On the day of the Hogsmeade meeting, Dudley, Hermione and Neville met Lockhart at the Shrieking Shack. He was wearing lilac coloured robes today and a woolly hat with ear flaps to match.

"Right," he said, clapping his hands together. "I did say Rita was going to do a litle piece on our lesson, but she couldn't make it today. I will report back to her afterwards. Let's start with some practice shall we? Do you all remember the charm?"

They practiced the hand movements and incantation for a bit and tested the memory charm once on each other first. After 20 minutes or so, Lockhart clapped his hands together to stop the practice.

"Very good, you can do the basics, which should help you in a pinch. But of course, experienced practitioners of the memory charm like myself can use in more subtle ways than merely erasing the last few seconds of a person's memory. Now, this is very tricky to do and takes a great deal of concentration and magic to get right. I am of course talking about selecting specific memories to remove. Very tricky, but very useful. Why, I could cast obliviate now, enter your mind and remove memories from many years ago—I don't think even Dumbledore has the mastery I do. Of course, it's not the only weapon in my arsenal—I didn't get rid of the Hag of Harstad by removing its memory—but it has its uses, it has its uses."

He smiled at them. "So, what you need to do is to focus on the memory you wish to remove, while casting the charm."

Hermione stuck her hand up. "Professor, can you only remove memories that you yourself know?"

"Not at all," Lockhart said, briskly. "I'm a master of the art. I can remove any memory—cast my charm, dig around in your mind and find a select memory to remove. But it is easier if you know what to look for. Say, breakfast this morning—if you cast the charm while thinking about Neville's breakfast, you can remove said memory of his breakfast, leaving everything else intact. Now, I don't expect you to get it right away, even I needed a lot of practice to get this good."

He removed a small, purple ball out of his pocket. "Now, I want you to look at this, remember its shape, its color, its size."

He put the ball away and summoned Neville forward. "Now, Neville. Do you remember what I held?"

"A purple ball. A small, purple ball."

"Good, now Hermione ..."

Hermione stepped forward. "This time, when you cast obliviate, I want you to focus on the ball. Focus on removing Neville's memories of the purple ball. Focus on making him forget. Can you do that? Right-o, on three. One, two, three!"

"Obliviate!"

Neville's face turned blank.

"Neville, do you remember what I was holding?"

"A purple ball of course," Neville said. "You only put it into your pocket a second ago."

"Tsk tsk, not quite," Lockhart said. "Now, allow me. Obliviate!"

Without a word of warning, he cast the spell at Neville, whose face went blank once more.

"Where ..." Neville began, "Wait, I am supposed to be practicing with Hermione?"

"Neville, what do I have in my pocket?" Lockhart asked.

"I ..." Neville's face screwed up in concentration. "I don't know."

"There you go," Lockhart said, beaming.

"Now, Dudley practice on Hermione. After, Neville can have a try on Dudley,"

After 15 minutes, Lockhart called a stop to their practice. None of them, not even Hermione, had managed to make the other forget about the purple ball. They all just forget about the few seconds before the spell.

Lockhart, however, didn't look disappointed. "Not to worry, I expected as much. It is a very tricky spell to get the hang of. Now, we will stop there—too many memory charms can be quite dangerous. Now, who wants to accompany me to Madame Puddifoots?"

Madame Puddifoots turned out to be a small, obnoxiously pink tea shop.

"My favorite place in Hogsmeade," Lockhart announced, leading them to a pair of tables. Everyone else in the small, cramped tea shop seemed to be a courting couple, most holding hands.

Dudley felt awkward and out of place. Especially when a cloud of confetti burst over him.

"What may I ..." the owner began and then squealed when she recognised Lockhart. "It is you! Mr. Lockhart! I am a big fan of yours, can I trouble you ..."

"An autograph?" Lockhart guessed. He pulled a photo from his pocket. "Word of advice, Dudley, when you get as famous as me, always carry a stack of photos around with you."

He signed it with a flourish and handed it to Madame Puddifoot

"Your tea is on the horse, Mr. Lockhart—why, I remember when you used to come here when you were just a lad. Look at you now." She bustled off.

Lockhart looked pleased. "The benefits of fame, Dudley, the benefits of fame. Adoring fans and all the free items I desire."

