A Veritable Font of Underpants

One: Aftermath of the Battle

Harry Potter had Portkeyed out of the Ministry atrium seconds before, and all present stood in stunned silence for a full ten seconds before anyone moved.

Suddenly, everyone burst into motion -- The Aurors were sent to investigate the Department of Mysteries, and several other members of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement began checking the scene of the battle in the atrium. Dumbledore and Fudge headed to the Minister's office, Fudge still looking as though he'd been clubbed upside the head by a particularly vicious troll; Dumbledore, weary and exhausted, checked his watch as they headed down the hall.

On Level Nine, the Hogwarts students were rounded up and sent back to school. Neville Longbottom's face was covered in dried blood, and he looked shaken, but he helped Ginny to step-hop-step-hop to where the others were gathered. Luna was awake but looked vacant and dazed; the mediwizards who had arrived moments before were ready to transport her to St. Mungo's for treatment, but Neville and Ginny pulled them aside to quietly assure them that really, she wasn't Confounded.

Hermione lay propped against Ron's side. She was very still, but her breathing was steady. Ron, on the other hand, looked as though he was about as off-balance as possible. The Trains of Thought that had constricted him earlier had been broken. An Unspeakable surveyed the damage and ruefully remarked that the research of years had been derailed; once that information had been lost, it was gone forever. Ron's arms were a lacerated mess, but he didn't seem to be in much pain. In fact, he looked as though something about the situation was greatly amusing.

"Her-my-nee," he slurred, poking her in the arm. "Wake up, I gotta tell you somethin', it's reeeally funny."

"Don't touch her!" snapped a mediwizard. "We're Portkeying you back to Hogwarts in just a moment. Grab her hand, will you? Help her hold on to this. You have to touch it, too, lad." The mediwizard had given Neville what appeared to have once been a replica of a planet, but was now cracked cleanly in half.

"Oh, look," Luna said dreamily, "That must be what's left of Uranus."

Ron let out a scream of laughter. Ginny figured she'd poke a bit of fun at her brother while he was still out of it; even though her ankle was killing her, she couldn't resist.

"Y'know, Ron," she gasped, holding tight to Neville's arm and reaching forward to put a finger on the broken planet, "you're holding Hermione's hand."

"Wellll, would you look at that?" Ron slurred. He stared at their intertwined fingers for a moment, then patted Hermione on the head. "Hey, Her-my-neeee, didja know I fancy you something wicked?"

"Quit that, for Merlin's sake!" the mediwizard barked. "You're going in three...two..."

The Portkey activated, sending the Hogwarts students directly to the hospital wing, amidst Ron's squeals of, "Wheeeeeee!"

Two: In the Hospital Wing

They arrived in an instant, and Madam Pomfrey set forth to heal her students.

"I cannot believe the things you get up to," the Healer said through clenched teeth. "And now you're bringing others with you on your crazy stunts..."

She'd healed Ginny's ankle and Neville's nose within moments, pronounced Luna "just as fit to leave as she'll ever be", and enlisted the others' help in getting Ron and Hermione settled.

Neville was given the task of getting Ron into his hospital pajamas. "Neville," Ron hissed as his dormmate buttoned his pajama shirt. "Neville, I gotta tell you something really funny."

"O-kay," Neville said slowly.

"Gotta be careful with my trousers," Ron answered, then burst into a fit of manic laughter.

"Your trousers," repeated Neville, wide-eyed.

"Yeah." Ron nodded enthusiastically, so much so that his head looked as though it may detach and go bouncing along the room.

Madam Pomfrey peered around the curtain. "Has he been like this all evening?" she asked, staring incredulously at Ron's bobbing head.

Luna's voice filtered through the sheet. "The Death Eaters hit him with something that made him go all funny."

"Hmm," the matron murmured thoughtfully. "Well, get him situated and we'll take a closer look."

She retreated, and Neville started to help Ron out of his trousers and into his pajama bottoms. Immediately, Neville, who could ordinarily be described as the most mild-mannered of boys, let forth a mighty shout.

"BLOODY HELL!" Neville yelled. "Ron, where in sweet Merlin's name are your underpants?"

Ron howled with laughter. "Dunno, mate! Last thing I remember about my pants was some big bloke who smelled like good ol' Uncle Bilius used to cursed me with something that starts with a 'T', I think."

In the next bed, as she tended to Hermione, Madam Pomfrey thought long and hard. Hmm. Drunken Death Eater, curse beginning with 'T', missing pants...Oh, yes, I do understand now. Must've been that old souse Avery and his idiotic transpanteo hex. I still remember him from his school days, saying something about learning from a Prince, of all things. A Prince! In the Wizarding world! Stupid, delusional boy...Was probably taking nips of Ogden's Old before breakfast, even then.

