from their systems; and the staff had no intention of informing them.

"How much time do you have until you need to be at the Ministry?" asked Professor Flitwick.

"Almost twenty minutes," replied Sirius.

"Mmm," he acknowledged. "I'd offer you tea. However, you really don't want that, as you'll probably have to remain on stage for some time as the Minister speaks."

"Its okay, Professor," said Harry. "But, thank you for the offer."

"You need to learn to get better control of your anger, Mister Potter," he calmly said. "Anger can lead you to rash, ill-thought action."

"In almost all situations now, Professor, I'm able to keep my anger contained," replied Harry. "However, Albus Wulfric Dumbledore has a way of... riling me."

"That's Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, Mister Potter," corrected Professor McGonagall.

"No, Professor, it is not. At least, not really," said Hermione. "The Headmaster added those other two names to make himself look more important when he was younger."

That stunned everyone except the three bondmates.

"It's true," said Harry. "Notices of birth are public records. We wondered why the Headmaster had four given names and yet his brother and sister only had two each.

"Our Headmaster was born Albus Wulfric Dumbledore to Percival Wulfric Dumbledore and Kendra Briana Dumbledore on the 7th of July 1881. He changed his name when he left Britain to begin his apprenticeship with Nicholas Flamel in France at the turn of the century soon after his sister died. I think he was about nineteen then."

"That's... astounding," said the little Charms Master, as Professor McGonagall suddenly found herself needing to sit down in shock.

"His name's a lie?" Professor McGonagall nearly gasped.

"Unknown," Harry replied with a shrug. "He could have changed it through legal means while he was in France. I've not looked."

From where he was sitting, Sirius began to chuckle before he broke out into full laughter.

"Something funny, Sirius?" asked Professor Flitwick.

"It's never struck me that Dumbledore was so vain," he chuckled. "He added more given names to make himself seem more important? He's right. As kids that's exactly what we thought!"

"Well, he did it when he was nineteen," said Hermione. "Back then he'd not found the twelve uses of dragon's blood, apparently become the partner of Flamel, defeated Grindelwald and locked him up in Nurmengard, got himself elevated to the Wizengamot, or to the ICW."

"Sorry?" asked Professor Flitwick. "Nurmengard?"

"Hmm? Oh!" said Hermione. "When Dumbledore defeated Grindelwald in one-on-one combat, he then had him locked up in Nurmengard; the prison Grindelwald, himself, built for his enemies off the northern coast of Poland in the Baltic Sea. Engraved into the lintel above the main doors are four words: For the Greater Good."

"That's where Dumbledore got that saying from," added Harry. "It was Grindelwald's mantra when he and Dumbledore became very close friends in 1899. That's when Grindelwald was visiting his aunt, Bathilda Bagshot, in Godric's Hollow; and the two became romantically involved."

"We think that's why Dumbledore didn't go after Grindelwald until 1945," said Hermione. "He kept hoping his ex-boyfriend could be... redeemed; and would give up his world domination nonsense."

The three adults in the room sat stunned.

"Grindelwald's alive?" asked Professor McGonagall, still quite shocked.

"As far as we know, yes," replied Daphne. "Dumbledore's never claimed he killed him; only that he defeated him. He's never lied about that. However, he knows people think he killed him; he's just never corrected them of the assumption either way. You can confirm it for yourself by asking Dumbledore directly. I don't think he'd lie about it, even now, if asked directly.

"Most of this you can probably confirm by talking to Dumbledore's brother, Aberforth, the proprietor of the Hog's Head pub in Hogsmeade."

"But, anyway," said Harry, sitting up straighter in his chair, ready to stand up. "We need to think about making a move. The Minister wants to hang a pretty ribbon about my neck and, since Madam Longbottom and Sirius worked him over pretty hard to get it done, we'd best not keep the man waiting."

"Errr... yes," said Professor Flitwick, his mind clearly on other matters. "Floo powder's on the mantel."

