Chapter One

The Map


Author's note: This story portrays the Marauders' fifth year at Hogwarts. I tried to stay as close to the canon as possible, consulting wikipedia and Pottermore probably way more than what can be called healthy. However, there are some discrepancies, the biggest probably being the fact that in this story the Marauders become Animagi at the end of the fourth year instead of the canonical fifth. I believe that this achievement and the work that led to it deserves attention of the literary kind that I couldn't fit within the story I wanted to tell without it becoming disjointed. So I made the decision to leave it off-screen in hope that the narrative flows better this way.

This story is unbeta'ed and English isn't my native language. I tried to do the best job I could while editing but you probably still might find things that'll make you scream and cuddle up with your security blanket.

Disclaimer: Somebody else's sandbox, somebody else's toys. But sweet Merlin on a bike, aren't they shiny.


Merlin, what wouldn't he give for an invisibility cloak right now.

Sirius held his breath when he stepped inside his father's study and gently pushed the door closed behind himself. The inevitable click resounded in the quiet room with a force akin to a thunder and Sirius froze with his fingers still tightly woven around the bronze handle, listening in to the now muffled sounds of a conversation taking place down the corridor. In the drawing room, he supposed. He waited a beat, fighting the crazy certainty that if his entry and the door hadn't managed to draw his parents' attention, the roaring staccato of his heart surely would. There was just no way they couldn't hear it when each strike felt as if somebody hit a giant gong right next to his ear.

Still, apparently there was as the voices miraculously hadn't grown louder and Sirius let himself exhale a small breath of relief, feeling the worst of the tension leave his shoulders. As much as Remus' claim that Sirius' case was one of a compulsive attention seeker couldn't exactly be called unjustified, right now any recognition of his person was the absolutely last thing he wanted. Then again, Remus would just probably say that if that was the case, Sirius would have stayed in his room like he had been told to, and that there was a reason why 'compulsive' was the word used. In all honesty, Sirius really couldn't see himself winning that particular argument. It was what Remus did, he found holes in even most watertight logic and had an annoying propensity for being right.

Truth was Sirius and his parents had been playing this game for the whole summer. Or more to the point, he had been playing while his parents had been working on squashing his childish whims, as they called his opinions purposefully uttered so that every last member of the Noble and Most Bigoted House of Black had a chance to hear them. But playing wasn't really the right word for him either, not if it was supposed to refer to that bitter viciousness that fed Sirius' actions. It was downright stupid too, brought him nothing but peals of yelling and insults, followed up by new punishments. As it was, Sirius was already confined to his room until the end of summer, and most of the time he still couldn't stop his mouth from opening. Compulsive indeed. That and as James had once pointed out there must have been an error in his making, as a result of which Sirius was devoid of the natural filter between brain and mouth. Looking at his parents, Sirius supposed errors had been unavoidable. There was a crazy combination of pride and anger and sheer dumb stubbornness alighted somewhere deep within his being that he blamed for senseless stunts such as wearing a Muggle leather jacket for a family meeting, or replying to his mother's howler with one of his own. It was a matter of principle he told himself, but in reality he knew better.

Still, attention seeking or not, Sirius really could do without being at the receiving end of his father's wrath for invading Orion's study. There were offenses and there were offenses, and despite all his foolish bravado, Sirius did his best to avoid facing the consequences of the latter. Besides, he had a creeping suspicion that at this point it would take much less for his parents to finally completely lose their temper with him. A small, probably suicidal, part of him almost wished for that to happen. Again, he thought of what Remus had once said, that Sirius had a disturbing tendency to put his fingers in the fire just to see how long he could keep them there. Sirius had laughed then, his trademark bark-like laughter that had sounded hollow even to his own ears.

Merlin, he missed his friends. Even if they sometimes did act like insufferable gits with a penchant for cheap mind analyses.

"Lumos," he muttered, taking out his wand.