Madame Puddifoot hurried over carrying four cups of tea. Dudley tried his, it was sickly sweet. As they drank their tea, Lockhart regaled them with tales of his exploits "This is bonus content, didn't make the books!" he said with a rogueish wink.

He told them about encounters with goblins and a giant which had nearly smushed him into a pulp. "A stunner, right in the eye!" Lockhart said. "Usually it takes at least four grown wizards to stun a giant—very thick skin."

After an hour or so, Lockhart announced it was time for him to leave. They all said goodbye and went their seperate ways.

"Don't make me go there again," Neville said, picking confetti out of his hair.

Dudley and Hermione laughed.

"I'm not surprised at all that that's Lockhart's favorite place," Dudley said.

As they had a bit of time to kill before meeting Ron and Dean, they went to the Post Office. Both Hermione and Neville wanted to send a quicker letter home before the holidays and Hermione also wanted to mail order a new muffler since hers had torn.

A couple of hours later, Dudley, Hermione and Neville headed to the Three Broomsticks to meet Ron and Dean. They found them already occupying a table with a bag of Honeydukes chocolate each. They were sat towards the back of the bar in a quiet corner. They ordered a Butterbeer each and told each other how they had spent their day.

Partway through their drinks, the door opened and a group of people headed to the bar. Dudley was just telling about Rita asking them questions when they heard some chattering voice being led their way.

"What's Fudge doing here?" Ron muttered. Dudley glanced over, sure enough, it was the Minister of Magic himself, accompanied by Professor McGonagall, Professor Flitwick and Hagrid. The group sat down at the table next to Dudley's and Madame Rosmerta, the attractive owner of the Three Broomsticks came over.

"A small gillywater -"

"Mine," said Professor McGonagall's voice.

"Four pints of mulled mead -"

"Ta, Rosmerta," said Hagrid.

"A cherry syrup and soda with ice and umbrella -"

"Mmm!" said Professor Flitwick, smacking his lips.

"So you'll be the red currant rum, Minister."

"Thank you, Rosmerta, m'dear," said Fudge's voice. "Lovely to see you again, I must say. Have one yourself, won't you? Come and join us..."

"Well, thank you very much, Minister."

Rosmerta went to the bar and came back again, joining the group at the table.

"So, what brings you to this neck of the woods, Minister?" came Madam Rosmerta's voice.

He said in a quiet voice, "What else, m'dear, but Sirius Black? I daresay you heard what happened up at the school at Halloween?"

"I did hear a rumor," admitted Madam Rosmerta.

"Did you tell the whole pub, Hagrid?" said Professor McGonagall exasperatedly.

"Do you think Black's still in the area, Minister?" whispered Madam Rosmerta.

"I'm sure of it," said Fudge shortly.

"You know that the Dementors have searched the whole village twice?" said Madam Rosmerta, a slight edge to her voice. "Scared all my customers away...It's very bad for business, Minister."

"Rosmerta, dear, I don't like them any more than you do," said Fudge uncomfortably. "Necessary precaution... unfortunate, but there you are...I've just met some of them. They're in a fury against Dumbledore - he won't let them inside the castle grounds."

"I should think not," said Professor McGonagall sharply. "How are we supposed to teach with those horrors floating around?"

"Hear, hear!" squeaked tiny Professor Flitwick, whose feet were dangling a foot from the ground.

"All the same," demurred Fudge, "they are here to protect you all from something much worse...We all know what Black's capable of, and don't forget, Lucius Malfoy is on the loose too."

"Are they working together then?" Madam Rosmerta asked.

"Alas, we don't know," Fudge sighed. "It seemed logical that Malfoy will try to join up with Black—possibly even with the Death Eaters who helped him escape. We have the Aurors hunting high and low for them, but if Black is trying to reform the old gang, we could be in trouble."

"Do you know, I still have trouble believing it," said Madam Rosmerta thoughtfully. "Of all the people to go over to the Dark Side, Sirius Black was the last I'd have thought...I mean, I remember him when he was a boy at Hogwarts. Malfoy, he was always a nasty piece of work. But Black, if you'd told me then what he was going to become, I'd have said you'd had too much mead."

"You don't know the half of it, Rosmerta," said Fudge gruffly. "The worst he did isn't widely known."

"The worst?" said Madam Rosmerta, her voice alive with curiosity. "Worse than murdering all those poor people, you mean?"