_‗_

—==(oIo)==—

ˇ

As the four arrived via Floo in the atrium at the Ministry, Sirius helped Harry to his feet and used his wand to banish the soot off their robes. "Bloody Hell, you three!" he muttered to them. "Warn people, in future, when you're about to dump shocking information on them. I thought Minnie was going to have a heart attack!"

"All that information is public knowledge, Sirius," said Harry. "We just have smart people we could send to go looking for it. Lawyers and goblins really know their stuff."

As they talked, they were walking to the checkpoint. All four were looking around, looking for threats.

In front of the fountain that dominated the 'business' end of the atrium was a temporary dais with some seating on it. No one was on it, yet. The presentation was not for another thirty odd minutes.

"We go see Madam Bones, first," said Sirius. "She wants a quick word before she escorts us in to see the Minister."

The four made their way through the checkpoint, where their wands were 'weighed', before Sirius led them to the lifts.

They rode the lift to Level Two and quickly made their way to the office of the Head of the DMLE; where they were quickly ushered through by Madam Bones's personal secretary.

Walking in, Madam Bones was rising from behind her desk, walking around to greet her guests.

"Sirius," she smiled, offering her hand.

"Hello, Amelia," he replied back as she then offered her hand to each of the others.

"Mister Potter, Missus Greengrass-Potter, Missus Granger-Potter; welcome," she greeted them each in turn.

"Ma'am," all three responded, in turn.

"Please, take a seat," she said, gesturing to the four chairs she had before her desk.

Once all four had taken seat and she returned to sitting behind her desk, she smiled at them before looking at Harry with a bit of a curious expression on her face.

"I wonder if you could tell me, Mister Potter, how it is you came to the conclusion I had Death Eaters on my staff," she said.

"Logic," he smiled and shrugged back. "To me, once we reviewed all the informational evidence we'd gathered, it wasn't difficult to reach the conclusion that the Ministry is riddled with them - if you'll pardon the pun. And, if not actual marked Death Eaters, then sympathisers."

She looked back at him and his wives for a few minutes before she suddenly grunted and asked, "How's your Occlumency?"

"Very strong," said Harry. "For all three of us. It has something to do with the bonds."

"Of course; I remember." She gave another nod of acknowledgement before she said, "What I'm about to tell you is not for other ears."

When the four nodded back, she said, "My senior staff and I have carried out a sweep of the Ministry looking for such people. We found a few in my Department, as you anticipated. And we found quite a few more throughout the other Departments across the Ministry. There was barely a single office within the Ministry where we did not find a marked Death Eater, a witch or wizard who would not hesitate to become a Death Eater if given the opportunity, or a sympathiser; or any combination of the three.

"If anything, almost every office had multiple such people. And that included my own Department... and, apparently, the Department of Mysteries."

Sirius gave a low whistle.

"Why've we not read about this in the Prophet?" asked Daphne.

Madam Bones gave a little squirm in her seat and replied, "We've kept it under very tight wraps. With the exception of my senior staff, after each interview, the person was Obliviated of the knowledge they'd been questioned on the matter. A false memory was implanted to lead them to believe the DMLE was carrying out a very sensitive investigation into the theft of classified items from a sensitive location; and they were then forbidden from talking about it with anyone else."

"So, I take it, then," said Harry. "That the DEs and their ilk are still at their desks and their jobs? All you wanted to do was identify them, for now?"

"Uh-hmm," she replied. "Do you know why?"

"You know that if you pull them out, more will simply take their places," said Hermione. "By leaving them where they are, you know where they are, and can round them all up at a later date when you need to."

"Very good," congratulated Madam Bones. "That's exactly why we've done that."

She then said, "Now, perhaps you could care to explain why you believe I needed to do that work you strongly suggested I do... which I've done, by the way... by June?"

Harry was expecting the question so already had an answer prepared. "I don't consider myself a seer, or anything like that. However, I have... dreams. Dreams, that I remember when I wake up. These dreams pretty much always have to do with Riddle and his lickspittles.

"It's those dreams that lead me to believe that, whatever it is that's going to happen, it has something to do with conclusion of the Tournament. And there's only the third task left, on the 24th of June.

