Revenge is Sweet

Chapter Seven

The Hand of Fate

In April, all at once, things started happening. The Department of Magical Law Enforcement finally got around to interviewing us about the battle as we'd seen it. Also, they asked about the things we'd done during our days in the Order. They used Veritaserum; I was petrified, but they assured me it wouldn't do any harm to the baby

A week or two after that, there was a grand ceremony honoring the members of the Order of the Phoenix. The Ministry unveiled the memorial to those who had fallen during the war. And then, to my surprise, they began handing out honors.

Ceremonial thanks were given to Dumbledore (who already held the Order of Merlin, first class, and couldn't be offered anything better). The Order of Merlin, first class, was awarded to Harry Potter, Severus Snape, and Arthur Weasley.

Then the Order of Merlin second class...Hermione Granger, Draco Malfoy, and Ron Weasley (I applauded and cheered as vigorously as possible)...Minerva McGonagall, Rubeus Hagrid...I couldn't believe how many names they were calling. Not that those people didn't all deserve the award, mind, it just seemed like a crowd was gathering on the stand. And then I heard it: "Millicent Bulstrode Weasley". My name. They wanted me to get up there and accept an award and shake Fudge's hand and all that.

I walked dazedly up to the dais and received the medal and the large envelope which I assumed contained a certificate. My pregnancy hormones must have been running rampant, because I couldn't stop crying. Of course, Dad wasn't pregnant and he sure seemed to be wiping his eyes a lot.

Afterwards we went home and Dad told me to open the envelope.

"It's a certificate, right?" I asked as I tried to gently pry open the flap. (Next to me, my husband was busy ripping his envelope open with abandon.)

"I think they usually put something else in there," he said mildly.

I think Ron and I stopped breathing at the same time. The certificate was beautiful and glorious and magical and all that, but underneath it was...a cheque. And not a piddly one, either. One hundred thousand galleons, they gave us. One hundred thousand galleons each.

Ron and Dad and I had our own private victory party that night. Dad retired to his room at a fairly reasonable hour, leaving me and my husband alone for our own personal celebration.

I remember what happened that night. Don't ask me to tell you though.

Of course, Dad knew that we were going to be moving soon. The cottage was already a little small for three adults, and adding a baby wouldn't make it any larger. Now that we had funds, we were in the market for a house.

I didn't want to move too far, and Ron was happy to oblige me. In fact, we already knew which house we wanted to buy.

It was a Muggle house--old, empty, derelict, but with the promise of great splendor. An old Victorian-era house, fairly large, though not large enough to be called a mansion. The grounds were sizable.

We'd walked by it often; it was just off the road into Banbury. We'd talked about it wistfully, eyeing the "For Sale" sign and wishing we had enough money. Now we did.

Two hundred thousand Galleons was over a million Muggle pounds--more than enough to buy the place outright, even after the goblins' outrageous exchange fees.

The house would need some fixing, but hey, that's what magic is for, isn't it?

I thought life couldn't be any more wonderful. I was wrong.

At the end of May, people decided that they wanted Dumbledore to be Minister of Magic. They ousted Fudge from office. Of course Dumbledore has always hated politics; he wouldn't have anything to do with the job. They tried to recruit Harry, but he wanted to get out of the spotlight; they tried Severus Snape, but he hated anything to do with public life. So they elected Arthur Weasley. My father-in-law.

Of course, this meant that Ron's whole family suddenly gained a certain amount of prestige. It had considerable effect on my husband, in particular, though. You see, he had been his father's assistant. When his father left the department, he suddenly found himself promoted to the Head of the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office.

Now all we needed for a perfect life was a baby.