siriusblk_mod (siriusblk_mod) wrote in sirius_blk, @ 2013-10-15 13:49:00 |
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Current mood: | good |
Entry tags: | character: fred, character: george, character: hermione, character: remus, character: ron, fest 2013, fic, pairing: gen, rating: pg |
Sirius Black Fest 2013: Fic: Mischief Managed
Title: Mischief Managed
Author: Currently behind The Veil
Pairing(s)/Character(s): Sirius, Harry, Fred & George, Hermione, Ron, Remus.
Rating: PG
Prompt #: #120
Word count:~6900
Summary: Sirius dies only a few months into his stay in Azkaban, back in 1982. So why is it that there’s a dot on the Marauder’s Map that says ‘Padfoot?’
Warnings: Highlight to read *Character death, but not in a bad way*
Disclaimer: I do but play, y’all. JKR, all hail.
A/N: I really had a lot of fun writing this! I love Sirius, but the opportunity to write him … post-mortem, so to speak, has never before presented itself. It was going to be a bit more humorous at the outset, but then this happened, so I hope it works for you all!
1982
The wind outside howled.
The man inside pulled the tattered remnants of his prison uniform around his thin limbs. The cold was beyond numbing; he hadn’t eaten since the day before yesterday, and even that was a watery porridge that might better have been served to clean his latrine.
He heard one of the guards stomping down the hall, keys rattling, whistling an empty tune.
The man shivered, lying back on his bed. This particular guard and he … well, they didn’t see particularly eye to eye on what should be considered humane treatment. Hearing the man growing closer, he looked around once, then twice. Giving a short bark of a laugh, he exclaimed, “Well. Sod this, then.”
When the guard arrived to open the door, he found Sirius Black dead on his cot, a devilish grin on his face.
***
1993
“Guys, wait! What the—what do you think you’re doing?! I’m trying to get to Hogsmeade!” Harry said, struggling invisibly against Fred and George Weasley.
“Shut up,” Fred said jovially.
“We know, Harry,” George agreed.
“Then what’s all this, then?” Harry said, exasperatedly pulling off the Invisibility Cloak and glaring at the twins.
“We’re trying—”
“—to help you, mate.”
“If you’d stay still, that is,” Fred finished.
“Here,” George said, handing Harry an old parchment.
“What’s this rubbish?” Harry said, looking down in confusion at the bit of parchment.
“What’s this rubbish, he says,” Fred chuckled.
“Our Harry wouldn’t know gold from goblins, would he?” George commiserated.
“Well?” Harry asked indignantly.
“That there—”
“—is the key to your future, my boy.”
“At least, it’s the key—”
“—to getting into Hogsmeade without your form signed,” George said.
“What? How?” Harry said, a spark of interest lighting his eyes.
“Ah, Harry,” Fred continued. “You simply point your wand at it and say, ‘I solemnly swear that I am up to no good.’ The map will show you everything you need to know.”
“Like, for example, how we’re right next to a secret passage that will take you, Harry, right into Hogsmeade in about five minutes,” George said, pointing.
“And when you’re done,” Fred said, “you simply say, ‘Mischief managed.’ Then it just becomes, as you so eloquently put it, a bit of rubbish.”
“Mind you don’t lose it, though,” George cautioned. “It’s invaluable, that.”
“We owe it so much,” Fred said, a dreamy look on his face.
“It does have its quirks, though, Harry,” George said a bit sternly.
“It’s acted up a bit this year, come to think of it,” Fred continued. “Haven’t quite figured it out, but maybe you will.”
“Like what?” Harry asked dubiously, turning the parchment over in its hands.
“Nothing much, only that sometimes there seems to be some motion on the map, but no one’s there. And there’s no name,” George said.
“And lately, it’s begun moving a bit. I think it’s twitchy. Might need some fresh air,” Fred suggested. “We’ve had the thing memorized for so long that maybe it needs new blood, stretch its little parchment legs, and so forth.”
“So, Harry, we pass it on to you, knowing full well you’ll make us proud.”
“Right?” the twins asked in unison.
“Oh, you have no idea,” Harry murmured, looking at the map with glee.
***
Later that night, Harry could hardly wait to race off to his room after dinner, throw the curtains shut, and whip out the Map. Casting a Muffling Charm, he then whispered the words he was sure would change his life: “I solemnly swear that I am up to no good!”
Instantly, the map flared to life in whirls of aged ink. The parchment itself seemed to grow warmer under his hands; Harry suspected it was all the excitement.
Carefully lifting every fold, he spread the map out before him and gazed in wonder. Dumbledore was pacing in his office. Ron and Hermione were still in the Great Hall with a bunch of their friends, and Malfoy and his minions were walking back to the Slytherin dormitory. Harry laughed in delight. “Wicked,” he exclaimed softly.
