"Have you heard about what happened at Hogwarts on Halloween, my dear?"
Fudge's voice was hushed.
Their table was tucked away in a quiet corner, not too far but not too close to Dylan and his group.
If you listened carefully, you could still make out their words.
"Oh, just some rumors. Are they actually true?" Rosmerta raised an eyebrow, glancing at Hagrid.
McGonagall caught the look and immediately frowned, snapping at Hagrid, "Just how many people have you told about Hogwarts' business?"
Rosmerta covered her mouth with a chuckle. "I'd guess the whole pub."
McGonagall took a deep breath, clearly exasperated. "Hagrid!"
Hagrid gave an embarrassed smile, unsure how to defend himself.
What could he even say? He just had to endure McGonagall's glare.
"Minister, do you really think Black's still around here? It's been so long—why wouldn't he flee somewhere else?"
Fudge smiled but sidestepped the question. "My dear, I'm certain he hasn't left."
Seeing Fudge dodge the details, Rosmerta let out a soft huff, her voice taking on a sharper edge. "I'm sure you heard me earlier, Minister. Those Dementors are giving me a headache! They've come sniffing around three times in the past two days! What could they possibly be searching for?"
She glared at Fudge. "My customers barely sit down with their beers before those things scare them off. You do realize how bad Dementors are for a pub's business, don't you?"
Fudge let out a dry laugh. "Ha… I'm terribly sorry, my dear. I don't like those creatures either—who would?"
"This isn't about liking them! They keep showing up in my pub!"
"I'm sorry, Rosmerta, but it's necessary for protection," Fudge said, his tone tinged with reluctance as his fingers fidgeted with the cuff of his sleeve. "Just earlier, I ran into a few of them. They're not too happy with Dumbledore."
"Why's that?"
"Because during the last Quidditch match at Hogwarts, they barged onto the grounds and got chased out by Dumbledore."
"Of course he did!" McGonagall's voice was stiff with indignation. "Do you know how many students were terrified that day? If we let those ugly, horrifying things roam the school freely, we wouldn't need to teach—we'd just spend all day calming the students!"
"Couldn't have said it better myself!" Flitwick nodded enthusiastically.
Fudge coughed. "Dementors wouldn't attack students randomly. They're here to protect them…"
"Do you actually believe that, Minister?" Rosmerta arched a brow.
"I do—at least they keep you safe from far worse threats." Fudge's face grew serious. "You all know what Black is capable of, don't you?"
The table fell silent.
After a moment, Rosmerta spoke slowly. "I never would've guessed Black would side with You-Know-Who. When I heard about it, I was shocked."
Her voice carried a thoughtful, almost nostalgic tone. "I still remember him at Hogwarts, always wearing that worn-out Gryffindor scarf, coming here to buy drinks. If someone back then had told me he'd go down that path, I'd have thought they'd been sneaking students' hidden mead."
Fudge narrowed his eyes, his voice mingling with the clink of his glass on the table. "You only saw the foam on the beer, Rosmerta." His chubby knuckles tapped the stained tablecloth. "No one's mentioned what he did in his youth—something even Dumbledore would frown at."
"In his youth? Could it really be worse than killing all those people?"
Rosmerta's eyelashes fluttered, and she leaned forward slightly.
"Of course." Fudge took a sip of his drink. "Some evils are beyond words."
"Minister, you've got my curiosity. What was it?"
Fudge stayed silent.
McGonagall spoke up slowly. "Rosmerta, you mentioned how Black was at Hogwarts. Do you remember who his closest friend was back then?"
"How could I forget?" Rosmerta gave a soft laugh and sipped her drink. "Every time I saw them, they were always together. I even thought they weren't into girls. Like that one time here—oh, those two were like a comedy duo. Black would fold candy wrappers into toads and toss them into Potter's glass, and Potter would retaliate by drawing on Black with a quill. They made a mess of my place, but it was a hit. Everyone loved it."
As Rosmerta finished, Dylan noticed Harry, sitting beside him, letting a few strands of hair slip out from under the Invisibility Cloak.
Dylan glanced at him.
Harry's eyes peeked out, wide with shock and disbelief.
His father was best friends with a fugitive?
How could that be?!
No wonder Snape had said those things.
McGonagall nodded. "Yes, Potter and Black—they were the ringleaders of their little group. Gave me endless headaches. Breaking school rules? They were experts. I'd never seen students as mischievous as them before."
"But they were talented, incredibly clever—I'd say downright brilliant," she added.
Hagrid let out a hearty chuckle. "Potter and his crew? I reckon only the Weasley twins could give 'em a run for their money now."
Flitwick smiled. "There's a difference, though. The Weasleys are twins; Potter and Black weren't brothers."
Hagrid grinned. "But when they were together, who wouldn't think they were?"
Flitwick nodded. "Fair point."
"I never would've expected it, but life's full of surprises and hard-to-swallow truths," Fudge said, sighing heavily. "Everyone knew how much Potter trusted Black—more than anyone else. Even after graduation, it was the same."
"I remember when Potter and Lily got married, Black was Harry's godfather, wasn't he?"
Hagrid nodded. "Black was the best man at their wedding, too. Harry doesn't know any of this—no one's told him."
McGonagall huffed. "And no one should tell him! If Harry found out, it'd hit him hard. You know that, don't you, Hagrid?"
