As the end of November approached, Hari’s mood improved significantly. In the last Quidditch match of the term, Ravenclaw absolutely flattened Hufflepuff, giving Gryffindor a far better run for getting the Cup after all. The end of term was coming closer, bringing with it thick layers of glittering snow that stuck in students’ hair as they went outside onto the grounds. Hari and the other Gryffindor Quidditch players were having just as many practices as before, playing until they were numb with the cold and covered in snow like they had a bad case of dandruff.

To everyone’s delight, there was to be another Hogsmeade trip on the last weekend before the end of term. Having done all of his work on time, or even early, Minerva granted Hari permission to visit the village this time.

However, after another freezing cold Quidditch practice as Hari was making his way up to the Gryffindor common room, he ran into Hogwarts’ biggest trickster: Peeves the poltergeist.

He was sitting cross legged in the air, juggling an assortment of large, colourful eggs precariously in the air. Hari paused to look up at the hovering poltergeist as he cackled to himself, apparently unaware of Hari watching him.

That is, until he looked down. His face twisted into a manic, mischievous grin and before Hari could protest or get away, Peeves shrieked loudly and threw all three of the multi coloured eggs into the air. Hari ducked out of the way, flinching as Peeves flew directly into a nearby grandfather clock, knocking it over and smashing it into hundreds of pieces of metal and wood, the clock face rolling away.

“Peeves!” Hari yelped, just as one of the eggs landed directly on his head with a loud crack. He jumped back as another egg landed at his feet and the other one hit the wall. Hari was covered from head to toe in slippery, cold and violently green yolk. As Peeves vanished around a corner, Hari heard fast footsteps coming from the other end of the corridor, dread filling him like water in a sinking ship.

“You! What are you doing?!” shouted Argus Filch, running towards Hari with Mrs. Norris quick at his heels. “You are mucking up the place again! Absolutely no respect for this school or my job!”

“It wasn’t me! It was Peeves! I swear!” Hari insisted, gesturing around the sticky, gooey remains of the shattered eggs surrounding and covering him. He had bits of shell stuck to his clothes and in his hair. “He went that way.” He pointed behind him.

“A likely story,” said Filch angrily. “I know it was you, Potter! Come with me!”

Hari groaned, reluctantly following Filch towards his office nearby. Trust Peeves to ruin Hari’s good mood.

Hari had only been to Filch’s office on one other occasion, the year before. Like last time, Filch had gone berserk at Hari for mucking up the castle accidentally, threatening him with detention and only letting him off after Ron and Draco talked Peeves into knocking a vanishing cabinet down to distract him. Now, it was because of Peeves that Hari found himself back in the cramped, stuffy office with the creaking torture devices hanging from the ceiling and the many bookshelves full of detention slips.

“Stealing potions supply, no doubt… Mucking up my corridors… Destroying an ancient grandfather clock... Lying about doing it… You’re in for it now, Potter,” Filch grumbled hotly to Hari, searching around his desk for something, his grumpy face twisted into a cruel, concentrated frown. “Damn, someone’s taken my quills…”

Hari said nothing. He was quickly trying to think of a way to get out of the situation.

“Stay here while I get stuff to write your punishment with…”

As Filch left Hari alone in the office again, Hari wondered how he seemed to find himself in this situation repeatedly.

Bored as he waited, Hari wandered over to one of the drawers of punishments and offences, finding one dedicated entirely to Fred and George. Grinning at the twins’ insistent pranks, Hari thumbed through the different files on them, laughing at the various descriptions of pranks. There were pranks about dropping dungbombs down a flight of stairs, shutting Mrs. Norris in a broom cupboard, setting off fireworks in the Great Hall and even throwing paint-filled balloons at unsuspecting first years.

In the most recent file, however, Hari found a piece of old parchment. The file it was inside read simply: Evidence of Misuse

Curious as to what it was, Hari pulled his wand out, careful not to get more green egg yolk on the paper and tapped the centre. He whispered, “Revelio.” After a moment, Hari’s eyes widened as words appeared on the parchment in various different handwriting.