Neville staggered out from behind the partition, looking as though he would never be the same again. "Done," he muttered, scuffing his toe against the floor.

"You are a dear boy," Madam Pomfrey said, patting Neville's cheek. "Thank you so much for your help. You and Ginny can walk Luna back to her dormitory now, and head to Gryffindor Tower from there. I daresay you all need some sleep after this evening's events."

The three walking wounded headed out of the hospital wing, all looking exhausted, and Neville still grimacing and shaking his head.

Three: Throughout the Ministry

Dumbledore consulted his watch again, and hastily concluded his meeting with the Minister, speaking forcefully over Fudge's continued efforts to garner a complete explaination for the night's events.

"I have an urgent appointment, Fudge. Again, if you have need of my assistance, an owl addressed to the Headmaster will find me. Good evening." He strode across the room to the fireplace, helped himself to some of the Ministry supply of Floo Powder, and vanished in a whirl of robes and green flame.

Fudge slumped against his desk and sighed. This was surely the end of his career. He gritted his teeth and walked, slowly and with great trepidation, across the office.

Just before he reached the door, he noticed something. There was something draped over the head of the bust of Merlin.

A pair of clean but obviously well-worn underpants.

Fudge picked up the pants in his fingertips and stared. Sewn into the waistband was a nametag: WEASLEY.

He stormed from the office, pants still in his clenched fist. Just outside the door, Percy Weasley hovered, looking anxious.

"Minister?" Percy asked, wringing his hands. "In what way can I be of assistance? Perhaps I could I get you a cup of tea?"

Fudge wheeled on his erstwhile Junior Secretary. "You can be of assistance to me, Weasley, by not using my office for your romantic assignations!" he shrieked, throwing the pants at Percy.

Percy was still holding the underpants in limp fingers, mouth agape, as a furious Fudge stomped down the hall to face the reporters.

Auror Williamson's night had started out in candlelit perfection. It had gotten better as it wore on.

And then it turned bad. And it was still getting worse.

He'd been interrupted at home at an ungods-ly hour by Fudge's head showing up in his fireplace, shouting about statues in his bedroom, which were insistent that he accompany him to the Ministry immediately, and he simply MUST COME AT ONCE! Never mind that Williamson had been a bit...[I]busy[/I] at the time. It'd been his third date with Aileen, and things were going accordingly to plan. That is, until that stupid prat had had the utter gall to interrupt them.

His ponytail still mussed, scarlet robes hastily thrown on and askew, Williamson had done his best to assist in rounding up the Death Eaters for transport to Azkaban, but had been called back up to the Atrium for the investigation there.

Glad I spent three years in Auror Training for THIS, he thought bitterly, collecting the change from the Fountain of Magical Bretheren and stuffing it into a dragonhide banking bag. If this is what I'm doing with my education, I could've been a conductor on the Knight Bus, taking fares. It would've saved me the Gringotts loan for Ministry tuition, at least.

He fished out innumerable Knuts, a few silver Sickles, and -- what the...?!? -- more than a dozen Galleons in one wet handful, as though some crazy sod had dumped the contents of an entire money bag in one go. A fit of largesse in today's world? Well.

He thrust his hand back into the fountain, and felt something soft wrap itself around his fingers. He automatically grabbed the piece of cloth and held it up to his eyes.

"EURGH!" he moaned, slopping the wet fabric onto the side of the pool. He stared. Well, now, these were interesting underpants, at least.

The seat of the pants appeared to have been pre-printed. They were obviously of Muggle manufacture, with screen-printed letters straight across which read:

STOP LOOKING AT MY BUM

Williamson gave a snort of laughter. This looks like the sort of crazy things Auror Tonks would wear, he thought. Then, he noticed something more.

In laundry marker, just underneath the original message, someone had added:

IF YOU WANT TO SEE MY PANTS, REMUS, ALL YOU HAVE TO DO IS ASK

And underneath that -- in tiny letters:

(you daft prat)

Williamson was howling with laughter. Maybe he would take these to show to Auror Tonks. She'd get a kick out of this. He slipped the underpants into an evidence bag just as a ragtag crew splashed past his post. They looked very much the worse for wear, especially the tall one with greying hair and ratty robes, who looked as though he'd just lost his best friend.

As they Disapparated, Williamson tucked the bag into his robes and chuckled to himself. Shame nobody's been wearing pants like this for that sad bloke, he thought. He looked as though he could use a bit of cheering-up.