He kept the light dim, hoping it wouldn't be too pronounced in the slit under the door. He crossed the room, retrieve two leather-bound books from the magically enlarged pocket in his jacket and carefully placed them at the exact spots he had taken them from before his trip to the east of the city. Sirius had access to the family library, or at least he used to before being sentenced to spending summer in his room, but apparently the volumes that had any chance of proving beneficial to his grand side project didn't sit well with the official Black propaganda. Fortunately, the place of exile for the forbidden books was his father's study and Orion thought the walls of the room impenetrable due to the sheer magnitude of his persona. Which in practice meant no wards to worry about.

It was well after midnight when Sirius had come back and he had counted on his parents being asleep by then, just like they had been previous nights making his life so much easier. But as the stairs weren't in immediate vicinity of the drawing room he hoped he could still sneak up to his room unnoticed. He was about to leave when something lying on his father's desk caught his attention; a piece of neatly folded parchment occupied a central place on the wooden area. Without really thinking about it, Sirius approached the desk. Sneaking around Grimmauld Place had taught him that whatever his parents kept, a good part of it was bound to be seriously dark magic. Not enough to be considered a real precaution, Sirius figured wrapping his fingers in a handkerchief before touching the parchment was still better than nothing. As he unfolded it, the yellowish paper remained blank, but when Sirius started mentally going through possible spells that could reveal the contents to him, thin black lines started to spread, crisscrossing the old parchment and combining into convoluted patterns. It was a while before he could make sense of the strange drawings and when he did he couldn't hold back a gasp of surprise that escaped his mouth.

In front of his eyes, splayed on the dark wood of his father's desk was a meticulously drawn, highly detailed map of Hogwarts.

"What the…"

It was as far as he got though, as suddenly he could hear footsteps in an alarming proximity of the room. Forgetting about any protection, he returned the parchment to its original shape, leaped behind the desk and dived under it, shutting off the light and cursing his luck with everything he could think of.

That was it, next summer he was really going to nick the invisibility cloak from James' trunk.

The desk was situated in front of the window and faced the door. Sirius suspected that this layout had a lot to do with the image his father wanted to project while receiving wizards from behind the giant piece of furniture. As it was, the front of the desk gave Sirius cover and he prayed to whomever was listening that Orion wouldn't have any need to step behind it.

The voices rang louder now and Sirius had to still the instinctive urge to jump as the door opened and light filled the room. He could hear his father's sure steps entering the study.

"I can't see why you couldn't just get Kreacher to deliver the map, Uncle." Bella's displeased voice sounded from farther away. Probably leaning against the door frame, she had a habit of doing that.

He couldn't see his father's reaction but judging from Bella's next words the look he dealt her must have been glacial.

"It's a piece of parchment." Sirius could almost hear the shrug in her tone.

"I would normally say gracing that with a comment would be an insult to your intelligence, but you give an impression you don't have much appreciation for it yourself." Orion's calm icy voice sent shivers down Sirius' spine.

"Tiptoeing may be good for politics, Uncle," she hissed, too conceited to see the warning for what it was. "But how exactly remains a mystery to me, as it certainly isn't even remotely effective."

Dear Merlin, but she was always a nutter.

Orion's tone when he replied was deadly and this time there was no mistaking the threat wrapped in the words. "On the ground of you being a guest at my house and for the sentiment I have for my wife's niece I will let your observation slide. This time. You'd be wise not to make the mistake of assuming I will do that again."

"My apologies," Bella said in a tone that bellied the words, but Sirius couldn't help the satisfaction at the hint of fear in her voice. "I was out of order."

There was a sound of paper rustling and Sirius guessed Orion must have handed the map to Bella.

"Hogwarts," she said in a dreamy voice Sirius knew better than to take for a sudden wave of nostalgia. "Didn't expect the thought of dropping by the old shack would give me such a thrill."

All alarms in Sirius' head went off. Hogwarts, why would Bella want to go to Hogwarts? He was unable to stop the bile rising in his throat, too afraid he already knew the answer.

"Dumbledore is not a person you wish to underestimate," Orion remarked dryly.

"Dumbledore is a senile old fool who doesn't realize his time is up. But I'd be more than happy to show it to him."

"Perhaps."

"Well, it's been most pleasant, Uncle." The venom in Bella's words told Sirius that this time she hadn't missed the patronizing tone in Orion's response. Sirius suspected that one of these days his cousin was going to snap; her temper seemed to be constantly on the fuse roughly the size of an old dungbomb and she was just crazy enough to act out on it. He only wished he could see his father's expression when she finally did. "I'm afraid I should be on my way. There's still another meeting I need to attend."