Just then, the left flap of the map twitched. “What the—” Harry said, carefully lifting the flap with a finger and snatching his hand back when the fold curled around it. When he withdrew his hand, he could have sworn the parchment … wilted, a bit.
Tentatively, Harry reached out his hand again and stroked the flap, eyes widening when he realized the parchment enjoyed it. In fact, it was practically smiling, its top folds flattening back and the bottom curling up just a bit.
Well, stranger things had happened, especially with those textbooks in Hagrid’s class, Harry thought to himself, so he absentmindedly petted the parchment’s folds for the rest of the evening while he perused its contents.
***
The next day, Harry shoved the parchment into his rucksack and headed off to class. Truth be told, he wasn’t quite sure why he was taking it with him, seeing as how he’d never use it in front of anyone except Ron and Hermione, but he just didn’t feel comfortable leaving it behind. The way the parchment had seemed like it needed to be petted—well, it just felt sentient, so it felt kind of like Harry was leaving behind a pet, or maybe even a friend.
The map was a bit of a distraction, though. Harry kept feeling drawn to it during class, and while he could ignore it readily enough in Potions, he couldn’t help sneaking it out during Defense Against the Dark Arts. He sat in the back of the room, and they were working on an essay anyway, so it’s not like Professor Lupin could really see if Harry just snuck a look at what everyone was doing …
Harry tucked the map under his class parchment, hushing it as it rustled obnoxiously. Under the corner of his assignment, he could just make out Professor Snape’s footprints pacing around in the Potions classroom. The map twitched, flicking one of its corners at the tiny footprints. Harry got the feeling that the map didn’t care much for Professor Snape. Smirking a bit, Harry stroked the map and it settled down, lying flat again underneath his schoolwork.
“Now, class, before you leave today,” Professor Lupin began to instruct the students.
When Lupin began to speak, the map started to quiver, shaking so hard that Harry couldn’t hear a single word. “Shhh,” Harry shushed the map desperately, trying to get it to stop its papery racket, but to no avail.
“Is everything alright, Harry?” Professor Lupin asked mildly, walking toward the back of the room.
“Uh, yes, sir,” Harry said hastily, smoothing his hands across his work to hide the map underneath. Looking up at his professor, he smiled widely, hoping that he wouldn’t notice that his work was squirming.
Professor Lupin narrowed his eyes but walked away, reminding the class of their homework assignments.
As Harry shoved the map back into his bag, he could have sworn he heard the paper blow Professor Lupin a raspberry.
***
Over the course of the next few days, Harry tried to leave the map behind when he went to class, but somehow it always ended up in his rucksack. He would pull out his classwork or his textbook, or go rooting around for a new quill, only to find the map rustling and shoving itself into his hand. It was getting harder and harder to keep it a secret, but since he had already told Ron and Hermione, they were able to help him cover up the map’s odd behavior.
It only seemed to act up in Defense Against the Dark Arts, though. The map remained inert in every other class, though Harry could have sworn that he saw it lift up its folds and give Professor Snape the two-fingered salute. But in Professor Lupin’s class, the map positively shivered. Harry didn’t know if the map really was capable of sentient thought, but it certainly seemed … excited. Or afraid.
“George,” Harry said slowly at lunch one day, “where’d you get the map, anyway?”
“Nicked it from Filch,” George said matter-of-factly.
Harry coughed, swallowing a bit of pumpkin juice the wrong way. “Wait, so you stole it? You don’t know where it came from originally?”
“Not a clue,” Fred said with a smile. “Why?”
“Well, how do you know it isn’t some sort of … Dark artifact?” Harry whispered, trying not to let anyone else overhear.
“As much as that map has helped us out?” Fred asked incredulously.
“Not a chance,” George said emphatically.
“Yeah, but how do you know?” Harry asked, a touch of worry in his voice.
Fred and George looked at each other, and then shrugged in tandem. “Guess we don’t, mate,” Fred continued.
Harry nodded his thanks and returned to his lunch, lost in thought. Maybe the map was afraid of Lupin, because it somehow knew he taught Defense Against the Dark Arts? But if that was the case, why did it seem to dislike Professor Snape so much? Anyone—er, anything—who flipped off that git couldn’t be all bad, right?
After lunch, Harry raced back to his dormitory, claiming to have left behind his homework. He had a theory he wanted to try. Pulling the map out of its bag, he quietly spoke the incantation that would activate it, and then spread it out across his bed, eyes hastily scanning the document for the footprints he needed.