"Er…" Hagrid scratched his head. "Of course, Professor McGonagall. I've never mentioned Black to him."
Rosmerta looked at them. "This is all news to me—I didn't pay much attention to Potter's wedding. But what does this have to do with what you're talking about today?"
Fudge set his glass down. "It's absolutely relevant!"
"How? Just because Black was in league with You-Know-Who?"
"It's worse than that!" Fudge leaned toward Rosmerta. "This is something you haven't heard, my dear—hardly anyone knows."
"What is it?"
Fudge paused, then muttered slowly, "The Potters knew You-Know-Who was hunting them. Dumbledore, who was fighting You-Know-Who, had secret spies—very discreet, very capable ones. One of them tipped him off, and Dumbledore immediately warned James and Lily to go into hiding."
Fudge took another sip, swallowing with a gulp. "But hiding from You-Know-Who's pursuit? That's no easy feat. There was only one way to truly disappear."
"The Fidelius Charm?" Rosmerta guessed.
"Exactly, the Fidelius Charm," Fudge confirmed.
"How does that spell work?" Rosmerta hadn't studied such advanced magic.
Fudge didn't answer.
McGonagall stayed silent, too.
Hagrid just scratched his head, looking clueless.
Flitwick puffed out his chest. "It's a very complex spell, but highly effective. It hides a secret inside the soul of a living person."
"Hiding a secret in a soul?" Rosmerta's eyebrows shot up. "I've never heard of anything like—"
She struggled for words.
Flitwick nodded. "Yes, it's that remarkable. The person chosen to hold the secret—the Secret-Keeper—must willingly reveal it. Otherwise, the secret stays locked in their heart, undiscoverable forever."
"If the Secret-Keeper doesn't betray it, the Potters' hiding place could've stayed hidden for a hundred years! Even if You-Know-Who pressed his nose to their living room window, he'd see nothing!"
Dylan nearly choked on his drink, stifling a laugh.
Oh, Professor, come on—Voldemort doesn't even have a nose!
He quickly took a sip to hide his amusement.
"So…" Rosmerta blinked, lowering her voice, "it sounds like Potter's Secret-Keeper was Black?"
"Exactly. The Secret-Keeper for a Fidelius Charm is always the person the caster trusts most," Fudge said.
McGonagall inhaled sharply, then exhaled. "In front of Dumbledore himself, Potter swore Black was trustworthy, that he'd die before betraying them."
"Why didn't Dumbledore become their Secret-Keeper?" Rosmerta asked.
"Dumbledore offered, but he didn't trust Potter choosing someone else for the role," McGonagall said, shaking her head.
"Did Dumbledore suspect something was off with Black? Why let Potter pick him, then?" Rosmerta frowned.
"No, Dumbledore didn't know," McGonagall said, shaking her head again. "But he suspected someone close to the Potters was leaking information to You-Know-Who, reporting their movements."
"And then…" Rosmerta pieced it together.
"Then, despite Dumbledore's concerns, Potter insisted on Black as the Secret-Keeper and went into hiding," Fudge said, his voice heavy. "But within a week of the Fidelius Charm taking effect, the Potters' location was exposed, and You-Know-Who found them."
McGonagall sighed.
Beside Dylan, Harry's entire face emerged from the Invisibility Cloak, his expression dazed, pain flickering in his eyes.
He knew all too well what happened after You-Know-Who found his parents.
His father died silently.
His mother begged for Harry's life but fell to that green flash.
And then, You-Know-Who's laughter—harsh, grating laughter.
"Black eventually grew tired of playing double agent. He didn't want that role anymore, so he openly declared his support for You-Know-Who," Fudge continued, pausing. "And it seems he announced it the moment the Potters died."
Fudge shook his head.
That was the wizarding world's view of Black.
"But later…" Rosmerta clicked her tongue.
"Yes, we know what happened next," Fudge nodded.
When Voldemort was defeated by baby Harry, losing his power and fleeing, Sirius Black found himself in a bind.
Accused of betrayal, with his master suddenly gone, he had no time to explain and could only flee in a desperate escape.
Dylan listened with great interest.
Even though he knew the gist of it, hearing it firsthand was still fascinating.
The Secret-Keeper role, when entrusted to someone else, opened up all sorts of possibilities—and with possibilities came uncertainty.
Even if Sirius hadn't directly betrayed the Potters to Voldemort, in a way, he had.
If not for Sirius's sudden whim, Peter Pettigrew wouldn't have had the chance to leak James Potter's location to Voldemort.
"If you're powerful enough, you could just make yourself the Secret-Keeper," Dylan thought. "But then again, if you're that powerful, you wouldn't need a Secret-Keeper or any secrets to guard in the first place."
His own situation was a bit unique, though.
A wizard like him—strong, but not too strong, yet still really strong—was probably one of a kind in the wizarding world.
He could easily make himself the Secret-Keeper.
No one could catch him and force his secrets out.
Even if someone suspected he was hiding something and tried Veritaserum or spells to crack his mind, he had more than enough countermeasures.
In fact, when it came to protecting his thoughts, he'd developed so many new techniques that probably only a handful of people—like Voldemort, Snape, or Dumbledore—could pose any threat.
(End of Chapter)