"I was entered into the Tri-Wizard Tournament by someone acting against my own desires. After so long without discovering the identity of that person I believe it's safe to say it wasn't a fan that was looking to do me a 'favour', or the like.

"Instead, I'm left with the belief it was someone intent on doing me harm. It also had to be someone who knew, in advance, how the competitors of the Tournament were going to be selected. That left someone with inside information from high up in the Department of International Magical Cooperation, the Department of Magical Games and Sports, or the Minister's Office being the person who supplied that information.

"With how much I know I am a person of interest for Riddle and his lickspittles, it is not difficult to reach the conclusion it was probably them. And, that means they're out to do me harm.

"Now, they wanted me in the Tournament. Which means, whatever it is they're planning on doing, is directly related to the three tasks. As we've now already completed two of the tasks, it means... whatever it is they're going to try to do... it'll be during the third task. Personally, I think it's going to be a kidnapping attempt.

"So, we know the Dark Mark is getting darker. We know the DEs believe this means Riddle's on his way back. We know that Riddle is currently, or recently was, only a spirit. We know that Riddle has twice already attempted to gain artefacts to enable him to be resurrected into physical form. We know that, whatever it is that's going to happen, it'll have something to do with the third task of the Tri-Wizard Tournament being held on Thursday, the 24th of June.

"Conclusion based on the known facts: It appears apparent that Riddle has a plan for his resurrection, and it somehow involves me. And that it'll likely occur on the 24th of June. We now know 'who' and 'why' and the likelihood of 'when' and 'what'; however, we don't know 'how' or 'where', if it's not in the middle of the maze."

Madam Bones sat back and was deeply in thought. Eventually she said, "And we can't stop the final task as it would mean the magic being stripped from the four competitors, you included."

"Exactly," replied Harry.

"Well, what I can do is force Dumbledore to allow me to station extra aurors throughout Hogwarts. Especially within, as you surmise, this maze you think will be part of the third task," she said.

"I cannot interfere with the task, itself; as that could also lead to the four of you having your magic stripped. However, I can ensure there are plenty of aurors watching things to make sure you're not kidnapped."

"That would be... comforting," said Harry. 'And perfect,' he thought.

That meant there'd be plenty of aurors around and within the maze who would quickly be able to send out the alert that he'd been kidnapped by the overlaid portkey on the Cup. It also meant there'd be quite a few on hand when he, as planned, used the portkey to return to the school.

With that many, it should mean Crouch Junior would not be immediately kissed... if they didn't 'out' him earlier, as planned... and there'd be plenty of DMLE witnesses there to ensure his message that Riddle was back would be properly heard. The ground work had been laid so well that the Minister could not now claim Harry was being a lying attention-seeking git. Magical Britain would know of Riddle's resurrection, immediately.

_‗_

—==(oIo)==—

ˇ

After a few more words, Madam Bones contacted the Minister to let him know they were on their way, and escorted the four up to the Minister's office on the next floor. She took them up by way of an internal flight of stairs installed for easy transit between the two floors.

Leading the way, she escorted them directly into the Minister's office. The man was clearly waiting for them as he was sitting perched on the edge of his desk in his finest. The Pink Toad was sitting on a chair off to the side, but close enough to being behind his desk as to show she was considered his 'Right-Hand Witch'.

Ignoring everyone else, Fudge made his way directly to Harry. "Ah! Mister Potter! Welcome, welcome. I trust you're in fine health?" he vigorously shook Harry's hand with a wide smile plastered on his face.

"Minister," replied Harry.

As the Minister released his hand, Harry indicated his wives. "Allow me to introduce my wives, Missus Hermione Granger-Potter and Missus Daphne Greengrass-Potter."

"Errr... w-wives?" stuttered the Minister, as he held his hand out towards Hermione.

"Yes, Sir," said Harry. "As you can no doubt deduce, we've finalised the bonds."

Quickly gathering his thoughts, Fudge took Hermione's hand in his own before lightly bending to brush his lips on the back of her knuckles. "Missus Granger-Potter," he muttered, before turning and doing the same for Daphne.

