Since the disastrous episode of the pixies, Professor Lockhart had not brought live creatures to class. Instead, he read passages from his books to them, and sometimes reenacted some of the more dramatic bits. Dudley had soon found that Lockhart's class was a great way to regain some of the points that he lost during Potions. All he had to do was take part in Lockhart's reenactments and flatter the professor. So far, Dudley had been forced to play a simple Transylvanian villager whom Lockhart had cured of a Babbling Curse, a yeti with a head cold, and a vampire who had been unable to eat anything except lettuce since Lockhart had dealt with him. He usually earnt 10 points each lesson—sometimes as much as 20 if he flattered Lockhart enough. Dean and Ron teased Dudley about this, but Dudley was secure in the fact he was going to pass one class with flying colors. Lockhart seemed to like him, and not many teachers ever liked Dudley.

This week, Dudley was playing a werewolf. "Nice loud howl, Dudley - exactly - and then, if you'll believe it, I pounced - like this - slammed him to the floor - thus with one hand, I managed to hold him down - with my other, I put my wand to his throat - I then screwed up my remaining strength and performed the immensely complex Homorphus Charm- he let out a piteous moan - go on, Dudley - higher than that - good - the fur vanished - the fangs shrank - and he turned back into a man. Simple, yet effective - and another village will remember me forever as the hero who delivered them from the monthly terror of werewolf attacks."

Dudley applauded and Ron and Dean joined in.

"Great work, Professor," Dudley said. "I heard it takes an exceptional wizard to cast the, erm, Hormone Charm."

"That it does, Dudley, that it does. And let's see, 10 points to Gryffindor for assisting me."

Dudley winked at Ron and Dean.

The bell rang and Lockhart got to his feet.

"Homework - compose a poem about my defeat of the Wagga Wagga Werewolf! Signed copies of Magical Me to the author of the best one!"

The class began to leave. Dudley returned to the back of the room, where Ron and Dean were waiting.

"Ready?" Dudley muttered.

"Wait about a bit," Ron said. "Hermione and Neville are with Lockhart."

Dudley sighed with irritation. Trust Hermione to be wasting time after class asking questions. He was surprised that Neville was doing the same, but then again, he might be struggling with the class—which wasn't unusual. Neville struggled with most of his lessons.

The three watched as Lockhart pulled out an enormous peacock quill. Ron looked disgusted.

"I don't believe it, they're getting his autograph," Dudley muttered as Lockhart signed a bit of parchment for them.

After Hermione and Neville had left, Dudley went up to the desk. Dean and Ron had gone over what he had to say and Dudley was trying to remember it all.

"Professor, I was wondering if you could help me,"

"Of course," Lockhart beamed at him. "Anything for my protégé," he winked.

"Erm, right, well … in Holidays with Hags you -"

"Mine too, Professor. But you mention different ways of magical spying, and I'm erm, doing an essay on that sort of thing. I was wondering if you had any suggestions of what I can include," Dudley.

"Well, there are lots of ways. Some very tricky eavesdropping charms—tricky for other wizards I should say, I of course, can pull them off easily. Of course, you place the charm in the room and you can hear everything that goes wrong. There are also invisibility cloaks—very useful—and disillusionment charms. I could brew a disillusionment charm in my sleep, that's got me out of some very tricky spots, I can tell you. There's also polyjuice potion, of course."

Dudley had an invisibility cloak, but to spy on Malfoy with that, he would need access to the Slytherin common room. "What if you needed to get information from somebody? You mention interrogating a warlock …"

"Ah, legilimens," Lockhart said knowingly. "A very, very difficult form of magic—allows the caster to delve into the mind of others. I'm one of the only legilimens masters."

"It's like mindreading?" Dudley asked.

"Yes, yes—it is mindreading," Lockhart said, airily. "But very few wizards have the ability to use it, Dudley."

Dudley frowned. That didn't seem suitable either. If Lockhart was right, then he doubted whether he, Ron or Dean could learn it to use on Malfoy.

"And if you can't use legilimens?" Dudley asked.

"I suppose veritaserum will do—a truth potion," he added, seeing Dudley's confused look.

"And that's easy to brew, Professor?"

"For me? Yes, of course."

That seemed like it might work—if he could get hold of some veritaserum and get Malfoy to drink it.

"And if I wanted to erm, get a sample," Dudley said, thinking quickly. "For an experiment—I want to write about the effects."

"Very heavily regulated," Lockhart said. "Of course it is—can't have everybody going around spilling their secrets, can we?"

Dudley shook his head.

"Anything else?"

Dudley, Ron and Dean reconvened outside and Dudley told them all that he had learned.

"Sounds tricky," Ron admitted.

"Pounding him is still the simplest way," Dudley shrugged.

"I suppose we can go and check how to make veritaserum," Dean said, doubtfully. "Though neither of us are exactly good at potions.'

Dudley knew he was wishing that Hermione was still friends with them. If anyone could think up a way to interrogate Malfoy or brew up veritaserum it would be her.

When they arrived at the library, Hermione, unsurprisingly was there. What was surprising was that she was in the advanced section.

"She's up to something," Ron said, as Dean went off to find a potions book which might cover veritaserum. "I've been with Fred and George long enough to know when someone is up to no good."