Messrs. Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot and Prongs suggest Mr. Hari Potter uses a far more clever way to reveal our secrets.

Hari could hear footsteps returning down the corridor and shoved the parchment inside his robes, quickly hurrying over to where he had been standing. Filch returned, huffing and puffing, carrying a large quill and covered in similar green gunk as Hari.

“I… found Peeves… with… Augurey eggs…” he wheezed, clutching a stitch in his side. “Get out of my office before I change my mind. You’re lucky Peeves admitted his crimes.” Hari thanked Filch and hurried out of the room again, hearing him muttering to himself about getting Peeves this time.

A few hours later, freshly showered and clean of Augurey eggs, Hari was sitting up in bed, looking over the strange parchment he got from Fred and George’s section of Filch’s office. He was trying to figure out what exactly this parchment did, trying all kinds of phrases and spells.

“Messr. Padfoot asks that Hari Potter promises to use our gift for mischief.”

Hari sighed at yet another comment from one of the supposed ‘Marauders’. “I promise I’ll use this for mischief,” Hari whispered to the parchment.

“Messr. Prongs suggests that Hari Potter uses his brain properly and tries to come up with a cleverer attempt. Or buys a thesaurus.”

“Just reveal yourself, you arseholes.”

“Messr. Wormtail thinks Hari Potter has very poor manners and should watch his language.”

Hari groaned at the growing insults from the parchment, which he had been working at all evening.

“Okay, so you want me to tell you that I’m up to mischief, is that it?”

“Messr. Moony thinks Hari Potter is getting warmer, finally.”

“Messr. Prongs suggests Hari Potter is more solemn about his promise to wreak havoc.”

“God, this is the last time I will converse with bloody parchment again…” Hari thought aloud. “I solemnly swear… I am going to cause mischief.”

The parchment insulted him yet again and, finally giving up on figuring out their cryptic clues alone, Hari threw open the curtains, shoved the parchment inside his robes and swept down the stairs towards the common room. Thankfully, they were sitting downstairs still.

“Fred? George? Can I speak to you in private for a moment?” Hari said, marching across the common room to where Fred, George, Lee Jordan and Angelina Johnson were talking about Quidditch.

“Course we can,” said George, jumping to his feet.

They followed Hari upstairs to his empty dormitory where Hari pulled out the mysterious parchment. At the sight of the paper, both Fred and George’s faces lit up, eyes widening.

“You found the Marauder’s Map!” exclaimed Fred.

“Is that what this is?” said Hari, pulling the parchment out of their reach. “I found it in Filch’s office in a drawer dedicated entirely to you two—impressive collection, by the way—and I figured you two knew how to work it. I’ve been trying since I got back from being egged by Peeves but all it’s done so far is insult me.”

“Pretty brilliant you managed to find it, really,” said Fred, looking impressed. “Filch took it from us weeks ago after we set off too many dungbombs again.”

“We’ve been using that for years now,” said George. “It’s the key to our success.”

“Yes, well how do I work it?” asked Hari impatiently. “The last thing I said was ‘I solemnly swear I’m going to cause mischief’ but they just insulted me again and said I was almost there.”

Fred and George shared a grin. “How on earth did you get that close so fast? It took us weeks,” said Fred. “Give it here. I’ll show you the little beauty.”

Hari reluctantly handed over the map and Fred tapped it with his wand and said clearly, “I solemnly swear that I am up to no good.” At once, the now familiar mixed handwriting appeared across the parchment, along with several criss-crossed lines.

Messrs. Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot and Prongs:
Purveyors of Aids to Magical Mischief Makers
Are proud to present
The Marauder’s Map

Hari pulled the parchment back and opened it up. It was an entire, incredibly detailed map of Hogwarts. Tiny ink dots with names on them moved around the paper, showing where people were right that instant. He could see three dots at the top of Gryffindor tower labelled with their three names. There were secret passages Hari recognised from his years of childhood boredom, as well as passages he had never seen. He could see Filch and Mrs. Norris standing in Dumbledore’s study, no doubt discussing Peeves’ chaos again.

“Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot and Prongs,” said George wistfully. “We owe them our life’s work.”

“Working tirelessly to produce a new generation of chaos and rule-breaking,” said Fred.

“Don’t forget to wipe it clean—” said George.

“—or anyone can read it,” added Fred, pulling the map back and tapping it with his wand again. He whispered, “Mischief managed.” The ink disappeared once again, leaving the parchment blank.

“I hope you realise I’m keeping this,” said Hari with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

George laughed and patted Hari on the back. “Believe me, Hari. Your need is greater than ours.”

“Besides, you’re already breaking loads of rules as well,” added Fred.

“They grow up so fast, don’t they, Freddie?” said George, clutching his chest. “It’s as if it was just yesterday you were a scrawny 9 year old introducing us to the kitchens and climbing on the roof of the Herbology greenhouses.”

Hari snorted at the memory. “Thanks for the help,” Hari said as George and Fred made their way out of Hari’s dormitory.

“No problem!”

“Anything for a fellow rule-breaker.”

Hari watched them leave and looked down at the parchment. He tapped his wand in the middle and said confidently, “I solemnly swear that I am up to no good.”

¤¤¤

On Saturday morning, Hari was finally able to join the rest of his peers in visiting the village of Hogsmeade. Dressed in thick scarves, jumpers and hats, they made their way down the path towards Hogsmeade village, laughing and joking and trying to decide where to go first. They decided to venture through the village with their Slytherin friends, Blaise, Millicent and Pansy as well, piling together inside the cramped Honeyduke’s Sweet Shop.

Hari wandered the colourful aisles with Pansy, who wanted to show Hari the new fudge selection, letting the others go off in their own directions.

“Which one do you think Draco would prefer? I’m trying to decide what to get for Yule,” asked Pansy, gripping his arm tight and pointing over the vast selection of fudges. “I know he has a sweet tooth.”

“Hmm, that mint one sounds like something he’d maybe like… As does the chocolate and vanilla swirl one.” Hari pointed to the individual fudge.

“Ooh, the chocolate and vanilla one sounds good. I could steal bits from him as well,” said Pansy excitedly, grabbing a paper bag from the side and using the metal tongs to drop bits of fudge inside.

Meanwhile, Draco was laughing at Dean and Seamus, getting pelted by the floating sherbert balls. Draco was trying to catch them with his bag, guffawing as he missed and sugar went flying everywhere, getting in their hair. Seamus swore loudly, ducking beneath one of the balls and almost knocking over the barrel full of Every Flavour Beans. This caused both Dean and Draco to laugh at Seamus, who ended up on the ground, giving them both the middle finger.

Hari and Pansy finished selecting treats for their friends’ gifts and were just trying to find Millicent and Blaise, who seemed to disappear almost immediately, when they found Hermione and Ron standing by the sign labelled ‘Unusual Tastes.’

“No, Hari won’t want that. They’re for vampires, see? They’re made of blood,” Hermione was saying as Ron held up a blood lollypop.

“What about a cockroach cluster, then?” suggested Ron, picking up the jar.

“Definitely not,” said Hari, making them both jump about a foot in the air and Ron almost dropped the jar on the ground.

“Hari! Don’t do that!” Hermione whined, hitting Hari in the arm as he and Pansy laughed.

“You haven’t seen Millicent or Blaise, have you?” asked Pansy.

“Not recently, no,” said Hermione, shaking her head.

“I think I saw them leaving the store a few minutes ago,” said Ron.

After filling their bags with treats, they moved over to Zonko’s Joke Shop in their search for Millicent and Blaise. Instead, they found George, Fred and Lee, huddled around a display of fireworks. Fred and George both winked at Harry as he passed them. They continued around the shop, grabbing knicknacks off the shelf and laughing at the various practical jokes on display.