While Fudge was lightly kissing the back of Hermione's fingers, Harry watched as an expression of distaste flittered across the Pink Toad's face.

'You don't know this yet, bitch,' he thought. 'But your days on this earth are numbered.'

"And, of course," he said. "You know Sirius Black; my godfather. I believe you recently had quite the in-depth discussion."

Fudge blanched just a little before his smile was once more firmly affixed to his face as he turned to Sirius. "Mister Black," he said, as he shook Sirius's hand.

"Minister," acknowledged a grinning Sirius.

Fudge quickly turned to introduce Umbridge. "And, allow me to introduce Madam Dolores Umbridge; my Senior Undersecretary." As the woman came forward.

Before she reached them, Harry drolly said, "Ah, yes. The witch who couldn't control her outbursts and called me a liar at the hearing."

That stopped the woman in her tracks as she looked back in shock that morphed into ill-concealed anger.

Turning back to a surprised Fudge, Harry drawled, "I trust, Minister, you've educated your... underling... on how to comport herself in the Wizengamot in future?"

"Errr..." stuttered Fudge, before he decided on a quick change of subject. "I... trust you're ready for the presentation, this morning?"

"You're going to hang a medal around my neck," said Harry. "I didn't find it difficult to learn."

Fudge laughed with false cheer. "Oh, no; dear boy! There's more to it than that!"

As he guided them all to seats and headed to sit at his desk, he said, "There's a bit of ceremony that goes with the awarding of an Order of Merlin, dear boy. Allow me to step you through it."

Harry and his wives then had to put up with almost fifteen minutes of being told what they already knew. And, knowing if he hadn't been snarky, most of the talk would not have occurred.

_‗_

—==(oIo)==—

ˇ

Harry, Daphne, Hermione and Sirius were all sitting on the chairs on the stage to one side while the remaining living Order of Merlin Holders sat on the other. They were: Albus Dumbledore - Order of Merlin, First Class (of course); Newt Scamander - Order of Merlin, Second Class; and Orabella Nuttley - Order of Merlin, Second Class.

Harry was surprised to learn that Lockhart actually did hold an Order of Merlin, Third Class. However, the man was still happily signing photographs with a crayon and giving them to pot plants in the Janus Thickey Ward in Saint Mungo's. As such he was considered too ill to attend the event, that morning. A chair was located at the far end but left vacant for the man out of 'respect'.

There was another vacant chair on the inside end for Fudge - another Order of Merlin, First Class holder. Harry had no idea, though, how the man could have possibly earned such an award.

During their talk in his office, Fudge said, "Madam Umbridge, who'll be holding the little display box for the medal, will be sitting on the stage, with us. She'll come..."

"No," Harry flatly said.

"Errr... pardon, Mister Potter?" asked the Minister, his explanation suddenly derailed.

"I said, no," said Harry. "Madam Umbridge publicly insulted me only a few short months ago. While I think it somewhat justice for her to be forced to hold such an award for me. I do not want her anywhere near me.

"If you need someone to hold the award box while you draw the medal out to hang it around my neck, I'd rather someone of Madam Bones's calibre do it. Madam Bones is a Head of the DMLE; while Madam Umbridge is, after all, only a mere Undersecretary.

"Your underling, Madam Umbridge, may find herself unable to blurt out that she thinks me a liar, again. I'd hate to have to immediately demand satisfaction through an honour duel for her remarks. Especially during the presentation, itself."

As Fudge sat there and appeared unable to think how to proceed, Madam Bones calmly said, "I would be honoured to, Mister Potter."

"Errr... yes," said Fudge. "Of course, it's not a requirement for Madam Umbridge to be the one who holds the box; but, still, I've already informed Madam Umbridge..."

"Uninform her," said Harry. "The woman is, after all, sitting in the corner."

"Errr... yes," said the Minister as he clearly thought very hard about what to do. Eventually, he said, "Well, if you prefer Madam Bones to be the one to hold the award for you..."

"Minister!" exclaimed Umbridge, clearly upset and enraged.

