The many times folded over piece of parchment didn't seem to be that interesting, honestly. For all outward appearances? It looked simply like an old blank piece of parchment. There were those - far and few between after so many years - that knew how to quote unquote harness its power and show its full capabilities, but he was not amoung them in that moment in time. James was not stupid, though. At least not in this sense of the word, and knew it had to have some significance to have been kept in that bottom drawer.
His door was locked as he sat with it spread open entirely on his bedroom floor, sitting cross-legged with his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands, the smells of tonight's dinner wafting up from the kitchen. Something was there. Something was hidden in this old thing. He knew that, almost as if by some innate capability passed down through the Potter line. The legacy hidden within would never fully be revealed to him, not necessarily for any reason other than many of those who held the secrets behind it had long ago left this plane of existence. Oh he'd heard stories, so many in fact that it was hard to keep track of them all at times. But. There were others. Ones that had died with the people attached to them, or those who might have had any insight into them not exactly finding themselves willing to open up old wounds. James really couldn't be faulted for his lack of grasp on how important this one thing had been over the course of the past few decades.
He'd never know of the hours that had been put into this simple, simple piece of parchment. The essays and study guides that had been abandoned in favour of haunting the old castle. The pride that had come with each newly discovered passageway and unused room. The sense of worth it had given four young boys, not that much older than he himself now, as they began to realise accomplishment came in many different forms. The bond that had been created as those same ones, from completely different backgrounds and lifestyles, also came to the conclusion that there was a personal allowance in the interpretation of the word 'family'. Not even all of the hands it had ever been passed through, some closer to him than he realised, would ever be known. But there was something there, that he was sure of.
Picking up his wand that lay next to him on the hardwood floor, he shifted to slump to one side, holding out his arm far enough to tap the tip of his wand against the center of it. Nothing happened, and James hadn't really expected it to, but still. That had been anti-climatic. The taps against the paper continued, he getting a far off look in his eyes as he began to imagine just what might be held within this. Having looked up to stare off out his window, he didn't spot the start of a letter or two slowly fading into view on the parchment. It hadn't been properly awoken, but as he knew there was something about this object, the Map seemed to recognise something in him.
A loud knock on the door smacked him back into reality as he suddenly scrambled up, letting go of that seize of surprise, though, as it was only his sister telling him that their father had gotten home and dinner was ready. James told Lily he'd be right down, then the two exchanged their customary teasing insults through his bedroom door, before he set to work folding up the yet again dormant Map along its well-worn creases. This would definitely have to be investigated further later, he thought to himself as he hid it in a box at the back of his closet for safekeeping until then. He had no qualms about the fact that he'd figure it out eventually.