How James Sirius Acquired The Marauder's Map
"What are you doing?" asked Harry from the doorway.
James jumped about a mile in the air. "Nothing!" he cried, blocking the offending site with his back.
James was only a skinny little thing though, and Harry's vision was barely obscured. The sight of the open drawers and sprawled papers of the desk was left clearly visible. James's dark hair stuck out in all directions and his Weasley-blue eyes were too wide to be innocent.
"You're going through my things," Harry stated, leaning against the doorframe. His voice was stern but his green eyes twinkled with amusement behind his glasses.
James ruffled his messy hair with his right hand, a nervous habit reminiscent of the grandfather he was named after. "I was…" he trailed off, his statement turning into a question. "…looking for my Christmas present?" He smiled up at Harry hopefully.
Harry gave him his best stern look. "It's January," he replied.
"Oh wow!" exclaimed James suddenly, in a far from subtle attempt at changing the subject, as he dove his hand into the drawer behind him and pulled out a crumpled piece of parchment. He glanced down at it, young eyes slowly reading the words. His eyebrows shot up and he looked up at Harry, expression part surprised, part impressed. "Order of Merlin, First Class," he read out loud. Then he shot Harry a stern look that echoed his mother's quite startlingly. "You keep this in a drawer?"
"Err… yeah," replied Harry, shifting uncomfortably. "What should I do with it?"
"I don't know!" replied James, throwing his hands up in the air, exasperated. "Hang it up on the wall? Brag about it at dinner parties?"
It was Harry's turn to change the subject now. "If you want the Map," he said, knowing it was that that his son was after (it certainly wasn't taxes or work files, the only other things those drawers contained). "Then you can have it."
To his surprise, James's face fell. "Dad!" the nine-turning-ten-year-old whined.
"What's wrong?" asked Harry, stepping towards his oldest son, concerned.
"You've ruined it!" complained James, crossing his freckly arms across his skinny chest. "I can't be given the Marauder's Map, that's just lame! I have to steal it." He raised his head proudly. "I must be deemed worthy."
"Oh," was all Harry could respond. "I could leave it hanging around and you could take it…?"
James shot him a look. "You don't get this, do you, Dad?" he said, with all the sincere seriousness of his age. He shook his head sadly and left the room.
Harry stood there for a few moments, perplexed. Eventually he decided to go against James's wishes and leave it outside his bedroom door. As predicted, when he next walked past, it was gone. He heard no further complaint.
Later that night he overheard James recounting the tale of how he "stole" the Map to his little brother, Albus.
Harry smiled and shook his head fondly.
He didn't remember there being quite so many dragons and trolls involved in the original event.