Chapter Ten: Moonlight Strolls Aplenty
Headmaster of Hogwarts, Albus Dumbledore sat behind his desk, a headache already forming in his temples. Thirteen years ago, when young Harry Potter died at the hands of Lord Voldemort, he knew that he had to find a new savior. This was necessary because he was certain Voldemort would be returning.
The only other boy the prophecy could have referred to was a boy that we all know was named Neville Longbottom. Dumbledore sent the child to his grandmother, knowing he wouldn't be coddled. He had set up obstacles in the boy's first year to test him.
Not only had the boy broken his wrist from falling off a broom, of all things, he was practically forced into solving the puzzle of the stone. Then, the next year the boy had shown his incompetence in almost every single class. Now, to add to Dumbledore's misery, the boy had left a slip of paper lying around for Black to find, because he was too imbecilic to remember the passwords. Dumbledore wouldn't have dared said any of this in front of anyone else, though. He had to keep up his old, dotty appearance after all.
The old man sighed, wondering if the Longbottom boy would ever become the warrior he needed.
BAD-DUMBY—MESSING-WITH-POOR-NEVILLE
Very quickly, Ron became a hero and Neville was in total disgrace. Ron relayed what he saw over and over again, dramatically to anyone would listen. Tighter security was set in place the very next day.
The next weekend, there was a Hogsmeade trip and Harish made sure to use this as another chance to spend more time with Daphne. The two of them went into most of the shops and enjoyed the other's presence immensely. While they were doing that, the twins were Zonko's looking at some Dungbombs. After a little while, Ron and Neville walked in and the three of them seemed to do their best at not noticing the other.
At the front desk, Ron and Neville were whispering to each other while they waited to purchase their selections. Fred and George, who were standing behind them, began to listen intently.
"Do you think that stuff we gave Hagrid is enough to get Buckbeak off?" Neville asked.
Ron nodded.
"I still think it's ridiculous he has to go on trial in the first place," their brother replied. "All because the hippogriff went a little wild in Hagrid's first class."
"Poor Hagrid is devastated, though," Neville mumbled.
"Devastated?" Ron question. "Mad, more like. I don't get why he's attached to the creature, anyway…"
The twins looked at each other guiltily. They had guessed pretty accurately that their brother had been talking about the hippogriff they had fed the energy sweet to. After they left, they found Harish. He and Daphne were sitting in a booth in the Three Broomsticks. Harish shot them an annoyed look and Daphne seemed mildly amused.
"What're you doing here?" Harish asked in a quiet voice.
"You know that sweet we fed to the hippogriff—"
"In our first class of the year?"
"How could I not?" Harish asked angrily. "I was sitting on that monster when it took off, flying in circles and loops."
"Well apparently the Committee of the Disposal of Dangerous Creatures got wind of it and are planning on executing the hippogriff, Buckbeak."
"There's going to be a trial first, though…"
"Really?" Harish asked. "Why are you telling me this?"
The twins shrugged and shook their heads.
"Just feeling guilty—"
"I guess."
Harish shook his head at them before shooing them off.
LEAVE-ME-ALONE—WITH-MY-DATE
That night, Harish sat up in his bed, shining a light on the Marauder's Map. All of the other boys were fast asleep and it was pitch dark down in their dormitory. Harish had started checking the map each night after the others fell asleep ever since Black had gotten into the castle for the second time.
He knew that the two passageways to Hogsmeade weren't blocked in any way, or guarded. The boy guessed that these could have been how the man had gotten into the castle. Because of this, he intended on making sure that he didn't see the escapee anywhere on the map before he went to sleep. He wasn't being paranoid. He was simply curious on why Black had broken out of Azkaban.
While he was staring at the map, Harish's eyes happened to fall on a dot labelled, "Peter Pettigrew". When he saw this, Harish stopped and stared at it. He knew that Peter Pettigrew was dead. All that had been found of him was his finger. That was why Harish was greatly confused.
Then, in less than a minute, Harish had climbed out of bed and was rummaging in his trunk for his Invisibility Cloak. The teen pulled it around himself and, holding the map below his nose, left the room. As he walked along, he held his wand out of his cloak for light. The light bounced off of portraits and around the hallways, casting odd shadows.
Harish watched as Pettigrew's dot grew closer and closer. The young man glanced up when he should've been face to face with the man, but there was nothing there. When the teen glanced down at the map again, the dot had disappeared and now a new one, saying "Severus Snape" was about to round the corner, coming toward him.
Quickly, Harish muttered, "Knox," turning his light out. Then, he pointed it at the map. "Mischief Managed."
No more than a minute later, Snape had indeed round the corner and was shining his wand-light directly in Harish's face.
"Mr. Blake," Snape murmured. "Fancy seeing you here, out of bed after hours. You know, I have been wanting to speak with you alone for some time now."
He motioned for Harish to follow and the fifth year had no choice, but to allow himself to be led to Snape's office. He had never been inside it before. It was filled with jars of different creatures of body parts. Harish's nose wrinkled when an eyeball swiveled to look at him.
"What do you want to speak with me about?" Harish finally asked.
"Some strange things have been happening in the castle these past five years."
"Oh?" Harish asked. Subconsciously, he strengthened his Occlumency shields. "Like what?"
"Like all of the seventh years showing up in the Hospital Wing in your first year, appearing to have been submitted to the Cruciatus curse. But of course, no student could cast such a spell."
Harish shrugged.
"I wouldn't know, si—"
"Or perhaps the same thing happening the next year? Or possibly the stone being stolen the next, but we find Quirrel without possession with anything like it. Or maybe you could explain how you knew where to find the Chamber of Secrets? Let me tell you, Mr. Blake, I know there is something going on here. Something that is more than meets the eye, and I can assure you I am going to find out what it is!"