"Kreacher will see you to the floo."

When, at his father's call, the elf popped in the room, Sirius was sure that was it for him, but surprisingly all the old vermin did was ask Bella to follow him and soon Sirius could hear the steps receding in the corridor. But that still left him hidden under his father's desk with Orion in the same room. His father sauntered slowly around the interior. Sirius couldn't see what he was doing but dreaded that Orion's steps would finally lead him behind the desk. His father's outbursts weren't exactly a novelty to him, but Sirius had a sinking suspicion that being discovered while listening in to a secret conversation would introduce him to an entirely new level of Orion's fury, level he had no wish to be acquainted with. He could feel the droplets of sweat roll down the nape of his neck making his hair stick to the bare skin and he willed his breathing to be as slow as physically possible.

Finally, after a few agonizing minutes Sirius heard his father depart, all lights disappearing in the wake of the door shutting behind him. He counted to twenty before allowing himself to take a deeper breath. Warily, he crept out from under the desk, crossed the room and put his ear to the door. When no sound came Sirius risked slipping out and on jelly legs hurried upstairs.

Only after he reached his bedroom did the full meaning of what he had just accidentally witnessed hit him. Hogwarts, Bellatrix was planning to invade Hogwarts. No, not Bellatrix, he corrected himself. She found the plan amusing all right, but Sirius was all too aware that she wasn't a planning type. Did Dumbledore know? But how could he? He wasn't the one living in the bloody haven for all things dark and cunning where the secret middle-of-the-night plotting took place. There was also the part about showing the Headmaster that, as Bella put it, his time had run out that Sirius really, really didn't like. Crap.

Determined to ignore the tremor in his hands, Sirius rummaged in his trunk where painstakingly wrapped in the folds of his school robes sat a small mirror.

"James," he whispered to the black surface. "James, wake up."

When nothing happened, he risked calling in a slightly stronger voice. He was well familiar with James Potter's sleeping habits and as it was, usually nothing short of a Quiditch match was a motivation enough to wake him up. His dead-to-the world beauty rest had been the culprit of numerous failed pranks before the rest of the Marauders had finally given up and cancelled James' turns to wake them, sharing the sentinel duty between themselves instead. As infuriating as it had been, even James' giddy satisfaction hadn't made them withdraw that decision.

"Prongs!"

"Padfoot?" Sirius could see a change in the mirror as the black surface was suddenly filled with a haze of dark shapes, moving too fast for Sirius to pinpoint what they belonged to. Finally, it showed a very groggy face of his friend. "'S anything happened?"

"I've just witnessed my father conspiring with Bellatrix to break into Hogwarts."

"Wait, what?" Sirius could see James propping himself upright in the bed. His friend disappeared from his sight for a second during which the room was lit up and suddenly a more lucid and wide-eyed James reappeared in the mirror, straightening the glasses on his nose. "Sirius, are you all right?"

He hadn't seen much of any of his fellow Marauders this summer and when his owling privilege had been ceased the only contact with the outside world had become the Two-Way Mirror. Still, between his parents' maniacal desire to cut him off and Kreacher's self appointed mission to catch him doing something deemed forbidden, Sirius hadn't risked talking to James all that often. He supposed then that the question really shouldn't have come as a surprise.

"Yes, I'm fine. They didn't see me."

James gave a small sigh of relief which Sirius wasn't sure he should be cross with or grateful for. "So what happened?"

Sirius recapped the events following his return to Grimmauld Place as faithfully as he could, all the while observing growing terror showing in his friend's face.

"Merlin's beard," James asserted after Sirius was finally done.

"Yeah, I was thinking along the same lines."

"We have to do something!" James exclaimed, then winced when Sirius' head instinctively shot towards the door. "Sorry, mate."

Sirius ignored him. "But what? We can't exactly owl Dumbledore. I can already see this letter: hello Headmaster, I've heard my cousin and my dad plotting to kill you. Enjoy your holiday, eh? Just imagine someone other than Dumbledore laying their eyes on it."