There. “Okay, map, there he is. Professor Snape. You don’t like him much, do you?” Harry asked the map, feeling a bit sheepish.
The map curled up its edges and shook back and forth, a perfect imitation of someone snarling and vehemently shaking their head ‘No.’
All right. So far so good. “And here’s Professor Lupin, over here. He seems like an okay bloke. What do you think, er, map?”
Lupin’s footprints strode around in his classroom near a corner of the map. The map shuddered, and slowly one fold reached over to stroke the tiny moving dots.
Harry exhaled, feeling relieved. “Okay, so you … you like him? He’s okay, then?”
The map shivered again and wiggled its topmost part up and down, seeming to signify ‘Yes.’
Well, that settled it. If the map liked Lupin, and he taught Defense, then the map just couldn’t be a dark object. That wouldn’t make any sense. Smiling, Harry patted the map fondly, then threw it in his bag. He was late for Charms.
***
Over the next few days, Harry noticed that the map seemed to be gaining … strength, or confidence, or something. It was enough that Harry was afraid to leave it unattended, even locked in his trunk back in the dorm. But taking it to classes with him also had its own risks.
In Potions, he didn’t dare take the map out. He was mostly afraid it would get ruined by a spilled potion or by some of the caustic ingredients they used, but now he was also slightly worried that the map’s antics would draw Professor Snape’s attention. Even over the din of the classroom, Harry thought he could hear the map rustling about in his bag, struggling to get out, and on a few occasions when Snape passed too closely by his station, Harry resorted to kicking the bag. Fortunately, the map seemed to get the hint and would quiet down when Snape was close by enough to hear it.
In his other classes, the map was largely still, maybe rustling softly a bit as one of the professors walked by, but when Harry would reach into his bag and pet it softly, the map quieted, leaning into Harry’s touch like a dog would respond to a good scratch behind the ears. But in Professor Lupin’s class, the map became more and more active, struggling to get out of Harry’s bag. Harry tried tucking the map into his lap so that he could pet it and try to calm it down, but to no avail. Finally he ended up tucking it under his class parchment again, since at least then he could practically lie on it and get it to be still.
“Harry, can’t you quiet that thing down?” Ron asked, eyes flickering back and forth nervously between the map and Professor Lupin.
“I don’t know how,” Harry hissed back anxiously.
“Maybe you need to leave it in your trunk,” Hermione said worriedly. “Or maybe you should show it to Professor Lupin and just make sure that it isn’t dangerous.”
Harry sighed and nodded. Maybe it was time to try locking it up, after all.
As though the map could read his mind, it jerked out of Harry’s hands and skated out from underneath his class notes. Harry lunged to the side and managed to grab it by a corner as it tried to slide across the floor towards Lupin.
“Harry, are you sure everything is alright back there?” Professor Lupin asked, a note of curiosity in his voice.
Harry wrestled the map into its original folded form and shoved it back in his bag, jumping back onto his stool. “Yeah,” he said breathlessly. “I mean, yes, sir. Fine.”
Lupin’s eyes slid down to Harry’s bag, gazing at it for a minute in speculation, before looking back up at Harry. “I’d like to see you for a minute after class, Harry,” he said mildly before returning to the front of the classroom.
Harry’s eyes closed and he moaned silently. “Why can’t you just be quiet?” he whispered halfheartedly to his bag.
“Harry, show him the map,” Hermione urged.
“Yeah, mate, it’s just going to keep acting up,” Ron said.
“Maybe,” Harry said doubtfully. “Go on without me; I’ll catch up in a minute.”
“Good luck,” Ron whispered, clapping Harry on the back.
As the rest of the students trickled out of the classroom, Harry packed away the rest of his things and, purposefully leaving his bag at his desk, made his way to the front of the class.
“Harry, is everything alright? You’re not normally the one I expect to disrupt class,” Professor Lupin said, leaning against his desk and crossing his arms.
“Yes sir,” Harry said quickly.
“Are you sure? You looked like you were having trouble with some of your school supplies,” Lupin continued.
“Oh. Um, no, it was … just a bad bit of parchment,” Harry improvised. “Something Fred and George gave me.”
“Ah, I see,” Lupin said with a smile. “One of their new prank products, I assume?”
“Yeah,” Harry said, relieved. He seemed to be buying it, and it wasn’t so far off from the truth that Harry felt guilty for lying to one of his favorite professors.
“Well,” Professor Lupin said, straightening up. “Do us all a favor, and leave the pranks out of the classroom from now on? I’m quite sure Hermione would like to be able to concentrate.”
“Yes, sir,” Harry said gratefully, walking away to collect his bag.