They finally found Blaise and Millicent a little while later in an alleyway. Much to everyone’s amusement, Blaise seemed to finally have gotten to Millicent and was kissing her quite fiercely against the brick wall. Pansy shrieked at the sight, making them both jump apart, swearing at Pansy in annoyance.

“Come on, let’s get to the Three Broomsticks. It’s freezing out here,” said Draco as Pansy dragged Blaise and Millicent back down the alleyway, still laughing her head off. Once Pansy stopped screaming with laughter, almost in tears, they pushed their way inside the crowded, warm bar.

“I’ll get the drinks,” said Ron, cheeks pink.

“I’ll join you,” said Blaise, grinning much to Millicent’s annoyance. Ignoring her, Ron and Blaise pushed their way through the bar as the others looked around to find a large enough table for 7 people and their shopping bags.

The only big enough table was in the farthest corner of the room, next to a hulking evergreen tree covered in twinkling candles. Hari settled himself in the corner between Draco and Pansy, listening to Millicent complaining about Blaise.

“I mean, we all know all the boys fancy Madam Rosmerta,” Millicent was saying as she pulled off her knitted gloves and shook the snow out of her long dark hair.

Ron and Blaise returned a few minutes later, carrying 7 cups of steaming hot tankards of butterbeer between them. They passed them out to the table and then Ron sat down beside Hermione and Blaise sat beside Millicent, who smiled slightly as a result. They all clinked their glasses together over the table, saying, “Happy Holidays!”

Hari drank his butterbeer deeply. Just as he remembered, it was sweet and delicious and warmed him right up from inside out. He sighed happily, licking the foam from his upper lip. Draco was having an equally great time with his own, shutting his eyes as he drank almost half the tankard in one go.

Millicent was just commenting that Draco looked like he was getting blown (both Hari and Draco choked on their drinks) when a cold breeze filled the pub as Professors McGonagall, Flitwick and Hagrid entered the pub together, followed by… the Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge. Not wanting to talk to Fudge again, Hari panicked and shoved his head in the tree.

The four adults took the table on the opposite side of the tree and ordered their drinks from Madam Rosmerta. Hari removed his head from the tree but he and the rest of his table stayed silent, trying to eavesdrop on the adults’ conversation.

“So, what brings you to this neck of the woods, Minister?” asked Madam Rosmerta’s voice.

“What else, m’dear Rosmerta, but Sirius Black? I daresay you know about Halloween?”

“I did hear a rumour.”

“You told the whole bloody pub, didn’t you, Hagrid?” said Minerva sharply.

Rosmerta complained to the Minister about the dementors ruining her business with their presence, but Fudge merely dismissed her, saying it was a ‘necessary evil.’ Hari rolled his eyes. As if almost falling to his death was ‘necessary.’ Minerva pointed out the dangers of the dementors being on the grounds and by the looks on his friend’s faces, they agreed.

“You know what he’s capable of…” said the Minister stubbornly.

“I still find it hard to believe,” said Madam Rosmerta. “I can remember Sirius coming here when he was at Hogwarts. Couldn’t have met a more charming boy. If you told me then what he’s capable of now, I’d send you to the Janus Thickey ward.”

“You don’t know the half of it, Rosmerta,” said Fudge. “The worst isn’t well known.”

“Worse than murdering 13 people?”

“You say you remember him at Hogwarts, Rosmerta,” said Minerva seriously. “Do you remember his best friend?” Hari felt his heart rate pick up.

“Of course,” said Madam Rosmerta with a laugh. “Never saw them apart! A double act, Sirius Black and James Potter were.”

Hari dropped his tankard onto the table, drenching the table in the sticky liquid. He knew that they were friends but best friends?

“Exactly,” said Minerva. “Ringleaders of their little gang. Both exceptionally intelligent, but the two biggest troublemakers I’ve ever known.”