"I certainly do," said Fudge.

"I can't believe that. What could possibly be worse?"

"You say you remember him at Hogwarts, Rosmerta," murmured Professor McGonagall. "Do you remember who his best friend was?"

"Naturally," said Madam Rosmerta, with a small laugh. "Never saw one without the other, did you? The number of times I had them in here - ooh, they used to make me laugh. Quite the double act, Sirius Black and James Potter!"

"Dud, wasn't that your uncle?" Ron hissed.

"Shhh!" this was Hermione.

"Precisely," said Professor McGonagall. "Black and Potter. Ringleaders of their little gang. Both very bright, of course - exceptionally bright, in fact - but I don't think we've ever had such a pair of troublemakers -"

"I dunno," chuckled Hagrid. "Fred and George Weasley could give 'em a run fer their money."

"You'd have thought Black and Potter were brothers!" chimed in Professor Flitwick. "Inseparable!"

"Of course they were," said Fudge. "Potter trusted Black beyond all his other friends. Nothing changed when they left school. Black was best man when James married Lily. I believe they even made Black godfather when young Harry was born."

"They had no idea Black was in league with You-Know-Who?" Rosmera said.

"None at all," Fudge said, sadly.

Fudge dropped his voice and proceeded in a sort of low rumble. "Not many people are aware that the Potters knew You-Know-Who was after them. Dumbledore, who was of course working tirelessly against You-Know-Who, had a number of useful spies. One of them tipped him off, and he alerted James and Lily at once. He advised them to go into hiding. Well, of course, You-Know-Who wasn't an easy person to hide from. Dumbledore told them that their best chance was the Fidelius Charm."

"How does that work?" said Madam Rosmerta, breathless with interest. Professor Flitwick cleared his throat.

"An immensely complex spell," he said squeakily, "involving the magical concealment of a secret inside a single, living soul. The information is hidden inside the chosen person, or Secret-Keeper, and is henceforth impossible to find - unless, of course, the Secret-Keeper chooses to divulge it. As long as the Secret-Keeper refused to speak, You-Know-Who could search the village where Lily and James were staying for years and never find them, not even if he had his nose pressed against their sitting room window!"

"So Black was the Potters' Secret-Keeper?" whispered Madam Rosmerta.

"Naturally," said Professor McGonagall. "James Potter told Dumbledore that Black would die rather than tell where they were, that Black was planning to go into hiding himself...and yet, Dumbledore remained worried. I remember him offering to be the Potters' Secret-Keeper himself."

"He suspected Black?" gasped Madam Rosmerta.

"He was sure that somebody close to the Potters had been keeping You-Know-Who informed of their movements," said Professor McGonagall darkly. "Indeed, he had suspected for some time that someone on our side had turned traitor and was passing a lot of information to You-Know-Who."

"But James Potter insisted on using Black?"

"He did," said Fudge heavily. "And then, barely a week after the Fidelius Charm had been performed -"

"Black betrayed them?" breathed Madam Rosmerta.

"He did indeed. Black was tired of his double-agent role, he was ready to declare his support openly for You-Know-Who, and he seems to have planned this for the moment of the Potters' death. As we know, You-Know-Who then went and murdered the Potters, even the little baby Harry. -"

"Filthy, stinkin' turncoat!" Hagrid said, so loudly that half the bar went quiet.

"Shh!" said Professor McGonagall.

"I met him!" growled Hagrid. "I musta bin the last ter see him before he killed all them people! There was the house-all ruins. Lily dead. James dead an' little Harry Potter dead. You-know-who was gone. Then Black arrived on tha' flying motorbike o' his. Never occurred ter me what he was doin' there. I didn' know he'd bin Lily an' James's Secret-Keeper. Thought he'd jus' heard the news o' You-Know-Who's attack an' come ter see what he could do."

"Why was he there?" Rosmerta said.

"Nobody knows," said Fudge. "It's been discussed—perhaps he came to see whether the job was done. He could even have showed up to pay his last respects to his old friends. I believe he came in an attempt to throw us off the scent. He could even have come to warn You-Know-Who that Dumbledore was tracking him."

"But it didn't throw the Ministry of the scent, The Ministry of Magic caught up with him next day!" said Madame Rosmerta.