“And Harry,” Lupin called. “If you need to talk, or to tell me anything, you know I’m here, right?”
“Yes, sir,” Harry said with a smile. “Thanks.”
As he walked out of the door, bag clutched in front of him, he saw a corner of the map slide out from under the flap, almost as though it were reaching out for Professor Lupin.
***
A week went by with hardly an incident. Harry had taken to locking the map up in his trunk during the day, and Hermione had helped him come up with a few Charms he could place on the trunk to make sure no one would be able to open it without him there.
At night, though, Harry would pull the map out of his trunk and spend some time with it. He had come to think of it rather like a pet; it seemed to respond to Harry’s touch, curling up next to his leg or his arm and reaching out a corner to nudge Harry’s hand if he went too long without petting it.
Term was getting harder, and Hermione, Ron, and Harry spent the majority of their free time studying for winter exams.
One evening, Harry was working on an essay for Transfiguration when he noticed something unusual on the map.
“Hermione, Ron, look,” Harry said, leaning over the map. “Do you see that?”
“What?” Ron said, putting down his quill happily.
“That glowing dot,” Harry said, pointing a finger. “That wasn’t there before.”
“I wonder what it is,” Hermione mused.
The map nudged Harry’s hand, causing his finger to bump against the glowing mark. When Harry’s finger made contact, the map quivered and the topmost folds nodded, seeming to signify that Harry needed to go to that spot.
“Right,” Harry said. “Time to go.”
“Harry, no, wait,” Hermione said. “What about your essay?”
“It’s a Friday, Hermione,” Ron said, rolling his eyes. “Let’s go.”
“I’ll get the cloak,” Harry said, leaping up and dashing off to his trunk.
“You two had better be careful,” Hermione said, shaking her head.
Tucking the cloak around both Ron and himself, Harry led them toward the glowing dot on the map. He and Ron ducked into a side hallway that was hardly used, narrowly avoiding Filch’s cat, and walked slowly toward a dusty suit of armor.
“Well, this is the spot,” Harry said. Looking about, he couldn’t see a single thing that seemed exciting or out of place.
“Are you sure?” Ron whispered, his eyes trailing down the hallway and back.
“Yeah, this is where the map—hang on,” Harry said. Looking more closely at the map, he saw that the dot had shrunk. While they were still in the right spot, the dot had swirled around the two sets of footprints marked ‘Potter’ and ‘Weasley’ and slipped … inside? behind? the suit of armor.
“I think there’s something hidden here,” Harry whispered.
“In the armor?” Ron asked. “Is anyone coming?”
Harry looked around. “No, I don’t see anyone, and no one’s near us on the map, either.”
“Okay,” Ron said. “Let me see, then.” Slipping out from under the cloak, he felt around the back of the armored man. Finding nothing, he then examined the front.
“Try inside, then,” Harry suggested.
Ron nodded and sucked in a breath. Lifting the helmet’s visor slowly, trying to avoid squeaks, he looked inside. “Something’s there, Harry,” Ron whispered excitedly. Reaching in, he pulled out a small velvet sack.
“Someone’s coming! Quick!” Harry hissed, lifting a corner of the cloak. Ron dashed under and settled the fabric around himself, making sure both of their feet were covered.
Just then, Professor Lupin stepped into the hallway, apparently doing his nightly rounds. Harry and Ron both held their breath and pressed themselves tightly against the wall, hoping he would pass them by without noticing anything was amiss. For a moment, it seemed that he would do exactly that, but as he approached the suit of armor, he stopped, his eyebrows drawing together. The visor was still propped up, gaping open at him in a parody of a smile.
“Please keep going,” Harry thought silently to himself, but to no avail.
“What the—” Professor Lupin muttered to himself. Looking up and down the hallway, he made sure he was alone, and then peered into the open helmet. “Who would have known to look here?”
He stood there for the better part of a minute, too dumbfounded to notice that there were two third-year boys right next to him, trying hard not to breathe too loudly. Then he shook his head.
“Ah, Padfoot,” he said wistfully. “If only …” Reaching out, he closed the visor gently, then continued on his rounds.
Ron and Harry both sighed with relief the second he turned the corner, then raced back to the Common Room.
“Where have you been?” Hermione shrilled.
“We found something!” Ron said excitedly.
“Yeah,” Harry said, panting, “but then Professor Lupin almost found us, and we had to wait him out.”
“Just be careful,” Hermione cautioned. “But what did you find?”
“I dunno, something in a sack,” Ron said. “We didn’t have time to look at it there.”
“Well, let’s see it, then,” Hermione said.
Fishing the sack out of his robes, Ron placed it on the table in front of them. Harry untied the string at the top and slid the velvet fabric down.