"Not to mention that suggesting Bella would be able to kill him is slightly offending at best. I do not wish to start my year with a detention for failing to show proper respect for Hogwarts staff. The Headmaster, no less."

"But that leaves us with the same question: how are we going to warn Dumbledore?"

"We have to go to Hogwarts," James said like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"You do realize that he can be in about million other places right now, don't you?"

"But he lives there, right? I mean, he can be somewhere else, sure, but it's almost two o'clock in the morning and in all likelihood he's snoring in his chambers after consuming a gigantic bag of lemon drops. Or whatever else it is that headmasters do on holiday."

Truth was, Dumbledore might or might not be at Hogwarts and Sirius thought James must realize it. But wherever the Headmaster was, the school was the only place they knew of they actually had a fair chance of finding him. It was a gift James had, clocking the problem and coming up with the plainest, most impossible solution, the implied lemon drop dependency notwithstanding. Sirius had long supposed that instinctive combination of the straightforward and unexpected was partly the reason why James made such a good Quiditch player. That and maybe also his mad flying skills.

Sirius held James' intent gaze for a while, there was a sense of pressing hurriedness he couldn't shake and was sure his friend couldn't either. In the end, it was well warranted.

"James, how fast can you get to the eastern outskirts of the city?"

James squinted at the mirror, an unmistakable glint of mischief appearing in his eyes. "East isn't exactly the right direction now, is it?"

"You're right, we have to go to Hogwarts and I think I just know how we can get there."


"Where did you get this thing from?"

"Flea market I hear they call it."

James arched an eyebrow in an unspoken question. "I swear, your fascination with everything Muggle is becoming more and more unnerving," he paused, a smug look appearing in his face. "Your mother must be delighted."

Sirius grinned in response, "That she is."

James was well aware of Sirius' habit of bumming around the Muggle London as well as the primary reason that had pushed him to take it up in the first place. Sirius had refined sneaking out of Grimmauld Place to an art, but the state of affairs at his house during the summer had been slowly deteriorating and effectively preventing him from spending out more than a few hours at night when he had been sure his parents were sleeping. Things had been rough, or at least rougher than usual, and even though Sirius realized that a great part of it he owed to his own doings, the knowledge wasn't a big help. He wasn't sure how much of that James could gather, but since his friend wasn't saying anything on the matter, Sirius supposed it was quite a lot.

"Still, at least it explains the full moon incident," James observed, almost contemplatively.

"Oh, shut up. It was Remus' fault, he's the one with the abundance of fur, while mine is always nice and shiny."

"Maybe. But I don't recall Remus ever mentioning going to places that sell fleas. What?" James huffed at Sirius' snigger.

"Oh, nothing. Just, next time you see Evans? Be sure to ask her where her family stocks up on fleas. It'll make a splendid conversation starter, may give you just the boost you need. Not to mention the practical side, after all you poisoned all of mine, remember?"

"And I'm not going to make that mistake again," James bristled. "Okay, fine, so that flea market, I take it doesn't actually sell fleas, does it?"

"Shockingly, no. Just old, mostly used-up and flea-full things. Hence the name, I suppose."

"Which still points to you as the primary suspect," James grinned. "You have always been a stray, Padfoot."

"Can we please focus on the matter at hand?"

"Like for example why we're in the East London staring at your latest Muggle purchase?"

"Exactly like that."

They were standing in a small garden shed Sirius had spent a better part of summer nights in. It was situated within the premises of a magical kindergarten so he hadn't needed to worry about the Improper Use of Magic Office landing on his case while the summer provided the much-needed absence of a flock of nosy kids. The Trace was an imperfect thing at best, which the Marauders had discovered and put to good use on numerous occasions. They had figured that any remotely magical surroundings instantly muted the alarm that was supposed to be set off by any underage magic, so they always made sure that all their extra-curricular endeavours took place in carefully chosen locations.

"So? This thing?" James jutted his chin at the very product of Srius' vacation plan of how not go off his rocker and set Grimmauld Place on fire. "What exactly does it do?"

"Your ignorance hurts me. It's a motorcycle, a 1930 BSA Sloper to be exact."

James's brows flew impossibly higher on his forehead.