"Enough, Dolores," he said. "If Mister Potter prefers Madam Bones, then it shall be Madam Bones. You did, after all, publicly insult Mister Potter only a few months ago."

The Pink Toad almost curled in on herself and quietly fumed.

"Now, then," said the Minister, continuing. "Madam Bones will also be sitting on the stage..."

That now led to Madam Bones wearing her 'parade' uniform and sitting in a chair between the groups of family and Order of Merlin recipients with the medal case sitting on her lap.

_‗_

—==(oIo)==—

ˇ

By the time the Minister finally hung the medal around his neck Harry felt he needed to run back to Hogwarts. Instead, he had to give a short speech where he thanked the Minister and the Wizengamot for the award.

During his speech he made sure to thank both Madam Longbottom and Sirius for 'shepherding' the award through the Minister's office before then thanking his bondmates and Sirius for having the patience to sit there while long speeches were given.

Then he quickly wrapped up and thanked the crowd for taking the time to come and witness the award.

He was ready to head back to Hogwarts when the Minister informed him he had to attend a Ministry reception for the award being held in the Ministry reception hall. He'd hoped to be able to avoid it by citing he was still a competitor in the Tri-Wizard Tournament and needed to focus his efforts on that.

Of course, the Minister was too slick a politician to allow him and his family to escape. Fudge practically latched onto him and dragged him to the reception hall, just to make sure he didn't try to flee.

Then, for the next hour, Harry was introduced to every Department Head and what he felt was every Office Head, plus many of their wives. He had to stand for photographs with the Minister, with the Minister and his wife, with the Minister and his wives, with the Minister and the three wives, with the other recipients, and he couldn't recall how many others.

The only photograph he flatly refused to participate in was one where he was expected to stand with Madam Umbridge. And he made sure Fudge was well aware he'd very publicly deny the photographic opportunity if it was attempted to be forced upon him.

After Fudge took the Pink Toad aside and told her, she stormed from the venue.

"Making friends, Pup?" asked his amused godfather.

"The woman is a menace," replied Harry. "She has single-handedly introduced laws that have gone a long way towards driving this society back to the fifteenth century. She's a flat-out unrepentant blood bigot and Riddle supporter, but too smart to allow herself to be 'Marked'.

"The only way she's managed to rise as far as she has within the Ministry is because she holds blackmail material over a wide range of people. She lacks talent but is as cunning as all Hell."

"Well, don't hold back on your opinion, Pup," smirked Sirius. "You're an awardee of the Order of Merlin, First Class, now. You're expected to be outspoken about matters."

Harry just grinned back at his godfather's attempts at lightening the mood and flipped him the bird.

_‗_

—==(oIo)==—

ˇ

Eventually, the three returned to the castle. Of course, they couldn't just walk back to their room. Now Harry had to show the medal to every one who wanted to see it. Whether that was because they wanted to see Harry wearing one, or because they'd simply not seen one before, was irrelevant. However, as soon as Harry stepped out of the Floo in Professor Flitwick's office, he pulled it off over his head and dropped it into the case Hermione was carrying. Of course, Hermione then went right ahead and laid it in the case properly.

By the time they did make it back to their apartment, they'd already missed lunch. The first thing the three did was strip out of their finest and throw on their 'weekend' robes. The Order of Merlin in its little case was left on their 'dresser'. At that time, Harry felt as if he could just dump it in a draw and never see the thing again. But, there was no way his wives were going to allow that to happen.

Dobby, bless his little elfish heart, anticipated their needs and had a light lunch laid out for them when they exited their bedroom. It even earned him a kiss on his cheek from Hermione when she spotted it.

The poor little fellow blushed to his toes and popped away, without a word.

As they sat down to eat, Harry sighed in relief.

"Feet or Fudge?" asked Daphne.

It took Harry a little while to parse that before he said, "Fudge, really. And all those boring bloody speeches. At least we were able to sit through it. Those Ministry workers and those from the public just coming to watch pretty much had to stand through it all.

"Language, Harry James," said Hermione, almost absentmindedly as she built herself a lunch.