Four: In the Spell Damage Ward at St. Mungo's

Early the next afternoon, a few Order members dropped by St. Mungo's to visit Tonks, who was awake, but very sore.

"Wotcher, boys," she said weakly as Kinglsey, Remus and Mad-Eye entered the sunlit room.

"Hello, Nymphadora," Remus said with a wan smile, proffering a bouquet of roses in every possible color. "We need a bit of color in here, don't you think?"

"They're beautiful," she breathed, happiness alighting across her tired face as Mad-Eye conjured a vase ("Unbreakable, you know -- You can never have enough CONSTANT VIGILANCE, what with your clumsiness, young lady").

They spent a while sadly discussing the events of the past night. The others had witnessed her cousin's death, and they filled her in on the later details of the battle, and its aftermath.

"Dumbledore says that Potter feels to blame. He wouldn't fill us in on all of what went on, but we went up to the school for a meeting this morning, and it looks as though the boy was in a right state," Mad-Eye said gruffly.

"Poor Harry," Tonks said softly, her eyes filling with tears. "He's such a good and brave boy, but he takes too much on himself."

All four fighters sat in a moment of downtrodden silence.

"Well, not to make light of what is indeed a sad situation," Kingsley said, "Auror Williamson sends his regards, and hopes you're back at work soon. I guess there's something he insists you see for yourself."

Tonks looked up from her folded hands, intrigued. "Really? What's that?"

Kingsley looked as though he was trying to keep a straight face. "Williamson had the job of clearing out the fountain -- it's wrecked for good, you know -- and apparently he found a very intriguing pair of underpants."

"Underpants? In the fountain? Merlin above, kids these days..." Mad-Eye trailed off, muttering to himself.

Tonks felt a chill at the base of her spine. "Underpants."

"Yes," Kingsley continued, his mouth twitching. "Writing all over 'em."

A horrible suspicion crept across Tonks's mind. What was I wearing yesterday? she wondered. She went through the day in her mind. Okay...Was my wearing black shirt and that cute little purple miniskirt...Did a shift at work, went to Grimmauld Place, spent the evening in the library with Sirius and Remus...Alphabetizing the books...OH...BLOODY HELL.....Climbing the ladder...

She had a sudden recollection of her very, very naughty mood the morning before, as well as her (late and lamented) pervert-of-a-cousin's screams of laughter when he'd passed underneath the ladder.

"Umm. Rem -- NO -- Kingsley. Grab that bag of stuff there, by the side of the bed, would you?"

Kingsley bit his lip and handed the bag of personal effects to Tonks. "Everything you came in with last night, right here," he said, a shade too brightly, with a wink.

Tonks closed her eyes and sent up a silent prayer, then ripped open the bag and rooted thorugh its contents. She tore through the bag three times before she conceded defeat. "Oh, no. Oh, sweet Merlin and Muggle Christ, noooo..." she moaned.

Remus was watching with his brows furrowed. "What's wrong?"

"Oh...No...NO. No, no, no, no," she was groaning, thumping her head back against the headboard.

"Hey, now," Remus said, "Careful."

"You know what'd cheer you up? A good pair of funny pants. Tonks, why don't I see if I can liberate 'em from evidence and bring them down? It'll only take a mo'. Remus, it'd cheer you up, too." Kingsley was snickering now, the sadistic bastard, thought Tonks.

"NO!" Tonks screamed.

A Healer came bustling into the ward. "If you insist upon upsetting my patient, I'll have to ask you gentlemen to leave," she said in a tone that allowed for no argument.

Tonks screwed her eyes shut. "Yes. Go, guys. Just GO. I think I'm really...tired. Thank you for coming by, much appreciated and all, caio, cheerio, goodbye, get out."

The men raised eyebrows at each other at the abruptness of her dismissal, but bid their goodbyes and best wishes before hastily preparing to leave.

"Oh -- Kingsley?" she called, just before he reached the door. Kingsley turned back around.

"Don't make me come over for dinner and set the table with your wife's good china," Tonks said menacingly.

Kingsley winked. "Don't worry. Everything's safe with me."

Tonks mimed dropping a pile of plates, and Kingsley cringed, then turned on his heel and went to join Remus and Mad-Eye in the hall.

"Everything okay with you and the lass?" Mad-Eye asked as they strolled down the London streets.

Kingsley burst into laughter. "Yes. It's all fine."

Remus glanced at his companions, puzzled. "What was that all about, exactly?" he queried.

Mad-Eye's magical and normal eye rolled in perfect tandem, as Kingsley clapped Remus on the shoulder and said, "Honestly, mate, if you have to ask, I don't know what to tell you."