A Son-in-Law Is Half a Son

Tom asked earnestly, "Auntie, if I want to buy a Order of Merlin, First Class, approximately how many Galleon would it cost?"

Mrs. Greengrass was stunned for several seconds before she realized what Tom had asked, and her lips twitched.

"Are you going to donate money to buy the Order of Merlin? And a First Class one at that?"

Tom's face flushed slightly, a wave of shame washing over him, but he still forced a nod. "Because of something, this medal is very important to me."

There's no way around it; that's the downside of never having been a nobleman or a high-ranking official—you still care about saving face.

Unlike those shameless people who buy medals and official positions like they're buying candy, without feeling the slightest bit ashamed.

Look at Mrs. Greengrass, she didn't find this absurd at all, she was just curious why Tom suddenly took a liking to this thing.

She pondered the Pure-blood history she knew, and slowly began to speak:

"The Order of Merlin, First Class, can indeed be bought. I remember the last person to do that was Arcturus Black."

"He's the cousin of Phineas, the former headmaster of Hogwarts."

"Officially, it's said that he did a great service to the Ministry of Magic, but frankly, he just donated a large sum of gold to pave the way."

"But you're different from him."

Mrs. Greengrass looked at Tom's dazzlingly handsome face, feeling both angry and amused.

"Arcturus is from the Black Family, a top-tier Pure-blood, both in the Pure-blood circle and the Ministry of Magic."

"Their connections are incredibly strong; nobody dares to gossip about them donating money to receive medals."

"But you're too young; you don't even have a foothold in the Wizarding World."

"Don't even mention offering the same amount of money; even if you offered double or triple it, the Ministry of Magic wouldn't dare award it to you."

"Otherwise, the medals would be awarded and Fudge and Albus Dumbledore would be forced to resign the very next day."

Tom knew that the nomination required approval from both the Minister for Magic and the Wizengamot Order of Merlin, First Class.

Wizengamot is like the Upper House for Muggle, Albus Dumbledore is the Archmage, essentially the Speaker, wielding considerable influence.

"So, what do you think is the fastest way for me to get the First Class Medal?" Tom asked humbly, lowering his stance.

"Does it have to be Level One?" Mrs. Greengrass asked tentatively.

"If it's level three or two, your Anti-Disarm Bracelet can significantly improve Auror's safety. With some effort from me, there's still a chance."

"But there's a world of difference between First and Second Class medals. Except for those with truly extraordinary achievements, the Ministry of Magic is extremely stingy with First Class medals."

At this point, a hint of sarcasm crept into her tone. "You don't know, it's become an unwritten rule that the Minister for Magic awards himself a medal before retiring."

"Of the previous ones, only one awarded himself Level Two; the rest were all Level One."

"Fudge will do the same in the Fudge, he'll definitely get one for himself, but once Voldemort is exposed, the medal will probably be taken back, it'll be a complete waste."

"No, Auntie, it has to be Level 1. Level 2 and 3 are useless to me." Tom's tone was firm, and he wouldn't budge an inch.

Seeing his seriousness, Mrs. Greengrass understood the importance of the matter and softened her tone to persuade him.

"Nomination is possible, but a vote is needed to approve it; it takes time and effort. It's not something that can be done in a day or two."

How long will it take?

"At the fastest, six months."

"Thank you very much, Auntie." Tom knew this was the safest way, and his mindset instantly calmed down.

Six months from now is next February, which will be the start of the next semester.

The fifth trial has no time limit, but the sixth trial will begin in six months.

If you can obtain the medal before the sixth trial begins, you can complete both trials simultaneously.

"Six months is possible. How does it work?"

Mrs. Greengrass put down her teacup and held up three fingers.

"First, you need an achievement of sufficient weight to convince those old fogies that you deserve this medal. Your thesis and the Silver Cauldron Medal are not enough."

"Secondly, you need connections. Most of the members of the Wiesemmog are patriarchs of Pure-blood families or retired high-ranking officials. They don't look at ability, they look at relationships."

Mrs. Greengrass paused for a moment, then said, "I can help you with that part."

"Third, you need money, not bribes, but donations. The Ministry of Magic has a budget shortfall every year, and whoever donates the most has the biggest voice."

Tom thought of the Black Family. "Donating gold in exchange for medals, is that a tradition?"

"It's an unspoken rule," Mrs. Greengrass said calmly. "The Black Family isn't the first, and they won't be the last."

Tom leaned back on the sofa, calculating in his mind. He already had the Silver Cauldron Medal, and the impact of his paper was still unfolding.

The events that took place in the United States and France during the summer vacation cannot be stated explicitly, but they can be disseminated in other ways.

For example, his feat of racing Thunderbird in the Thunderbird Sanctuary could be relayed through Newt Scamander's mouth.

The news that Nicolas Flamel had taken him as a disciple could also spread through the Delacour Family's social circle.

Regarding connections, Mrs. Greengrass has already agreed to help.

She was the Department of Magical Transportation, and had been in Wisemmorg for over a decade, knowing more people than anyone else.

He has money; he owns a villa in Chelsea, but that's a fixed asset.

The money in your investment account shouldn't be touched; it's your long-term meal ticket.

The Ministry of Magic received an order for two hundred bracelets in the first batch, but payment hasn't arrived yet.

In addition to the resources from the Acolyte, and the possible support from Nicolas Flamel...

Seeing Tom remain silent, Mrs. Greengrass gently comforted him, "Don't worry about it. The money isn't your concern. Go back to school and focus on your studies."

Tom thanked him sincerely and said he would find a way to solve the money problem himself.

Mrs. Greengrass smiled when she saw that he had listened to her advice.

"You rushed back from France and haven't had lunch yet, have you? I'll have Parla prepare something for you."

"Not only did I not eat today, I even forgot to eat yesterday." Tom felt a chill run down his spine just thinking about Nicolas Flamel's fanatical behavior, and wished he could just give up on the spot.

Mrs. Greengrass shook her head helplessly, her tone like that of a mother:

"You're at a crucial stage of growth, how can you not eat on time? Sit down and wait, it'll be ready soon."

"Okay, Auntie."

Mrs. Greengrass truly loved Tom like her own son.

There's a saying that a son-in-law is like half a son, but since both of her daughters are in love with Tom, isn't that practically like having another son?

Ever since she last heard Astoria whisper Tom's name during her afternoon nap, she knew that neither of her daughters was "going to survive."

But it doesn't matter, she has to find a way to persuade Tom to let one of the children have the Greengrass surname, so as to at least keep the family line alive.

On the other side, as darkness fell completely, the Hogwarts Express slowly pulled into Hogsmeade Station.

Hagrid braced himself and, as usual, was responsible for welcoming the new students. But before the train had even come to a complete stop, a familiar figure came into his view.

"Riddle? What are you doing here?" Hagrid stammered.