"However, that's me," he said. "You ladies always seem to go for form over function when you wear shoes. How're your feet?"

"Fine," said Daphne as Hermione agreed. "Thankfully, we too sat through most of it."

"However, for your information," said Hermione, "Witches shoes are designed to both look good and be comfortable. Magic, don't you know." She smiled back.

"I just hope I never have to go through something like that again," Harry said with feeling.

"You will," said Daphne.

"What? Why?" he asked, whining a little.

"You'll need to go through it, as one of the ones sitting on the side with those who've already received the award, every time someone else gets presented with an Order of Merlin," explained Daphne. "Secondly, when you finally kill Riddle, I have no doubt you'll be the first person since... whenever... who'll be presented with a second Order of Merlin, First Class."

"I looked it up," said Hermione. "It's called a 'Bar'. You'll then hold the Order of Merlin, First Class, and Bar; designating the Order being awarded a second time."

'Trust Hermione to look something like that up,' thought Harry.

"As long as I don't get another hyphenated bl-ooming name," he grouched. "What is there now? The Boy-Who-Lived and the Slayer-of-The-Basilisk?"

"I think they've settled on 'The Slayer-of-Slytherin's-Monster'," said Daphne. "For the alliteration of it."

"That's even worse," he sighed.

"Suck it up, Harry," said Daphne a little firmly. "It's going to get far worse, yet. Think about what our angels told us. You, with us by your side, are going to drag our society up by the bootstraps into the 21st Century, let alone the 20th."

"You have two wives with knowledge and experience of both the magical and muggle worlds," continued Hermione. "Haven't you worked out, yet, there's a reason for that?"

"I thought it was because of how much Fate's using me as her personal punching bag," he softly complained.

Both of his ladies smiled back.

"No," disagreed Daphne. "It's because of how much work is ahead of us. Killing Riddle is only the first stage on a long road."

"I'm only interested in killing Riddle and getting that sociopath off my back," said Harry. "I've not even thought about what comes after that."

"Nor should you," agreed Daphne. "Let us worry about what comes next."

"And there will be a lot of 'nexts'," added Hermione.

_‗_

—==(oIo)==—

ˇ

Life at Hogwarts settled down again as the excitement of the approaching third task of the Tri-Wizard Tournament had people turning their attentions that way and away from the Order of Merlin.

The perpetrators of the 'Great Magazine Subscription Prank' were never caught. However, the prevailing belief was it was the Weasley twins who were responsible. Their outright denials and exclamations they always admitted to a prank when caught were only believed by some.

Eventually, they approached the three in their apartment.

"You did it, didn't you?" accused one.

"The only one who would specifically target Malfoy is..." said the other.

"... Harry James Potter," they said in stereo.

"Now, that's not fair!" retaliated Harry. "Just because Ferret Boy was the victim does not automatically make me the perpetrator."

"Then deny it," said one.

"We know you don't lie, Harry," said the other.

"Fine!" retorted Harry. "I did not come up with the prank that saw Malfoy be mail bombed by magazine subscriptions... There. Happy?"

The twins looked at each other for a moment before huddling their heads together and murmuring to one another. Harry just hoped they hadn't paid that much attention to exactly what he'd just said.

When they both looked back at Harry, one said, "But, you know who did!"

"Yes," he replied. "But, I'm not telling you who. You know what sort of a vindictive bastard Malfoy is. If he was to ever find out..."

Again, the twins huddled for a few seconds before they turned back. One said, "Then please inform the prankster we stand impressed!

"It was, as the Headmaster said, a well-executed prank," said the other.

"And we'd never tell."

Out of the corner of his eye, Harry saw his wives look at one another before they seemed to reach an agreement. Both then stood and turned to the twins before they curtsied and said, "Thank you."

Both twins goggled back before they then both grinned.

"Who'd have thought?" one said.

"The bookworm of Gryffindor..." said the other.

"And the Ice Princess of Slytherin..."

"Together, pranking the..."

"Amazing Bouncing Ferret!" they said in stereo. Then they both bowed back.

Both girls grinned.

"No wonder no one's been able to figure it out," said one.

