"Mr. Riddle, once again, thank you for your courage and fearlessness. The children of Hogwarts are the future of the magical world. If a mass casualty event had occurred, the consequences would have been unimaginable."
Fudge snapped dozens of photos, taking so many that both Tom and Dumbledore grew impatient. Finally satisfied, Fudge, in full display-mode, clasped Tom's hand and showered him with flowery, grandiose words.
Tom wanted to use Fudge for his own purposes but had no desire to be tortured in the process. He quickly shot a glance at Bones.
Last night, Mrs. Greengrass should have already signaled Bones, or she wouldn't have come all this way today.
Sure enough, facing the hint from a major backer, Bones restrained her smile and spoke.
"Minister Fudge, I feel verbal thanks alone aren't sufficient. If the media interprets it as the Ministry being indifferent to students, that would be bad."
Fudge, completely lacking independent thought, immediately changed his expression and hurriedly asked, "Bones, you are absolutely right. How do you suggest we resolve this?"
"Show the Ministry's respect, especially by formally honoring Mr. Riddle," Bones said seriously. "I suggest the Ministry apply for a First-Class Order of Merlin on his behalf."
"First-Class Order?" Umbridge almost screamed, but Fudge reacted even faster than her.
"Isn't… isn't that too much? Of course, Mr. Riddle, I do not deny your contribution." Fudge first reassured Tom, then leaned toward Bones and whispered, "A First-Class Order for a child? Amelia, are you mad, or are my ears deceiving me?"
Above all, Fudge was personally uncomfortable. He had been a diligent Minister of Magic for years and hadn't yet received a First-Class Order himself.
Bones remained calm, a picture of procedural authority. "Age has never been a criterion for the Order. Only the magnitude of one's contribution counts.
"Tilly Toke saved a village and received a First-Class Order. Peter Pettigrew delayed Black and saved a street, he received a First-Class Order."
At the mention of Peter Pettigrew, Tom's eyebrows lifted slightly. Suddenly he remembered Ginny had promised to take care of the Marauder's Map, yet no word had come in all this time. Could she be slacking off?
Dumbledore, for his part, looked somber. He could only wonder whether, knowing the full truth later, he would feel embarrassed by today's reactions.
"This… you make a compelling point," Fudge said awkwardly, unsure how to respond. "But a First-Class Order of Merlin is significant. It's not a decision I can make alone."
"Which is why I said only to submit the application," Bones replied calmly. "It shows the Ministry's position. Whether it's approved is for the judging committee to decide."
Fudge's expression relaxed slightly.
Bones secretly glanced at Tom. Seeing no displeasure on his face, she let out a quiet sigh of relief.
Tom had long been mentally prepared for limited help from Bones. She, like Fudge or Barty Crouch, was fundamentally a politician, exchanging favors was normal.
But Amelia Bones differed from the others in that her moral baseline was exceptionally high. She would help within the rules, without unscrupulous measures for personal gain. Such a person might not make the best friend, but as a partner or ally, she was reliably fair in any deal.
"Very well," Fudge said, convinced. "I will submit the application to the committee. Personally, I hope you receive the Order, Mr. Riddle, but I cannot make any guarantees."
Tom responded with polite humility and, as Fudge turned to leave, stopped him.
"Minister, I'd like to offer a suggestion."
"Oh? Please go ahead," Fudge replied, smiling despite his inner irritation.
Tom glanced at Umbridge. "Minister, you represent the Ministry. Your secretary represents your image. By extension, your secretary also reflects the Ministry.
"I suggest appointing a more competent and presentable witch as secretary," Tom continued, eyes on the now-flushed Umbridge. "Especially when meeting officials from other countries, don't make them think the British magical world is full of… this."
"I am not a secretary!" Umbridge snapped, unable to maintain her girlish voice. "I am the Senior Assistant to the Minister of Magic! A high-level administrator of the Ministry!"
Tom looked to Bones, puzzled. "Ms. Bones, does the Ministry even have this position?"
Bones replied carefully, adhering to regulations. "Legally, Senior Assistant is not an official Ministry title. Ms. Umbridge's role should be considered as the Minister's Office Director and private assistant."
"Oh, so she's a director," Tom said, suddenly understanding.
One of the Aurors who had been taking photos quietly added, "She's the only one in the whole office, isn't she really a director?"
The comment made the Aurors burst into laughter. Umbridge's eyes darkened; she nearly fainted from embarrassment.
Tom looked oddly at the Auror. John Dawlish, Fudge's loyal underling, the perfect "pig teammate" in Tom's mind.
Having such a subordinate was Fudge's fortune. In the original timeline, Dawlish accomplished nothing and ended up hospitalized by Mrs. Longbottom, yet somehow survived to the end.
Fudge looked at Umbridge, as revolting as a pink toad, and could not help but nod slightly. From Tom's perspective, Umbridge's sycophancy was disgusting… yet so effective it was almost irresistible.