"A Muggle means of transportation?" Sirius offered.

"Aren't those supposed to be confined to the ground and take ages to travel from one place to another?"

"I've been doing some enhancements," Sirius said with a sly smile. "She's still in test and trials but should take us straight to Hogwarts no problem."

"She?"

Judging by his friend's face, Sirius assumed his grin was enough of a reply.

James gave a miniscule shake of his head, incredulity vying with mock concern in his voice. "As soon as the term starts we really need to get you a girlfriend."

"Says the one with a hopeless crush on the girl who can't even say hi to you without a wish to snap your broom in two. Sorry, Prongs, but this whole relationship thing? Not your strongest side."

"See, that's where you're wrong. I'm just afraid that until you are hit with the blunt fact of Lily becoming my wife - and she will eventually, mind you - you won't be able to fully appreciate the subtle mastery of my workings."

"Uh-huh, sure, Prongs, whatever you say."

"So, those enhancements you've mentioned?"

"She flies," Sirius beamed proudly.

James, however, didn't seem to share his enthusiasm. "Yeah well, so do brooms."

"Right, but she's way more stable and easier to navigate on long distances."

"Only when you don't know how to handle your broom properly." James' expression was nothing if not irritatingly smug.

"Come on, Prongs, it's too windy for a broom and we do have to fly all the way to Scotland. She on the other hand-"

"Can you please stop referring to your Muggle motor thing as if she was a person."

"You've just called her 'she'," Sirius pointed out with a triumphant grin. "And be nice as she's going to carry your broom-accustomed hindquarters a good distance above the ground. Not so smart to hurt her feelings, mate."

"I suppose your girl's vanity is going to suffer anyway." James scratched the back of his head. "We have to disillusion her. And well," he waved a hand in an all-encompassing gesture, "us."

"It's a shame. I've spent a good deal of time getting all those golds and reds just right."

"McGonagall would be so proud."

"Shall we?"

James retrieved his wand. "Ladies first," he said as he tapped the bike muttering Dissimulo.

Sirius waited a couple of seconds during which nothing happened and then gaped as the frame of the motorcycle slowly started to pulsate with various colors displayed in different places of the shed. The rest of the machine seemed unbothered by the spell.

"Err, James? I don't think it's supposed to work like that."

"It's not like I'm stopping you from taking your hands out of your pockets," James clipped.

It took them about fifteen minutes to disillusion most of the bike and another five to work on themselves, though every now and then the frame would still show a tendency to pick various colours from its surroundings and flash them instead of blending in with the background.

Sirius lifted his forearms, amazed at just how well they fitted in with the dirty wooden planks laid on the floor. He could still make out the shape of his limbs, but he had an advantage of knowing exactly where to look, he doubted anybody gazing in the sky would notice anything, wacky frame or not.

"Well, I suppose as long as we don't pass any vividly coloured kites on our way, we should be fine," James said and even though Sirius couldn't see his friend's face, he heard the jubilant smile in the words loud and clear. "Which, judging by the fact it's the middle of the night, shouldn't be that big of a problem. Let's go."

They mounted the bike a bit awkwardly, Sirius in front and James sitting behind him.

"Hold on," Sirius said as he pulled the bike off its kickstand.

He could feel James shift, but if there was anything his friend wanted to say it was drowned by the sound of the engine sputtering to life. Sirius gunned her for a second for the effect before dropping her into gear and releasing the clutch. The bike instantly shot forward making him almost lose his grip on the handlebars.

"You sure you know how to ride this thing?" James' scream was right next to his ear.

"Sure thing. Just need to get the hang of it," Sirius shouted back as he stirred the bike out of the shed and down towards a narrow dirt road. "We need to get some speed before I can take her up."

"Get the hang of it?" James all but screeched, his arms wrapping impossibly tighter around Sirius' middle. "You trying to tell me you haven't ridden her, I mean it, I mean this thing, before?"

"I don't know if you've noticed but she's a bit of a racket. And seeing as I've been here mainly at night-"

"It is night, Padfoot! And this bloody thing is louder than the Hogwarts Express! What's the point of disillusioning her when she's going to scream our presence in the three-mile radius!"