"It boggles the mind!" said the other.

Harry sighed and said, "Take a seat, boys."

As both quickly scrambled to sit, almost eagerly, Harry said, "Now that you know. Please don't go spreading it around. As I said, Malfoy's such a vindictive bastard he'll come after them. And, he'll do it with the intention to physically hurt them; considering how much he was embarrassed by this.

"I know the Headmaster has put his foot down regarding bullying in the school; but, Malfoy's always had it in his head that both his godfather and father will protect his arse no matter how much he gets into trouble. He'll do something to hurt, if not... heaven forbid... kill, these two no matter what threats he receives of consequences for his actions."

"We will not divulge their identities," said one.

"You have our word," said the other.

"Good," said Harry. "Now, as payment for copping the fall, I give you the identities of your idols. The original Marauders, whom the two of you wish you were the equals of…"

Both boys eagerly leaned forward.

"… They were Sirius Black, also known as Padfoot; Remus Lupin, also known as Moony; James Potter, also known as Prongs; and the traitor, Peter Pettigrew, also known as Wormtail. There was also a fifth, secret, Marauder, Lily Evans, also known as Flower."

The two boys sat there, stunned.

"You alright, there, you two?" he asked.

"Professor Lupin was one of the original Marauders?" asked one.

"Yes," replied Harry. "Considered the brains the team, until my mother joined them in their seventh year."

"And Pettigrew, the traitor of Gryffindor, was another?" asked the other.

"Yes," he replied, again. "However, never bring his name up when talking to either Padfoot or Moony. It makes them really angry."

"So, the Marauders were..."

"Your father..."

"Your godfather..."

"Your honourary uncle..."

"And the traitor."

"With, the previous 'brightest witch of her age'..."

"Your mother..."

"A secret fifth Marauder."

"Yes," replied Harry. "And all of them, except the rat, kept their school marks in the top twenty percentile for their year group. Moony went on to become a Prefect. And, my Mum and Dad went on to become Head Boy and Girl."

"That's why we also happen to know you two," said Daphne, indicating the two of them, "Are deliberately fudging your marks in classes and exams. You can't be as good as you are at your pranks and still have low to average marks."

"Yeah, you said that before," said one, sadly.

"Back when Ginny and Ronnikins... you know," said the other, just as sadly.

"But we didn't understand how you knew."

"Now, we know."

_‗_

—==(oIo)==—

ˇ

For the first time in both timelines, Harry headed back to London on the Express on Sunday, eleventh of April, for the two week Easter break. Of course, he was accompanied by his wives. The three of them shared a compartment and were soon joined by Horace, Blaise, Tracey, and Neville. It was a full compartment of seven.

They were happily chatting away when Malfoy, minus his bookends, turned up. The blonde-haired boy opened the door, took one look at whom else was in the compartment, and left again. He never uttered a word.

"Well, that's a first," said Harry.

"What; Malfoy coming to pay you a visit?" asked Urquhart.

"No," replied Harry. "That he came to pay me a visit, without his bookends in tow, and then didn't even utter a single word, let alone a scathing insult."

"You sound disappointed," smirked Blaise.

"Well, yeah; I was," he replied. "I was even going to call him 'Teddybear' and everything. I even had a bit of a mental list of snide remarks concerning male homosexuals I wanted to use."

"Harry, you're not homophobic, are you?" asked Hermione.

"No, of course not," he scoffed. "I just wanted to rile him up."

"Well it would be tacky," she grumped.

"Anyway," he said looking at Blaise and wanting to change the subject. "How goes life in the Snake Pit?"

"Well, as you probably gathered, Malfoy's no longer the self-anointed Prince of Slytherin he believes he is," said Tracey.

Blaise, as with Horace, seemed reluctant to comment, but eventually said, "Outside of the Pit we have to present a united front. I'm sure Daphne's told you that."

Harry nodded back.

"However, inside the Pit, life's become pretty... difficult... for the little ponce," he said. "Even his supposed girlfriend is wary of being seen with him."

"I noticed his bookends are no longer seen shadowing him," said Harry. "I had no idea Pansy's also shying away from his company."

