CHAPTER THIRTEEN: Marauding Maps

Author's Note: So, we hit 100 favorites last chapter. And that's just - wow. Guys. We aren't even finished with first year yet. It's not a lot to some people but it's a ton to me. Thank you.

Hermione glared at the blond Slytherin. "I wasn't shouting-" she started hotly. Draco rolled his eyes and opened his mouth to retort, but Harry stepped on his foot from where he sat on the bench next to him.

He repressed a smug smile as the blond cursed, grey eyes lighting up with pain and anger.

"Thank you, Hermione," Harry began sincerely. "What is it you heard?" he asked, leaning forward.

"I overheard Professor Snape threatening Professor Quirrel," she said without preamble.

Harry's eyes lit up and he turned to Draco, a small smile turning up the corners of his lips. "It's exactly like we thought," he said eagerly, nodding. "Professor Snape knows!"

"When did you hear it?" Draco demanded, glare still frosty. Hermione returned the look, scowling.

"The first night I got back from break."

"Must have been when you were in the hospital wing," Harry mumbled dejectedly. Draco flushed, sighing impatiently.

Hermione frowned. "Why was he in the hospital wing?"

"Nevermind," Draco cut in, gritting his teeth. He didn't need the girl lecturing him about making dangerous potions. "So around what time was it? Dinner?"

Hermione flushed in embarrassment now, looking away. "Well, I mean, I sort of got lost after dinner on the staircases, so it may have been a little while after that," she mumbled.

"Hermione, were you out after hours?" Harry asked in a teasing tone of faux-horror.

She rolled her eyes, huffing. "It was entirely on accident. Anyway, I overheard, well, Professor Snape was sort of... asking Quirrel how to get past Fluffy," she said finally, drawing in her eyebrows with concern as she waited for the expected response to her statement.

Draco glared at her in disbelief at what she was insinuating. "Professor Snape is not trying to steal-"

"-The Philosopher's Stone," Hermione finished his sentence. "Yes, I also found out that's what he's after. I'm sure you both did too, though," she said, judging the looks on their faces.

Harry nodded. "What do you mean, he was asking Quirrel how to get past Fluffy?"

Hermione sighed. "I didn't know what to make of it either, Harry. He asked, very clearly, if Quirrel had figured out how to get past Hagrid's pet yet."

Draco rolled his eyes. "You misunderstood him, clearly."

Hermione glared. "What's there to misunderstand?" she snapped. "He tried cursing Harry off his broom-"

"-What?-" Harry cut in incredulously.

"-No, he did not," Draco said snappishly, eyes flashing. "That was Quirrel."

"So you say," Hermione continued. "And now, he's running around late at night-"

"-Which he is allowed to do, as a teacher, and you aren't, Granger," Draco snapped.

"And he's asking questions like that, and telling Quirrel things like "You don't want me for an enemy," and all I'm saying-"

"-Doesn't matter what you're saying, it's what you're insinuating," Draco said hotly, standing up from the bench. Harry's eyes darted between the two, eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

"-All I'm saying," Hermione continued loudly, glaring as she too got to her feet, "is that it looks awfully suspicious, and I think you're too blinded by bias to think that maybe, Malfoy, Professor Snape isn't on our side."

"Because he is on our side, and you're just reading everything the wrong way because he's the only teacher who doesn't reward your obnoxious habit of going into cardiac arrest every time you're called upon to answer a question in class."

Hermione's cheeks went very red, and she inhaled very sharply just as Harry stood up, green eyes flicking uncertainly between the two.

Hermione opened her mouth like she would like to say something before shaking her head and hastily beginning to gather up her things. Draco rolled his eyes at her dramatics.

"Hermione," Harry said softly, frowning and shooting a short glare at Draco. "He didn't mean it," he said as she flung her things into her bag and pulled it over her shoulder.

"Yes, he did," she said shortly.

"I did," Draco said agreeably, nodding and setting his jaw.

Harry glared sharply at the blond. "Hermione, we really appreciate your help," he insisted as she began to stomp off, leaving a trail of footprints in the white snow.

"Good riddance," Draco sniffed. Harry took off after her, leaving his things with Draco who snarled indignantly.

"Hermione, listen," he said gently, placing a hand on her shoulder. She jerked away, glaring.

"Why are you friends with him?" she snapped, looking back to where the blond stood with arms crossed, glaring at the two of them.

Harry sighed, shaking his head. "He was just upset that you were saying those things about Professor Snape," Harry insisted, ignoring the question.

Hermione's eyes flashed. "I was just telling you what I saw," she said shortly, looking to the doors of the castle.

Harry shifted to in between the castle and her, frowning apologetically. "I know, and I really appreciate it." The green-eyed Slytherin cast a searching glance over to Draco, who was stuffing his own things into his bag, knocking over some of Harry's things in the process. "Look, Draco can be a bit... I mean, I know he's rude to you," Harry said very quickly, "but, Hermione, I appreciate everything you've done," he said, looking back to the girl and smiling. "Was there anything else you overheard in the conversation?"

Hermione sighed, blowing out a long breath and nodding. "He said, well, Professor Quirrel said that he didn't know what Snape meant. And stuttered some. Snape cut him off, said something like Quirrel knew exactly what he meant, and then left with some sort of line about Quirrel knowing where his loyalties lie," she said. "The whole thing was very dodgy, Harry, I just don't know if Professor Snape is quite as reliable as Draco would like to believe," she said softly.