"Alas, if only we had," said Fudge bitterly. "It was not we who found him. It was little Peter Pettigrew - another of the Potters' friends. Maddened by grief, no doubt, and knowing that Black had been the Potters' Secret-Keeper, he went after Black himself."

"Pettigrew...that fat little boy who was always tagging around after them at Hogwarts?" said Madam Rosmerta.

"Hero-worshipped Black and Potter," said Professor McGonagall. "Never quite in their league, talent-wise. I was often rather sharp with him. You can imagine how I - how I regret that now..." She sounded as though she had a sudden head cold.

"There, now, Minerva," said Fudge kindly, "Pettigrew died a hero's death. Eyewitnesses - Muggles, of course, we wiped their memories later - told us how Pettigrew cornered Black. They say he was sobbing, 'Lily and James, Sirius! How could you?' And then he went for his wand. Well, of course, Black was quicker. Blew Pettigrew to smithereens..."

Professor McGonagall blew her nose and said thickly, "Stupid boy...foolish boy...he was always hopeless at dueling...should have left it to the Ministry ..."

"I tell yeh, if I'd got ter Black before little Pettigrew did, I wouldn't've messed around with wands - I'd 've ripped him limb - from - limb," Hagrid growled.

"You don't know what you're talking about, Hagrid," said Fudge sharply. "Nobody but trained Hit Wizards from the Magical Law Enforcement Squad would have stood a chance against Black once he was cornered. I was Junior Minister in the Department of Magical Catastrophes at the time, and I was one of the first on the scene after Black murdered all those people. I - I will never forget it. I still dream about it sometimes. A crater in the middle of the street, so deep it had cracked the sewer below. Bodies everywhere. Muggles screaming. And Black standing there laughing, with what was left of Pettigrew in front of him...a heap of bloodstained robes and a few - a few fragments -"

Fudge's voice stopped abruptly. There was the sound of five noses being blown.

"Well, there you have it, Rosmerta," said Fudge thickly. "Black was taken away by twenty members of the Magical Law Enforcement Squad and Pettigrew received the Order of Merlin, First Class, which I think was some comfort to his poor mother. Black's been in Azkaban ever since."

Madam Rosmerta let out a long sigh.

"Is it true he's mad, Minister?"

"I wish I could say that he was," said Fudge slowly. "I certainly believe his master's defeat unhinged him for a while. The murder of Pettigrew and all those Muggles was the action of a cornered and desperate man - cruel... pointless. Yet I met Black on my last inspection of Azkaban. You know, most of the prisoners in there sit muttering to themselves in the dark; there's no sense in them...but I was shocked at how normal Black seemed. He spoke quite rationally to me. It was unnerving. You'd have thought he was merely bored - asked if I'd finished with my newspaper, cool as you please, said he missed doing the crossword. Yes, I was astounded at how little effect the Dementors seemed to be having on him - and he was one of the most heavily guarded in the place, you know. Dementors outside his door day and night."

"But what do you think he's broken out to do?" said Madam Rosmerta. "Good gracious, Minister, he isn't trying to rejoin You-Know-Who, is he?"

"I daresay that is his - er - eventual plan," said Fudge evasively. "But we hope to catch Black long before that. I must say, You-Know-Who alone and friendless is one thing...but give him back his most devoted servant, and I shudder to think how quickly he'll rise again. Its troubling times, especially with Malfoy on the loose."

"Why did he try to break into Hogwarts?" Rosmerta asked.

"We can only speculate," said Fudge. "But Black is dangerous, and if he and Malfoy have teamed up ..."

"You know, Cornelius, if you're dining with the headmaster, we'd better head back up to the castle," said Professor McGonagall.

Dudley's group were silent until they left, then exploded into chatter.

"Did anyone else know Black was friends with Dudley's uncle?" asked Ron.

Everyone shook their heads.

"Wow, you don't think he's after you because of that?" Dean asked.

"Who's to say he's after me at all?" Dudley said, indignantly.

"How would Black even know who Dudley is?" Ron said. "He's been in Azkaban for years."

"He might be with Malfoy, he would have told," Hermione said.

"Yeah, but, come on," Dudley said. "Wouldn't they be more bothered about resurrecting Voldemort or something?"

"Maybe there's something hidden at Hogwarts that Black is looking for?" Neville suggested.

They were all silent as they pondered this.