"Yeah, Malfoy's on the outs within Slytherin," said Tracey. "If it wasn't for Professor Snape stepping in pretty quickly, I daresay he'd have spent a great deal of time, these past couple of weeks, within the infirmary."

_‗_

—==(oIo)==—

ˇ

When the train arrived at Kings Cross the three, as expected and planned, were greeted by the Greengrasses.

They, with Astoria joining them, were quickly led down to the portkey point and portkeyed direct into the entrance foyer of the main house of Greengrass Farm; whereupon Harry immediately fell forward onto his face on the polished floor.

With the light laughter of both his wives and Astoria ringing in his ears, he climbed to his feet. "That's it," he muttered. "As soon as I find out who invented the portkey I'm going to challenge him to a duel."

"That's going to be a little difficult, Harry," grinned Matthias, who had helped him to his feet. "He died over one hundred years ago."

"Who died?" asked Sirius, as he walked in from the informal part of the house.

"Rupert Portman," replied Matthias. "The wizard who invented the portkey. Harry wanted to challenge him to a duel for not making the portkey better."

"Well, your great-something-aunt Mabel would've been unhappy to hear you wanted to challenge him to a duel, Harry," said Sirius. "He was her brother."

"Your problem, Harry, is you've got to remember to hit the ground as if you're running forward," said Matthias. "What you're doing is akin to running forward, and then suddenly jamming your feet together and jabbing straight down with them. Of course you're going to sprawl forward."

Muttering under his breath about wizard travel hating him, Harry just nodded back. At least he was now able to travel via Floo without being sent skidding across the floor once he reached his destination - mostly.

"Could it be something like the effect you have on the Floo system, Harry?" asked Hermione. "You spin faster than everyone else?"

With the help of the Floos in both Professor Flitwick's and Professor McGonagall's offices, and practicing going from one to the other, Harry had finally learned the 'knack' before he had to turn up in the atrium the day of the presentation. Part of the problem was Harry had timing difficulties when it came to sticking his foot out forward and off to the side a little. However, with Professor Flitwick joining him in the Floo, the Professor immediately said that Harry actually spun quite a bit faster than normal as he travelled through it. And, secondly, he didn't seem to slow down all that much as he hit the grate of the arrival point. So, according to the little Charms Master, it was no wonder Harry tended to shoot out on his side and skid across the floor. Harry's timing had to be that much sharper than everyone else's, to pull it off. And he had to practically stick his foot right out to arrest his forward momentum he carried through from the Floo.

"No," said Daphne. "When we travel by portkey we all spin and travel the same. Harry just needs to get used to it."

"Can we help him out by setting up something similar to the constant jumps between Professors Flitwick's and McGonagall's offices?"

"Like what?" asked Matthias.

Hermione and Daphne, between them, explained the concept of repeatedly travelling from one Floo to the other and back again to give Harry time to work out his timing in reaching a destination and stepping out to counteract both the speed and spin of the Floo system.

"It could work," mused Matthias. "But, we'll need two multiple use short hop portkeys..."

"... Going from one point to another and back again; over and over," continued Sirius.

"I'm going to end up getting sick again," moaned Harry.

"Something to worry about later," said Deece. "For now, you three know where your rooms are."

_‗_

—==(oIo)==—

ˇ

After going to their rooms, and already finding everything unpacked and ready for them, the three quickly cleaned up from the train journey and portkey before returning downstairs. The others, as expected, were all in the parlour.

"Good," said Deece, taking a long look over the three of them - Astoria returned before them. "Much better."

"So, what're the plans for the break?" asked Daphne.

"The three of you are taking a look at the new emergency escape system here, in the Granger house, and at the Black House," replied Deece. "To facilitate that, you're spending a couple of days here, a couple of days at the Black House, Easter at the Granger's house... apparently muggles make that a four day long weekend break... then the last four days you can be wherever you want to be."

"Sounds good," said Harry.

"For right now, though, it's time for dinner," said Deece, rising.

_‗_

—==(oIo)==—

ˇ