The distinctive, sharp crack of Apparition faded, leaving behind only the gentle hush of the ocean and the slowly recovering Muggles being led away by the final Ministry clean-up crew.
Owen Harris, wiping a stray bead of sweat from his brow, turned to Allen with a look of genuine confusion. He had a hundred questions about protocol, paperwork, and the enormous, now-vanished Sea Serpent.
"Why was Aunt Josephine in such an extraordinary rush, Allen? She barely gave me a nod before she vanished. That's highly unusual, even for Ministry brass," Owen asked, his Auror training making him suspicious of any unexplained speed.
Allen shrugged, a faint, satisfied smile playing on his lips. He ignored the tactical question about his aunt's haste—she was rushing to secure his reward, after all—and offered a cryptic, high-praise assessment instead.
"My aunt is an extremely astute and forward-thinking witch, Father. She moves on opportunities before they cool down." This non-answer only deepened Owen's confusion, but before he could press the issue, the rest of the family converged.
After exchanging final goodbyes with the various members of the Accident Reversal Team who were mopping up the last traces of magic, Albert and Lenn joined their father and younger brother.
"Where's Daisy?" Albert asked, his eyes scanning the shore. As the senior Auror, he was surprised to not see his sister, who had been an active participant in the chaos just moments earlier, ensuring the Sea Serpent was correctly corralled.
"Daisy likely felt an urgent need to check on Emily and Mother. She probably didn't want the little one getting any more scared than necessary after all that splashing," Allen supplied smoothly. He knew exactly where Daisy had gone; his enhanced senses had picked up her worried footsteps heading toward the far end of the beach where Morgan LeFay had been keeping watch.
Indeed, they quickly found Daisy and her mother huddled near the rocks where they had last seen the youngest Harris. But the reunion wasn't joyful. Worry was etched deeply onto all their faces. Morgan, usually the picture of collected magical poise, was clearly distressed, wringing her hands with tightly controlled anguish.
"I shouldn't have let you boys mess with that monstrous creature and then left her unattended! I just told her to wait for me right behind those big rocks..." Morgan's voice was tight with rising panic. "She's just... gone. I only looked away for a minute when the Ministry arrived, thinking she'd be distracted by the Apparition sound."
"Don't worry, Mother, we will find Emily, and she'll be perfectly safe," Albert assured her, though his tone held a serious, professional edge that wasn't merely for comfort. As an experienced Auror, he registered the unnatural stillness of the area and the peculiar absence of any tiny footsteps in the sand. Something felt subtly wrong, but not necessarily dangerous.
Albert, whose instincts rarely failed him, walked straight toward the brightly colored ice cream van that Allen had used for his hasty message.
The truck owner had wisely fled the moment the massive Sea Serpent emerged, and after being caught and Obliviated by the Ministry teams, he was now distractedly throwing small pebbles onto the beach, utterly confused about why he was there and why his van was open.
And what was that sound coming from inside the truck? It certainly couldn't be a rat—it was a sound of blissful, rhythmic chewing, suspiciously close to a high-pitched slurp.
Albert slowly and cautiously pulled open the back door of the ice cream truck, sticking his head inside. As expected, a small, very greedy, and very sticky-faced little pest was hiding inside!
Emily, their youngest sister, was crouched in front of a container of strawberry ice cream, devouring the contents with absolute, single-minded focus. She looked up, startled, a dollop of pink cream resting precariously on her nose.
When Albert triumphantly brought Emily out in front of everyone, her lips smeared with a ring of bright strawberry cream, she looked so comical and utterly unbothered that the tension broke instantly. Everyone, even the visibly relieved Morgan, burst into uncontrollable laughter, the sound echoing across the suddenly quiet beach.
"See, Mother? A self-contained magical creature containment unit," Allen quipped, pointing at the truck.
Everyone was tired, their muscles aching, and their stomachs rumbling after the intense magical battle and the subsequent emotional rollercoaster.
Owen Harris waved a hand dismissively at the ruined picnic lunch. "Right. That's enough adrenaline for one day. We are heading into the nearby town to grab a proper meal and take a moment to breathe."
As Allen strolled through the narrow, twisting alleyways of the seaside town, he sensed the atmosphere was brimming with quiet, artistic charm and gentle English romance. Low, sturdy houses clung to the hillside, stretching from the bustling quay toward the serene residential areas.
The center was a labyrinth of narrow alleys and tiny, cobblestone lanes lined with unique little shops selling handcrafted goods and nautical trinkets. The atmosphere here was much calmer than the lively quay, perfect for a peaceful evening stroll after the afternoon's near-catastrophe.
After visiting several art galleries that boasted a surprising amount of local talent, Allen and his family finally found a restaurant tucked right by the fishing harbor.
Built from dark, weathered wood, with low, beamed ceilings and warm, dim lighting, the interior created a charming, cozy ambiance. Small wooden-framed windows offered perfect, intimate views of the fishing boats bobbing gently in the harbor.
The bar offered an impressive variety of local craft beers, and Owen, in a celebratory mood, ordered not only the robust wheat beer preferred by the men but also various fruit liqueurs, such as a delicate pear liqueur, for Morgan and Daisy.
