The first Defense Against the Dark Arts class wrapped up smoothly, and the young witches and wizards spilled out of the classroom, faces alight with excitement.
In small groups, they chattered about the lesson's highlights. It was their first real practical class, and it had been a goldmine of learning. Sure, there'd been a slight hiccup involving Dudley, but everyone agreed: Dudley Dursley didn't operate by normal rules. That was just a fact.
Overall, the class had gone well—leagues better than anything Quirrell or Lockhart ever managed. As the saying goes, no comparison, no harm. Lupin had won over plenty of students, and they were already looking forward to the next lesson.
When Harry and his friends returned to the Gryffindor common room, they found a crowd clogging the corridor outside.
"What's going on here?" Harry asked, tapping a tall older student on the shoulder, curiosity piqued.
The older student, who'd been annoyed at the tap, softened when he saw it was Harry. "The Gryffindor common room's been attacked," he explained. "The Fat Lady's portrait is wrecked—torn to bits. There are scraps of canvas all over the floor."
The Fat Lady was the guardian of Gryffindor's entrance, unlike Ravenclaw's bronze knocker, which only required answering a question correctly. The Fat Lady had a bit more autonomy.
"Any idea who did it?" Harry pressed.
The older student sighed heavily. "Who else? That criminal, Sirius Black. Only someone like him would do something this cruel. Poor Fat Lady. I reckon she won't be guarding the Gryffindor entrance for a while."
Just then, Dumbledore arrived, having been briefed by the professors. After getting a quick rundown of the situation, he started giving orders.
He instructed the professors to escort the students to the Great Hall for the night. A dangerous individual was loose in Hogwarts, and that was far too risky for the students.
Under the professors' guidance, countless young witches and wizards shuffled into the Great Hall, setting up makeshift beds on the floor. Every three hours, a professor would patrol to keep watch.
---
Dumbledore pushed open the door to his office, looking weary.
Even as the greatest white wizard of the century, he was well over a hundred and ten years old. Wizards might live longer than Muggles, but at 110, he was no spring chicken. The last Philosopher's Stone, which could extend life, had vanished into history with Nicolas Flamel's death.
Inside the office, someone was already waiting: Dudley. He was playfully teasing Fawkes, Dumbledore's phoenix, with what looked like a bean. When he saw Dumbledore, he gave a casual greeting.
"Everything sorted?" Dudley asked.
"Minerva and Severus will patrol the first half of the night," Dumbledore replied. "Filius and Pomona will take the second half."
Dumbledore sank into his chair and pulled out a licorice wand, offering one to Dudley, who firmly declined. Shrugging, Dumbledore popped the sweet into his mouth, savoring it.
Sweets always lifted his spirits.
Dudley glanced at the licorice wand. Besides sugar and glucose, it had aniseed oil, giving it an odd, almost toilet-cleaner-like flavor. Only a wizard with Dumbledore's peculiar taste could love it.
"Professor, this is the third time," Dudley said pointedly. "Remember your promise?"
Dumbledore sighed. Of course he remembered.
"Hogwarts is the safest place."
He'd said that.
And once again, reality had slapped him in the face.
"I remember, I remember," Dumbledore said, a touch exasperated.
Truth be told, he was a bit frustrated himself. The first year, they'd had Quirrell, possessed by Voldemort—fine, Dumbledore had known about that. The second year brought Voldemort's Horcrux and a highly dangerous Basilisk, which caught him off guard. Now, in the third year, with Voldemort finally quiet for once, there were Dementors swarming outside the castle and a highly dangerous fugitive sneaking around inside.
Every year brought a new surprise, never a dull moment.
Even Knockturn Alley, the haunt of dark wizards, wasn't this dangerous. At least you could walk out of there alive. The threats at Hogwarts each year could easily kill a grown wizard.
"Professor, do you need my help this time?" Dudley asked, watching Dumbledore munch on his licorice wand. Feeling a bit peckish himself, he didn't take any of Dumbledore's sweets. Instead, he pulled some biscuits from his pocket and started crunching on them.
These were thumbprint biscuits, made by Hagrid in the style of his rock cakes. They sounded disturbingly like snapping fingers—crunch, crunch. Dudley had wanted Hagrid to add cherry juice for a more "finger-like" effect, but cherries weren't in season, so he'd let it go.
"He attacked the Gryffindor common room," Dudley said. "That falls under the discipline group's jurisdiction."
Dumbledore, having finished his licorice wand, was offered one of Dudley's biscuits but declined. He didn't have Dudley's steamroller-like teeth.
Instead, he pulled out a bottle filled with wriggling, black beetle-like creatures—Cockroach Clusters, a candy that looked and sounded revolting but supposedly tasted decent. Popping one into his mouth, he chewed heartily. The sight of the candy's twitching antennae made Dudley's stomach churn. He could practically see the cockroach bursting in Dumbledore's mouth. Even Dudley, no stranger to gross things, quietly set his biscuit down.
That was too much.
When it came to disgusting eating habits, Dudley Dursley would bow to Dumbledore as the undisputed champion.
After savoring his Cockroach Cluster, Dumbledore's furrowed brow relaxed slightly. He looked at Dudley with a serious expression. "Dudley, you're only a third-year student. Sirius Black is far too dangerous."
To be fair, Dumbledore didn't entirely believe Sirius was responsible for the crimes he'd been accused of years ago. Rebellious? Sure. But betray his friends? That didn't add up. Dumbledore suspected there was more to the story.
In his mind, Harry was better suited to handle this situation than Dudley.
Dudley was good at heart, and Dumbledore admired him for it. But he was… inflexible. Too obsessed with justice, too extreme, too direct, and far too violent.
He'd founded the discipline group to uphold fairness and stamp outbullying at Hogwarts. And the results? Well, plenty of students had been expelled or injured (like Audrey, sent to St. Mungo's, and her two bullying roommates, who'd left the school). Dudley had single-handedly taken down a troll threatening students, destroyed Voldemort's lingering soul in the castle (which Dumbledore had planned to spare), obliterated a Horcrux disrupting Hogwarts, and killed the Basilisk that had terrorized the school.
If Dudley got involved with Sirius Black?
Dumbledore had no doubt he'd show no mercy.