“Whoa,” Harry said, a smile cracking his face. “A giant bottle of Ogden’s?”
“Nice,” Ron beamed.
Hermione just shook her head. “The map told you how to find a bottle of Firewhisky inside a suit of armor? How long has it been there? And how did the map know?”
“Dunno,” Ron said, “but Professor Lupin seemed to know that it was a hiding place.”
“Yeah, he whispered something. Padfoot?” Harry asked. “Not sure. I was trying too hard not to breathe.”
“Well, maybe it’s from Lupin’s time, then,” Hermione said doubtfully. “But I don’t think you should drink it. You don’t know whether it’s safe, or what this map is up to. I still think you should let Professor Lupin see it, Harry.”
“I know,” Harry said. “I think that’s what the map wants, too.”
***
Despite Hermione’s caution, Harry kept putting off showing the map to Lupin. Leaving the map in his trunk during classes had helped Harry to settle down and focus more on his studies. Professor Lupin no longer looked askance at him in class, nor did the map try to knock ingredients over on Professor Snape in Potions, so Harry had almost forgotten about how the map had reacted around them. It had also grown increasingly active when Harry returned to the dormitory after class, butting its folds into Harry’s hands as though desperate for contact and acting particularly twitchy if Harry neglected it for too long. It was rather sweet, really, almost like having a pet that he didn’t need to feed.
And, of course, the map led Harry on the occasional adventure. In addition to the bottle of Firewhisky carefully ensconced in Harry’s trunk, the map showed him another passage to Hogsmeade that even Fred and George hadn’t known about, a stash of adult magazines hidden in a forgotten alcove, and a peephole carefully bored under the Quidditch stands, ostensibly for looking underneath robes without being caught. The map was fun, and mischievous, but no harm had come to Harry and his friends yet, so it was all too easy to put thoughts of danger out of his mind and continue on as usual.
It had been a while since the map had lit up, so when Harry, Ron, and Hermione were sitting around one night and they saw the soft glow emanating from the parchment, they startled.
“Wicked,” Ron said. “What’s it doing this time?”
The parchment began to tremble violently, the glow becoming a harsh shade of red.
“Whoa,” Harry said. “It’s never done that before.”
“Hold it still, Harry, I can’t read it,” Hermione instructed. Spreading her hands next to Harry’s, they flattened the old parchment.
“Huh. Who’s … Pettigrew?” Harry asked, watching as the red dot followed around a tiny set of footprints.
“I don’t know any student by that name,” Hermione mused.
“It sounds familiar,” Ron said, shaking his head. “I can’t remember why, though.”
The parchment lurched, the red dot growing darker.
“Harry, it looks angry,” Ron said, looking up at the others worriedly. “Maybe Hermione’s right, maybe you should take it to Lupin after all.”
“Yeah, I think you’re right,” Harry said softly. “Okay, parchment, let’s go.”
Folding up the parchment, he grabbed his cloak and took off down the hall. It was late, long past curfew, but there was no way he could go to sleep with the parchment making this much of a racket in his trunk. And he had come to think of the map as … well, as a kind of friend, he guessed, and it seemed upset about something. Maybe Lupin could help put it to rights.
Raising his hand, he knocked on Professor Lupin’s door.
“Yes?” Lupin asked as he opened the door. Finding no one there, his eyes narrowed as he gazed around the hallway. “Is someone there?”
Underneath the Invisibility Cloak, the map blew Lupin a raspberry.
“If this is some sort of joke,” Lupin said, fingers tightening around his wand, “I’d highly advise returning to your dormitory before you’re caught. Breaking curfew is ill-advised these days.”
“It’s just me, Professor,” Harry said softly, not wanting to startle the normally gentle professor. “It’s Harry.”
Lupin’s eyes widened. “Where are you?”
Harry slid the cloak off of his head, revealing himself in the hallway.
“Quick, Harry, in my office before anyone sees you,” Lupin said tersely.
Once they were safely inside and the door was shut, Lupin whirled on him. “You have the cloak.” It was a statement, not a question.
Harry gulped and nodded. “Yeah. I mean, yes, sir. Someone gave it to me my first year. I think it was my father’s. You—you know about it?”
Lupin looked closely at him. “Yes, Harry, I know about it. We’ve not talked much this year about … personal matters, but I was a very dear friend of your parents. We had many an adventure with that cloak, but I had hardly suspected … I never would have guessed that it would have survived,” he said, his voice trailing off.
“But that is a different conversation entirely,” he said, voice sharpening as he straightened. “I suspect it is not the reason why you are here, so why, indeed, are you here?”