"I'm sure I don't know what you are talking about, sir," Harish replied innocently, his eyes wide. He stuck his hands in his pocket, seeming perfectly nonchalant—that is until his hand caused the map to crinkle a little in his pocket.
"Turn out your pockets!" Snape suddenly snapped.
Harish stopped himself from closing his eyes in dread. Then, he pulled the map out of his pocket silently and set it on his professor's desk. All the five years he had owned it, and he had not been caught with it. Snape picked up the map with an odd look on his face.
"Spare bit of parchment," Harish said with a shrug.
Snape turned it over, his eyes on Harish.
"Surely you don't need such an old piece of parchment," he said. "Why don't I just—throw it away?"
His hand moved toward the fire crackling behind him.
"No!" Harish exclaimed.
"So!" Snape said triumphantly. Harish scowled. "What is it? Some sort of Dark Magic? A note written in Invisible Ink?"
Harish blinked. Snape's eyes gleamed.
"Let me see, let me see…" he muttered, taking out his wand and smoothing the map out on his desk. "Reveal your secrets!" he said.
Nothing happened. Harish watched, trying not to show any emotion.
"Show yourself!" Snape said, tapping the map sharply.
It stayed blank. Harish took a deep breath.
"Professor Severus Snape, master of this school, commands you to yield the information you conceal!" Snape said, hitting the map with his wand.
As though an invisible hand was scrawling across it, words appeared on the smooth surface of the map. Harish shuddered. It reminded him slightly of his father's diary that a demon had possessed the year before.
"Mr. Moony present his compliments to Professor Snape, and begs him to keep his abnormally large nose out of other people's business."
Snape froze. Harish froze dumbstruck, at the message. The map didn't stop there, though. More writing was appearing below the first.
"Mr. Prongs would like to agree with Mr. Moony, and would like to add that Professor Snape is an ugly git."
Harish bit back a snort, really working hard to keep his face passive. Snape's expression was priceless. The boy half wished that the twins were there to see it…
"Mr. Padfoot would like to register his astonishment that an idiot like that ever became a professor."
Harish closed his eyes, trying to center himself so that he wouldn't get himself into more trouble. When he'd opened them, the map had had its last word.
"Mr. Wormtail bids Professor Snape good day, and advises him to wash his hair, the slimeball."
Harish waited silently for his Head of House to lash out.
"So…" Snape said softly. "We'll see about this…"
He strode across to the fire, seized a fistful of floo powder, and threw it into the flames.
"Lupin!" Snape called into the fire. "I want a word!"
There was a moment's pause and then Professor Lupin came spinning out of the fire, covered in ashes and looking quite tired. He clambered out of the fireplace and brushed the ash off of his shabby robes.
"You called, Severus?" Lupin asked mildly.
"I certainly did," Snape replied, his face contorted in fury. "I just asked Mr. Blake, here to empty his pockets. He was carrying this."
He pointed to the map that still contain the Marauders' message. Lupin glanced at Harish, only just noticing that he was there, and then looked back at the parchment with an odd, closed expression on his face.
"Well?" Snape queried.
Lupin continued to stare at the map. Harish thought that he looked like he was doing some quick thinking.
"Well?" Snape repeated. "This parchment is plainly full of Dark Magic. This is supposed to be your area of expertise, Lupin. Where do you imagine Blake could have got such a thing?"
Lupin looked up and, by the merest half-glance in Harish's direction, warned him not to interrupt.
"Full of Dark Magic?" he repeated mildly. "Do you really think so, Severus? It looks as though it is merely a piece of parchment that insults anybody who reads it. Childish, but surely not dangerous? I imagine Harish got it from a joke shop—"
"Indeed?" Snape asked with a set jaw, his nostrils flaring. "You think a joke shop could supply him with such a thing? You don't think it more likely that he got it directly from the manufacturers?"
Harish didn't quite understand what Snape was getting at. Nor, apparently did Lupin.
"You mean, by Mr. Wormtail or one of these people?" he asked. "Harish, do you know these men?"
"No," Harish replied quickly.
"You see, Severus?" Lupin asked, turning back to Snape. "It looks like a Zonko's product to me. Now I think I shall retire to bed. Mr. Blake, I think you should as well."
He tucked the map into his robes and stepped behind Harish, following him out of the room. Then, once they were in the corridor once again, Lupin walked up to stand beside the fifth year, and stopped him.
"Now," he said. "I happen to know that this map was confiscated by Filch many years ago, Yes, I know it's a map, and I don't know how it fell into your possession. I am astounded, however, that you did not immediately turn it in. Did it ever occur to you that this could fall into the hands of Sirius Black? Not to mention you wandering around past hours while we have a killer on the loose. I am sure that this will not happen again, for I am keeping the map."
Harish's mouth fell open in outrage. Then, he asked, "Why did Professor Snape think I had gotten it from the manufacturers?"
"Because…" Lupin hesitated. "Because these map-makers would have wanted to lure you out of the school, They'd have found it extremely entertaining. Now, I want you to return to bed. And don't make any detours on the way. If you do, I shall know."
Harish nodded and made his way toward the end of the corridor. Then, he paused, turning back.
"I don't think that map works right anyway," he replied.
"Why do you say that?"
"Because I saw someone on there, who I know to be dead…Peter Pettigrew."
"That's not possible," Lupin whispered. He looked even more tired just then.
"I'm just telling you what I saw," Harish replied before turning back to leave.
As he walked down the corridor, Lupin stared at the map once again.