The bike was gaining speed, sending the gravel flying in its wake. Sirius felt the wind biting against his face, but the hand of the speedometer was still barely reaching 50 mph. It wasn't enough. He rolled on the throttle and felt a sudden pang of wild exhilaration at the purring response of the engine.

"Well, theoretically," he yelled over the noise, "as soon as we leave the ground it should be quiet. As of now she's still going Muggle."

"Theoretically, he says theoretically! And I'm going to die. Killed by my best friend's Muggle excuse for a hobby."

"It's a catchy phrase, will make an excellent note on your tombstone." Sirius spared a look at the instrument panel. "Okay, hang tight. I'm taking her up."

He yanked the bars upwards feeling the magic he had been putting into the bike stir awake. Familiar static tickled his forearms and raised the hairs at the nape of his neck. The front of the machine lifted as if climbing up an invisible ramp and was promptly followed by the rear wheel. As soon as it left the ground, the bike started to ascend more rapidly and gave a few hectic surges upwards. James let out a strangled gasp and Sirius flung himself forward, struggling to keep hold of the bars and correct the course. It hurdled and wringed in his grip, and he could feel the strain shaking up the muscles in his arms. The bike shot upwards one more time and then dived abruptly, offering them a good view of the hastily approaching ground. With all the strength he could muster, Sirius strived to combat the wayward machine, cursing and pleading and willing the giant heap of steel to just bloody listen. Finally, the front wheel budged and Sirius snatched the handlebars up with everything he had. The bike soared up and the route evened out, cutting clearly through the dark night.

"Rough patch, huh?" Sirius chuckled nervously. The velocity made his eyes water. He couldn't exactly see his hands but was sure his knuckles were milky white on the handlebars. There was still a tremor spurting up his arms and as the sudden adrenaline rush was slowly ebbing away, he could feel the weakness creeping in in its place.

James growled something unintelligible, which Sirius had an uncanny feeling would make a sterling commentary to some of the more vivid books residing in the Restricted Section at Hogwarts.

"James, mate, you have to speak up. What's the point of murder threats if all I can hear is you mumbling in my jacket?"

"I said," James stressed, apparently recovering from the rocky start, "next time you have an idea, just remind me to hex you."

"You sure don't mean it. You love my ideas."

"Uh, no. I love chocolate frogs. You know why? They're not trying to kill me!"

The engine roar was steadily quietening until it trailed off to a low murmur. Sirius navigated the bike over a small copse and then took her up and accelerated. She sailed easily through the night sky, eating up the distance effortlessly. Below stretched a cookie-cutter cavalcade of block-like houses and the thought of Muggles sleeping inside their perfect little boxes, unaware of what was going on right above their heads filled him with a kind of strange audacious elation. It felt a lot like that first full moon when they had run wild in the Forbidden Forest, high on fear, adrenaline and a euphoric sense of freedom.

Soaring through the night sky, Sirius was especially glad about the extra time he had spent perfecting the speeding spells. The combination of velocity, chilly wind hitting him in the face and the massive weight underneath was exhilarating. It was nothing like flying a broom, which might be more manoeuvrable and better for fast curves and last minute turns, but had nothing of the solid power the motorcycle radiated. Sirius pushed her even faster, revelling in the liberating sensation.

"So okay," James said shifting slightly in his seat, a tinge of wonder in his tone. "Maybe I do love some of your ideas. Even if I uphold the view that most of them are potentially deadly."

Sirius grinned. "Not too bad, eh?"

They flew some time in quiet, each engrossed in their own thoughts, the motorcycle purring contentedly underneath.

"It's good to see you, Padfoot," James said with a somewhat sheepish hint to the words. "I'm almost happy your father wants to kill Dumbledore."

Sirius couldn't see his friend, but he really didn't have to to know the git was grinning. As off the wall as it sounded, it was the very reason why they were currently gliding over London on Sirius' magic-enhanced Muggle motorcycle and dashing towards Hogwarts at the breakneck speed. It was downright absurd, that's what it was. That, and also disturbingly similar to Sirius' own thoughts, and it just cracked him up. He laughed, not caring one bit about the echo of the sound resounding under the star-strewn sky.