Harry sighed. “Well, you see, sir, I have something in my possession. And lately, it’s been acting … odd. And I just wondered …”
“You left your dormitory well after curfew to come all the way to my office to report something … odd,” Lupin said, voice gentle. “Why is it that I think Miss Granger had something to do with this sudden flare of responsibility?”
“She thought I should have done it a long time ago,” Harry muttered.
“Then I’m sure she was probably right,” Lupin said. “You should know by now that things in the magical world can look quite tame or friendly but contain great danger, even evil, Harry. I would have thought you, of all people, would understand that.”
Harry dropped his eyes, faintly flushing. “I know. I should have done it earlier. But … it really only started acting really weirdly tonight.”
“Then let’s take a look, shall we? There’s no sense arguing over hypotheticals when we have the reality in front of us—I assume you brought this mysterious object with you?” Lupin asked.
Harry nodded. Pulling the wriggling map out of his back pocket, he handed it over without a word.
Lupin sucked in a deep breath. Reaching out his hand, he took the map from Harry. Without taking his eyes from it, he moved backward until his knees hit his chair, and he slid down into it. The second that his hand touched the map, it quivered in excitement before practically curling itself around the older man’s lean fingers.
“Merlin’s beard,” Lupin whispered almost reverently. “First the cloak, and now this … Harry, what have you done?”
Harry gaped. “I—I haven’t done anything,” he stuttered, confused.
Lupin didn’t answer. He ran a finger down the map’s creases, then whispered, “I solemnly swear that I am up to no good.”
Before Harry could ask how it was that Lupin knew the invocation, the map flung itself open, screaming silently. A dark red, pulsating glow emanated from a far-off corner of the dungeons.
“Well,” Lupin gulped. “I agree with you, Harry. This most definitely requires my attention.”
“It’s just, sir,” Harry said. “It’s never glowed red before. And none of us recognized that name, either.”
Lupin squinted, peering into the glow, then gasped. With a shudder, he pushed himself back from the desk and ran a trembling hand through his hair. “No,” he whispered. “No, no, no, it can’t be. It’s not possible!”
“Sorry,” Harry said softly, “what’s not possible?”
“That name,” Lupin stated harshly, “should not be there. Cannot be there!”
“Pettigrew?” Harry asked. “Why not? Who is he?”
“He’s dead,” Lupin ground out.
The map shook violently on the table, a small golden glow peeking out. Lupin moved closer, leaning over tentatively. His eyes widened again. “Is this some kind of a joke?” he asked Harry hoarsely. “If so, it is exceptionally cruel.”
Harry jolted forward to stare at the map. Underneath the golden dot was written the word “Padfoot.” Harry shook his head; the word meant nothing to him. “I don’t understand, Professor,” he whispered. “I’ve never seen that on the map before.”
Lupin took a few deep breaths, trying to calm himself. His hands gripped the table in front of him. “Harry, you need to start from the very beginning. Tell me everything about this map. How did you get it?” His tone brooked no opposition.
Harry exhaled. “Fred and George gave it to me. Said they nicked it from Filch’s office a few years back. It’s how they got so good at their pranks,” he started.
Lupin nodded. “Go on,” he said.
“I was upset at not being able to go to Hogsmeade. No one would sign my form,” Harry said bitterly. “So they said if I used the map, I could get to go with everyone else. And it worked. Brilliantly, actually. But then the map started … I dunno, acting up, I guess.”
“How so?” Lupin asked.
“It started acting like a pet, or something. I dunno. It liked to be touched,” Harry struggled for the right words. “It seemed to like when I petted it. It was like a dog, just wanting a scratch behind the ears.”
He paused when Lupin hissed, sucking in a breath between clenched teeth. “I mean, it was nice. It was like having a pet. But it was hard to bring it with me everywhere. It was causing trouble.”
“All those times things were going oddly in class, that was the map, then,” Lupin stated.
“Yes, sir,” Harry said. “It kept trying to knock things over in Potions. But it wasn’t like it was trying to get me in trouble—it was more like it was trying to do something to Professor Snape. I don’t think the map likes him very much.”
A small smile tweaked the corner of Lupin’s mouth, but he nodded, signalling Harry to continue.
“But in your class, the map just kept trying to get away. It was like it was trying to get closer to you or something. But I wasn’t sure if that was a good idea, so I didn’t mention it,” Harry finished softly, understanding how lame his words were.
Lupin glanced away, blinking his eyes for a moment. Then his gaze became firm as he looked back at Harry.
“So it was you, then, by the suit of armor?” he asked.
Harry nodded, gulping.
“And what, may I ask, did you find?” Lupin queried.