"Hermione's a goody-two-shoes," Dudley said. "What do you think she'd be up to?"

"I dunno, but she's up to something."

Dean returned with a book called "An Encyclopaedia of Potions". He leafed through it until he found veritaserum.

The book didn't contain instructions on making it—just an outline of what it did. "The most powerful truth serum in the world—just a few drops will have anybody spilling their most innermost secrets. Its use is heavily regulated by the Ministry of Magic. Notoriously difficult to brew and disastrous to get wrong, it takes a month to brew and only potion's masters have the skills necessary to do so."

"That's that then," Dean said, slamming the book shut. "No chance are us three going to make that."

"I suppose we'll have to think up another idea," Ron muttered. He sounded irritated that their plan had been all for nothing.

Any possible plans were put on hold as the first quidditch match of the season was approaching, and Ron was spending much of his free time practicing. Wood was adamant that Gryffindor would perform better than last year's dismal efforts. Ron had finally gotten himself a decent broom. He had sent an owl to his brother Charlie in Romania asking to borrow his. Charlie had been an excellent quidditch player (Ron was fond of saying how he could have played for England) and still kept a broom to fly for fun. Charlie had sent his spare broom—a Comet 260. It was much better than Ron's old Shooting Star, but not a patch on Malfoy's Nimbus 2001, as Malfoy was fond of saying whenever they were in earshot.

"How is he?" Dudley had asked Fred and George after one practice.

"Not bad," George admitted. "Nowhere near as good as Charlie, but better than the idiot we had last year."

On the morning of the quidditch match, it was a muggy sort of day. Dudley and Dean said their goodbyes to Ron who was looking nervous and took their seats in the stadium.

Lee Jordan was providing comedy as usual.

"And Flint grabs the quaffle, passed to Pucey—nice bludger from Fred or George. Johnson takes the quaffle—what a seeker that girl is, look at her go! Stopped by a bludger by Bole. Montague grabs the quafflae—AND he's hit by the bludger …"

And on it went. Wood's tactics were to target Malfoy and throw him off his game as much as possible, so many of Fred and George's bludgers went in his direction. As a result, the Slytherin seekers were largely unimpeded and were gaining a steady lead. "As long as Ron grabs the snitch, it doesn't matter!" Wood had insisted.

"Johnson shoots! Johnson scores! And that's her fifth goal. I asked if she'd go out with me if she hits ten ..."

"Jordan!"

"Spinnet passes to Bell who … is that the snitch!"

The crowd gasped, Ron had gone into a dive, heading to a gap in between the Weasley twins. Malfoy was quickly catching up on his faster broom. Suddenly, Ron lifted into the air, just as both Weasleys hit the bludger.

One, two –both bludgers hit Malfoy one after the other, driving into his ribs. There was a loud "Oooh" from the crowd as Malfoy hung weakly on his broom.

"Great coordination by the Weasleys there!" Jordan crowed. "Ron led the diversion and Fred and George hit Malfoy with the bludgers. Great teamwork!"

While Malfoy was dazed, Ron flew in a figure of eight, looking for the snitch. Without warning, Malfoy shot into a dive.

"Ron!" cried Wood.

Ron dived after Malfoy but it was futile. His broom just wasn't quick enough. Malfoy swerved a bludger, reached out and grabbed the snitch. He landed awkwardly and stood up, one hand pressed to his stomach and the other held high in the air as the Slytherin section exploded into applause.

"And Malfoy grabs the snitch," Jordan said, disgustedly. "Slytherin win 250 to 70."

Ron looked dejected as the Gryffindor team landed. Fred and George looked like they wanted to punch somebody.

After the crowds had thinned, Dudley and Dean went to meet Ron. He looked moody.

"You flew well, mate," Dean said. "If Malfoy didn't have a better broom."

Ron grunted, noncommittedly as they headed back to the castle.

"Like that Weasley?" a voice drawled. Stepping out from the shadows of the castle door was Malfoy, accompanied by Derrick, Bole, Flint, Crabbe and Goyle.

"That's the difference between having a good broom and that scrap wood you were flying. I'm surprised you even have a Comet 260—did your father have to sell his house to afford it? I mean, I heard he'd been sacked."

Ron didn't reply. He pulled out his wand and fired a spell at Malfoy.

Dudley fumbled with his own wand. Dean already had his drawn and had cast a stinging hex at Crabbe, hitting him in the face.

Dudley hit Bole with his favorite leg-locker, then cried out as a spell from Flint hit him. His teeth were expanding rapidly, prizing his jaw open as they rubbed together. It was pain like he had never felt before and he fell to his knees, his eyes watering. His jaw felt like it was going to snap off.

He was vaguely aware of a shout of pain from Dean and Ron, and then a sudden bang. "How dare you!" he dimly heard McGonagall shouting. "Six on three! How dare you."

He felt in too much pain to notice what was happening, and then felt a hand on his shoulder. "Hospital wing, Dursley. Thomas, you take him there. Weasley, stay here—let me cast the counterjinx."

Dudley clenched his fists against the pain. Though his teeth had stopped growing now, his jaws were still forced widely apart and it felt unbearable.

"Come on mate, let's get you to Pomfrey," Dean said, sounding shook up.