Fine wines were poured alongside the hearty, delicious food. A wide range of local seafood dishes were on offer, and while the preparation might have been considered somewhat rustic by London standards, the undeniable freshness and quality made them exquisite.
After a hearty, well-deserved meal, the conversation finally turned back to the Ministry's unexpected intervention. Allen took the opportunity to relay Aunt Josephine's final words, explaining that, at her aggressive suggestion, the Department of Magical Creatures Control would be submitting an application for the Order of Merlin for the entire family.
Lenn, usually the most grounded and cynical of the siblings, looked like Christmas had come early. "An Order of Merlin? Are you being serious, Allen? If I can get that medal, I'd willingly wrestle an entire school of Sea Serpents every day! That kind of formal recognition would be an astronomical advantage for my future promotion—it's gold on any curriculum vitae!"
"But wait, did we really do anything that remarkable?" Daisy sounded genuinely skeptical, her eyes wide. "We only dealt with a three-star creature—a Sea Serpent, not a full-scale Dragon. I don't think our actions warrant such a high honor, surely?"
Allen patiently recounted the key strategic information he'd gleaned from Northmore's frantic measurements.
"Daisy, Northmore Calliss, the guy with the perpetually crooked nose, confirmed we didn't just fight a Sea Serpent. We subdued what is officially the longest, most powerful Sea Serpent ever recorded in magical history. Aunt Josephine is leveraging the 'World Record' aspect and the extreme risk of exposure to the Muggle world. It wasn't just a monster; it was a crisis waiting to happen."
Meanwhile, back at the Ministry, a similar disagreement was raging, but on a much higher, more bureaucratic level.
"Has there ever been a documented precedent for this? We see numerous breaches of the Statute of Secrecy caused by creatures not knowing how to camouflage themselves, but is it not excessive to award the Merlin Medal of Honour to the wizarding family involved in this particular incident?"
The President of the Wizarding Guild posed the question directly to Aunt Josephine, who was presenting the formal report alongside a slightly bewildered Northmore and a still-bragging Amos Diggory.
"There is, of course, direct precedent to support the claim, Mr. President," Aunt Josephine stated calmly and meticulously prepared. She was holding a leather-bound folio.
"According to the records held at the Department of Regulations and Records, in 1932, a mischievous Welsh Green Dragon—a known creature of habit, certainly less unique than a record-breaking Sea Serpent—attacked a crowded beach full of sunbathing Muggles. A wizarding family, purely by chance, was on holiday there, and their bravery prevented the then-reigning King from being harmed.
As a direct result, the entire family was awarded the Order of Merlin, First Class. While the Harris family only fought a three-star creature, its sheer size, unprecedented nature, and the high-risk environment justify the recognition. Therefore, I believe they are deserving of, at the very least, a Third Class medal."
Aunt Josephine's arguments were not only logically sound and supported by historical fact but also strategically tailored to appeal to the Ministry's need for good public relations.
Recognizing a family of Ministry-linked wizards for such a visible act of community protection—even if the community didn't remember it—would be a great piece of propaganda.
This combination successfully persuaded the President of the Wizarding Guild, who ultimately decided to grant the Harris family the title of Third Degree Wizards of the Order of Merlin, exactly as Aunt Josephine had forcefully suggested.
The news was swiftly conveyed to the Harris family via a specialized Ministry owl. Mr. and Mrs. Harris, who had finally returned home to their coastal cottage, were absolutely delighted and immediately plunged into frantic preparation for the awards ceremony.
Lenn, treating the situation like an imminent job interview, immediately began practicing his winning smile countless times in front of the full-length mirror, aiming to display a look of confident, humble, yet utterly appropriate dignity during the ceremony.
Morgan, accompanied by Daisy, immediately used a Portkey to zoom off to Diagon Alley to commission custom-made, perfectly tailored magical robes for the entire family, specifying the deepest emerald green and gold trim.
Owen Harris carefully scrutinized his own reflection in front of the bathroom mirror, meticulously shaving his beard until he looked the picture of rugged, heroic competence.
The two calmest members of the family were, predictably, Allen and Emily. Allen was quietly focused on the far more satisfying reward—developing his new Parseltongue abilities, which he considered infinitely more valuable than a piece of metal on a ribbon. He was constantly muttering under his breath, testing his newly unlocked skill.
Little Emily, meanwhile, seemed completely bewildered by the sudden, intense family excitement. She just kept asking why she wasn't allowed to have ice cream for breakfast now.
Amidst the thrilling chaos of the family's preparations and anticipation, the day of the Third Class Order of Merlin awarding arrived with a rapid, inevitable speed. Everyone was up before dawn, their excitement too potent to allow for sleep.
The mirror in the hallway instantly became the most prized and disputed possession, with Lenn and Daisy vying for its use to check the drape of their new robes; neither was willing to concede the spot.
Even Albert, typically the calmest person in a crisis, couldn't resist checking his polished black robes again and again, ensuring every crease and fold was perfect for his moment of recognition.
The air in the house hummed with crackling, nervous energy, a completely different kind of chaos than the one they had faced on the beach, but exciting nonetheless.