“A—an old bottle of Firewhisky,” Harry answered. “I didn’t drink it, I just put it in my trunk.”
Lupin grinned. “Padfoot, you dog …” he whispered to himself. “Anything else?” he asked Harry more loudly.
“Well, it showed me a few new things around Hogwarts,” Harry said. “But mostly it just wanted to be petted. It seems to like the affection.”
Lupin sighed, bowing his head. “But it just isn’t possible … I don’t understand. Why, Padfoot?”
“Sir,” Harry asked tentatively. “Who is Padfoot?”
Lupin glanced up at him, then sighed. “You’re old enough, Harry, I think. Has no one ever told you about your family?”
Harry shook his head. “Not much, sir.”
“Sit down, then,” Lupin said, gesturing to his couch and Summoning a pot of tea and some biscuits.
“The long and the short of it, Harry, is that your parents and I were very close when we went to Hogwarts together,” Lupin said, choosing his words carefully. “We also had two other friends.”
“Pettigrew?” Harry asked.
Lupin nodded. “And another chap by the name of Sirius Black.”
Harry’s brow furrowed. He’d never heard the name before.
“Your parents—well, your dad in particular was very close to Black,” Lupin continued. “He was your godfather.”
Harry’s eyes widened. He’d never even wondered whether he had had one before. “Whoa,” he whispered to himself.
“But you see, Harry, as you know, this was a time in which Voldemort was coming to power. Your parents had to hide the three of you from him, and they chose Black to keep their secret,” Lupin explained, trying to keep the story digestible. “But he betrayed them. Sold them out to Voldemort, and ended up killing Peter—Pettigrew,” he clarified.
“But why?” Harry asked angrily.
“No one knows, Harry,” Lupin said wearily. “He was captured and put into Azkaban. He died there a few months later.”
Harry exhaled, not sure whether to be relieved or sad. “But then—how come the map shows footprints that say Pettigrew?” he asked.
“The map never lies,” Lupin said grimly. “I have no idea. It shouldn’t say Padfoot, either.”
“Why not?” Harry asked, confused.
“Because Padfoot and Black are the same person. The map is showing us two dead people, Harry,” Lupin said, rubbing his head with his hand.
***
Lupin spoke quickly. “Harry, I don’t understand this yet, so I am quite certain you do not either. But I shouldn’t have to tell you that you could be in grave danger. I need for you to use that cloak and return to your room as quickly as possible. I promise you, Harry, I am going to get to the bottom of this, but in order for me to do that, I need to know that you are safe. Do you understand?”
Harry nodded, disappointed.
“I promise you that I will tell you everything when I can, Harry, but for now, go. Go quickly,” Lupin urged.
After Harry left, Lupin sat at his desk, watching carefully until he saw that Harry’s footprints appeared in the Gryffindor common room next to Granger’s and Weasley’s. He exhaled softly. If Harry were safe, perhaps he could get to the bottom of this mystery. He had created this map, he knew its magic inside and out, and nothing like this had ever happened—or ever could. Something had profoundly changed.
The map shivered softly on the desk in front of him. When Lupin touched it cautiously with one finger, the map arched into his touch, almost purring. The golden glow grew stronger. Bending over the map, Lupin examined its location, then smiled grimly. “I see you, Padfoot, and I’m coming.” Gripping his wand, Lupin strode out of his office.
Making his way to the third floor, he paced in front of a blank wall, concentrating with all of his might. A mysterious door opened. Looking around cautiously, Lupin saw that he was alone and slipped inside, the door disappearing immediately.
In front of him was a room full of junk, the discarded remnants of generations of Hogwarts students. He stood there for a minute, overwhelmed by the amount of stuff in the room, and wondering how on earth he was going to find a dead man in it all.
“Psst,” a whisper came from under a desk off to the side. “Moony!”
Lupin’s head whipped around. It had been twelve years since anyone had called him that …
“Padfoot?” he whispered hoarsely.
The voice laughed. “Gods, Moony, it’s so good to hear your voice.”
Lupin clambered over piles of old books and manky robes. “Show yourself, you bastard!”
“I would if I could, mate,” Sirius said cryptically.
“Where are you, you devil?” Lupin yelled, whirling around in a circle. “By Merlin, you come out.”
“Sorry, Moony, you’re just going to have to follow my voice,” Sirius said. “You’re almost here, I think. This way.”
Lupin stumbled through old magazines and brushed aside a coat rack, finding himself finally face to face with an old desk covered in art supplies. He sucked in his breath as he looked at Lily’s old paintbrushes, her leftover canvases and pencils. “Good Godric,” he whispered, reaching out a finger reverently to touch a half-finished watercolor of the Great Lake.