“I dunno. I’d say Fred and George Weasley could beat ‘em,” said Hagrid, chuckling. Ron smirked.

“Potter trusted Black beyond all his other friends,” said Fudge. “Black was his best man at James and Lily’s wedding. Then they made him godfather to Hari. He doesn’t know of course, the idea would torment him.”

“Because he was in league with You-Know-Who?” asked Madam Rosmerta.

“Worse, actually,” said Fudge grimly, dropping his voice so that the others had to lean in to hear. “Not many people know this, but when the Potters went into hiding because You-Know-Who was after Hari, they made Black their Secret Keeper under the Fidelius Charm.”

When Madam Rosmerta asked how that worked, Flitwick explained the complex charm that would have meant that only Sirius Black would have been able to even mention the whereabouts of the Potters’ hiding spot.

“James told Dumbledore that Black would die before betraying the Potters. Dumbledore, naturally, didn’t trust him. They suspected there was a spy among those closest to them, divulging information to You-Know-Who,” explained Minerva. “But Potter insisted on Black.”

“But then, barely a week after they performed the Fidelius Charm…”

“Black betrayed them?” breathed Madam Rosmerta.

“He did indeed. He had hoped it would get him as You-Know-Who’s second in command, but as we all know, the Dark Lord met his demise to little Hari Potter. Black fled, of course, his master having fallen to his doom—”

Hagrid made an angry outburst about having comforted Sirius Black when he came to collect Hari. Minerva was frantically trying to calm him down, to keep him from shouting to the whole pub about their ‘private’ conversation.

“‘Give Hari to me’ he said. ‘I’m his godfather, I’ll look after him!’” Hagrid cried, “But I took Dumbledore’s orders to heart, knew I’d need to give Hari to his aunt and uncle. Course, he ended up with McGonagall years later, but I reckon if I listened to Black, he’d have just finished Hari off! His own best friend’s son!”

“But the Ministry found him the next day!” said Madam Rosmerta when Hagrid was reduced to tears, unable to talk any longer.

“Alas, I wish. It was actually little Peter Pettigrew that found him,” said Fudge with resentment. “He tried to confront him in the street.”

“Pettigrew… the little one that tagged along with them at Hogwarts?”

“The very same,” said Minerva. “Hero worshiped Black and James. Never quite in their league. I regret how harsh I was with him…” Her voice trailed off and Hari heard the sound of her blowing her nose.

“There, now, Minerva. He died a hero’s death,” said Fudge. “When he confronted Black in the street, the spell Black used blew him to smithereens. All that was left of Pettigrew was a finger.”

“If I found him, I wouldn’t have bothered with magic. I’d’ve ripped him limb from limb,” growled Hagrid.

“He would have blown you to bits as well, Hagrid,” said Fudge. “I was working as Junior Minister in the Department of Magical Catastrophes at the time and was one of the first on the scene. Never seen anything like it. There was a massive crater in the street and you know, Black just laughed and let us take him away without even fighting back. Bodies everywhere. Muggles screaming. I had to send the finger to Pettigrew’s family in a box.”

“So, is it true? Is it true he’s mad, Minister?” asked Madam Rosmerta shakily.

“I wish he was. I visited him in Azkaban shortly before he escaped,” said Fudge. “He almost seemed normal. The dementors seemed to have almost no effect on him. He asked me if he could have the Daily Prophet I had with me and wanted to do the crossword. Astounded me. He was one of the most heavily guarded there.”

The five adults finished their conversation grimly, wondering whether Sirius Black would try to find Voldemort. Then, they made their way slowly out of the pub once more, bracing the cold air outside once more.

“Hari?”

Everyone was staring at Hari, at a loss for words. Hari was breathing heavily and hadn’t even noticed that he dug his nails so deep into the palm of his hand that there were deep, bloody crescent marks. Then, Hari stumbled around the table and ran out of the pub.