Perhaps Madam Rosmerta also realized that Fudge had no intention of addressing the Dementor problem in Hogsmeade, so she dropped the topic, and the conversation quickly moved on.
Naturally, when Dementors came up, the target of their recent search couldn't be avoided—Sirius Black.
"Of all the people who joined You-Know-Who, Sirius Black was the one I least expected… I mean, I remember what he was like when he attended Hogwarts."
"You don't even know the half of it," said Fudge, sipping his mead. "Compared to joining You-Know-Who, he's done something even worse…"
"Worse than killing all those innocent people?" Madam Rosmerta asked.
"Absolutely," Fudge replied.
"I can't believe it."
"Do you remember who his best friend was?" asked Professor McGonagall. "Anyone who knew him would."
"Of course I do," Madam Rosmerta replied without hesitation. "You never saw them apart. Closer than brothers—Sirius Black and James Potter!"
Clatter! Someone's mug hit the floor.
Harold glanced under the table at Sirius, who was now curled up in the corner against the wall, trembling all over.
"If you run out there now, you might be able to stop them," Harold whispered.
Sirius didn't respond.
"You know Harry's listening, right? He's about to hear the truth that isn't the truth."
Sirius finally stirred, looking up at Harold, then firmly shook his head.
"You sure?" Harold was a little surprised—that was unexpected. He'd thought Sirius would do anything to stop Harry from hearing that story.
After all, his role in it was… not exactly honorable.
But since Sirius had made up his mind, Harold didn't press further. Respect was enough.
Just as Harold had predicted, the conversation quickly turned to Sirius's and James Potter's past, and naturally, the Fidelius Charm came up.
James and Lily had wanted to hide—someplace even Voldemort couldn't find them. So they used an old spell, the Fidelius Charm.
This charm hid the exact location of their home inside another person's memory—the Secret-Keeper.
As long as the Secret-Keeper didn't reveal the address, even if Voldemort pressed his face against the window, he wouldn't be able to see them.
But somehow, the address was leaked. One night, Voldemort got in. He killed James Potter and Lily Evans… and himself.
Only Harry remained in that room—The Boy Who Lived.
"Despicable, filthy traitor!" Hagrid suddenly roared, silencing half the bar.
His face was beet red—whether from drink or anger, no one could tell.
Harold looked back under the table, but Sirius was gone.
He must have slipped away while Professor McGonagall was trying to stop Hagrid's outburst.
"What was the point?" Harold sighed.
If Sirius hadn't followed Harry to Hogsmeade, then Harry would've been the only one to feel heartbroken today.
But he had followed—and not only that, he'd followed them into the Three Broomsticks and watched with his own eyes as anger and hatred slowly crept onto Harry's face.
Harold didn't know why Sirius had let Harry hear the entire story—maybe he hoped that when the truth came out later, all the misunderstandings would be resolved at once. But until then, he would have to endure Harry's hatred toward him.
Thinking about it like that, maybe it would've been better if he hadn't heard it at all.
About half an hour later, the professors and Fudge left the Three Broomsticks.
Sometime during that period, Harry had also slipped out from under the table.
"When did he leave?" Ron reached under the table, waving his hand around, but couldn't find any sign of Harry.
"I don't know… probably when Fudge mentioned that Black was his godfather," Hermione said worriedly.
"We should head back quickly," she stood up. "Harold, Ron…"
"I wouldn't recommend it," Harold shook his head. "Not every moment of sorrow needs comforting. Sometimes, being alone works better."
"But…" Hermione hesitated, still feeling like being there for Harry might help.
"If Harry left without a word, it's probably because he didn't want comfort," said Harold. "And what could you even say? Tell him, 'Don't be sad, it's no big deal that your godfather betrayed your parents'?"
Hermione and Ron froze for a second—that's when they realized, they didn't even know how to comfort Harry.
"So… do we just stay in Hogsmeade?" Ron asked.
"That's the best choice," Harold said as he walked to the bar and ordered a Butterbeer for himself.
He hadn't ordered anything earlier so as not to interrupt Rosmerta and Fudge's conversation. He'd just been sitting there in silence for over half an hour.
With the snowstorm outside growing stronger, a warm Butterbeer felt like heaven.
It wasn't until evening that they returned to Hogwarts along with most of the other students.
At dinner, Harry remained silent. Ron and Hermione were anxious but didn't dare bring up what they'd overheard—not with Percy sitting nearby.
After dinner, Dumbledore gave some announcements about the upcoming break, and everyone returned to the common room.
Harold didn't go back right away. Before curfew, he quickly slipped out of the castle and made his way to the edge of the Forbidden Forest, to the spot where Sirius often lingered.
But Sirius wasn't there. Tom was, though—likely just finished with dinner, now lying there comfortably at rest. ɴᴇᴡ ɴᴏᴠᴇʟ ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀs ᴀʀᴇ ᴘᴜʙʟɪsʜᴇᴅ ᴏɴ novel⸺fire.net
Even Tom didn't seem to know where his new "sidekick" had gone.
Harold looked around a bit more, but as curfew approached, he headed back to the castle.
Neither Harry nor Ron were in the common room—only Dean and Seamus playing wizard chess. Presumably, Harry and Ron had gone straight to their dorm.
Harold wanted to go back to the dorm, too.
Not because of Harry, but because Fred and George, in celebration of the upcoming holiday, had set off half a dozen Dungbombs in the dormitory.
When Harold first walked in, he actually thought he was in the wrong place—the entire common room smelled like a giant can of fermented herring. It was eye-watering.
"Oh, for Merlin's sake! Why couldn't you throw the Dungbombs outside?!" Percy shouted furiously.
The stench was overpowering. The dormitory door couldn't block it at all. Percy deeply regretted eating so much at dinner—he had to clamp a hand over his mouth just to stop from vomiting.
"Throw the Dungbombs outside?" Fred looked at him in mock shock. "Do you even hear yourself?"
"Throwing them in the hallway is against school rules!" George said loudly. "What if Filch catches us?"
"But throwing them in the common room isn't against the rules," Fred said cheerfully, tossing another one—which exploded right next to Percy.
Percy's face turned scarlet as he ran off, hand still clamped over his mouth.
There was no staying in the common room tonight. He strongly suspected Fred and George had done this on purpose—because it was the last night before the holiday and they wouldn't be stuck in there themselves.