“My eyes are down here, you know,” Sirius said impishly from under the desk.
Lupin steeled himself and fixed his wand on the darkened space. “Come out yourself,” he growled.
“Can’t do that, mate,” Sirius said. “You’ll have to haul me out myself. Watch out for the spiderwebs.”
Lupin whispered a quiet Lumos and pointed his wand under the desk. There he found a half-finished portrait of Sirius Black staring back at him.
“Long time no see, Moony,” Sirius said, his eyes twinkling.
Lupin howled, pulling the painting out from under the desk and putting it on one of the many easels scattered around. “Why, Padfoot?” he shouted hoarsely, pointing his wand at his erstwhile friend’s face. “Tell me! Why did you do it?”
Sirius sighed and looked downward. “So,” he said evenly. “You believed them, then.”
“Believed who?” Lupin yelled.
“You actually think I would have betrayed James and Lily? My own godson?” Sirius shouted back angrily. “You of all people should know better, Moony.”
“But they found you! They found you there, with all those people—all those people, Padfoot! And Peter, dead!” Lupin screamed in fury.
“And yet somehow, somehow, Remus, he’s here,” Sirius spat. “He’s here, isn’t he? I feel his disgusting feet on me, on the map. You know as well as I do, Moony, that map can’t lie! Peter’s alive!”
Lupin looked away, gasping for breath. “So he made it out alive, then! Your plan didn’t work!” he said, a little less confidently.
Sirius chuckled humorlessly. “If I had wanted him dead, Moony, you know as well as I do, he would have been dead. It wasn’t me. I wasn’t the traitor. Peter was.”
“But you were the Secret-Keeper,” Remus said. “How could—”
“We switched, Remus,” Sirius interjected grimly. “It was my idea. My worst, worst idea. I thought—I thought no one would ever suspect him, so if he had the secret, they’d be even safer than with one of us. But he’d already gone over to Voldemort.”
“And none of us knew …” Remus whispered, wand dropping. “Peter … betrayed them?” His voice broke.
“I’m so sorry, Remus,” Sirius whispered. “I’m so sorry. I’m sorry for trusting him. And I’m sorry for not killing him when I had the chance, but I just … couldn’t.”
“And I believed them,” Remus said. “Merlin, Pads, how can you ever forgive me for that? I didn’t want to, but all the evidence … and I was so angry … And you died, and I never even … Gods, Sirius, I’m sorry.”
Sirius laughed softly. “It was my choice, Remus. I could have sat there in that filthy hole for the rest of my natural life, if I had wanted. But when I knew I could get back here … it was an easy choice to make. Didn’t hurt a bit. And we can put this right,” he continued fervently. “Peter. He’s here in the castle. I can feel him. He’s after Harry, I just know it. We have to protect him. We have to stop Peter once and for all.”
“We can’t do it without involving Dumbledore,” Remus said.
“Fine!” Sirius said. “Anything. I don’t care. If I could lift a wand, I’d take him out myself, but dear Lils didn’t see fit to paint one in, so I’m afraid I’m only a tracking device. But take me to Dumbledore! I’ll explain everything.”
“He’s going to wonder how you … well, how you got here,” Remus said lamely. “As do I.”
Sirius laughed. “Remus, you daft git. You’re not the only one that made that map, you know. I helped.”
Remus chuckled. “I’m well aware of that, but that doesn’t really answer the question.”
“Well, I thought it’d be a nice little bit of fantastic if I could somehow spell a part of myself into the map. If anything ever happened to me, I could come back, do a bit of pranking. Better than being a ghost, because no one can see you,” Sirius explained. “I remembered how much Lily had loved to paint, how she had used the two of us as models because James would never sit still long enough and Peter was boring, and I remembered that those portraits were still sitting up here, all hidden away. You’re in here too, somewhere, you know. They’re not official magical portraits or anything, but I figured they’d suffice. If the map were at Hogwarts with the portrait, I could kind of … hop over, I guess.”
Lupin looked down and realized that since he had walked into the Room of Requirement, the map had actually gone completely inert.
“Well, well, Sirius,” he said. “You mean to tell me you were actually paying attention in Charms class?”
“Lucky for you,” Sirius crowed. “When you die, you get to spend eternity up here with me. I warn you, though, I don’t think Lily finished your face.”
“All the better to look at your ugly mug with,” Lupin laughed outright. “Merlin’s beard, Padfoot, it’s good to see you again.”
“Likewise, you old wolf,” Sirius said. “Now. Are we going to go put things right, or what?”
Remus smiled ferally. “Oh, absolutely. And when we’re done, I will personally introduce you to your godson. I think you two are going to get along splendidly.”
FIN