Harry nodded thoughtfully. He sent Hermione a cheerful smile. "Thank you, Hermione," he said warmly. "Really. Draco appreciates it too, he's just," Harry glanced over to the blond, who was now making his way over to the door behind the two, chin up and shoulders back as he glared. "He's Draco," Harry finished.

"I don't know how you stand her," Draco snarled. By the time he approached Harry's side, Hermione had retreated to the castle, still bristling with anger.

He glared at the black-haired boy, adjusting the strap to his bag on his shoulder. "Go get your things. We're going to go tail Quirrel. If Professor Snape is approaching him directly, it must mean he's dangerously close. Telling Professor Snape our suspicions now won't work either, clearly. He already has his own, and Dumbledore is probably ignoring them."

Harry absorbed all of this and nodded. "Professor Snape also apparently told Quirrel to remember where his loyalties lie," he said as he strode over to collect his things. Draco followed, nodding.

"Definitely sounds like it has to do with-with... Voldemort, then," the blond said, whispering Voldemort's name. For the first time on this subject, a flicker of fear lit in his eyes.

Harry nodded in agreement, frowned, and furrowed his eyebrows as he thought, pausing to scuff his foot in the snow.

"What do you think we should do, then?" Draco asked, looking up at the sky as the sun hid behind a cloud. It hung low in the sky, brushing the horizon orange and red.

"It's obvious isn't it?" Harry said, looking up from the ground. "We can't let Quirrel get away with it. Professor Snape can't help us, and if he can't, then Professor Dumbledore won't. You just said we should go tail Quirrel."

Draco blinked. "And?"

Harry leaned forward, snatching up Draco's bag from around his neck and pulled out his invisibility cloak, tossing the bag back to the blond as he shook it out of its folded square.

"We'll just have to do it on our own," Harry said firmly.

"You know, when I said we should go do it then, I was really just sort of angry and not thinking. I really don't see what good we're going to be doing. If Professor Snape knows, then-"

"Are you telling me you don't want to know exactly what he's up to, Draco?" Harry asked curiously as the boys maneuvered down the abandoned corridor under the cloak.

"Of course I do," Draco said in response, as if the question personally insulted him. "I just don't exactly know what our plan is."

Harry shrugged. "We can't have a plan until we know what Quirrel's planning."

"That sounded very redundant," Draco complained.

"We really ought to learn how to put silencing spells on the cloak," Harry mumbled. "I tried, but the magic and wards already interwoven in it are very difficult to work with," he said, sighing.

"There are wards on it too?" Draco asked curiously. "Also, next time I want the front. I can't see anything past your head."

"Shh," Harry murmured as they turned a corner. Draco leaned to the left, peering around Harry's shoulder and through the front of the cloak.

Fred and George Weasley stood next to a few suits of armor that were in a row. Fred - the one who called himself George - was waving his wand and murmuring incantations over something in a box. George, on the other hand, was eagerly chatting up one of the suits of armor, trying to convince him to do something for him.

"Come on, be a mate, it won't hurt! We've practiced this all sorts of times," George said encouragingly.

"Yeah, honest!" Fred chirped, looking up from what he was working on. "Besides, guys, you're made of metal."

The suit of armor looked at them suspiciously, seemingly unsure. The tallest suit of armor shook his head, and the one the twins had been talking to shrugged apologetically, leaning back against the wall.

Draco sneered from behind the other Slytherin and Harry began to inch forward once again. As they walked past, Draco tugged on his robes, nodding toward where the boys sat.

Harry frowned, and Draco wordlessly tugged on his sleeve again, nodding more enthusiastically to the twins.

Harry allowed himself to be pulled and guided uncomfortably close to the Weasleys, who were very involved in what they were working on. Finally, the black-haired Slytherin's eyes alighted on what had gotten Draco's attention.

Fred looked up sharply, as if detecting something in the air. He pulled out his wand, touching it to the piece of parchment with words inscribed on it that Harry could not make out in the dark. Draco looked at the parchment curiously.

"Mischief managed," Fred whispered so softly that Harry would not have caught it had he been a foot farther away.

"What's that, my sweet? They're over here, you say?" Filch's nasally voice suddenly cut through the air. George spun around, and without a word began packing up their things, shoving them away.

"Aha!" Filch shouted as he rounded the bend. His eyes lit up with delight and a grin curled around the corners of his lips.

Fred and George eyed each other quickly. Draco, taking advantage of their momentary pause, stepped on the piece of parchment next to the boys with just the edge of his foot. He dragged it across the floor and underneath the Cloak.

Fred noticed the movement. His eyes grew wide with shock, disbelief, horror and a hint of anger, but before he had a chance to react Filch was walking forward, snarling.

"You two. I knew it," he wheezed, laughing giddily.

"I'm sorry Filchy-"

"-you seem a bit lost-"

"-is there something you need?" the boys asked innocently. Fred could barely keep the stiffness out of his tone as he discreetly inched toward where the parchment had disappeared.

Filch's laughter turned to a glare. "I told my Mrs. Norris, you see, I told her to sniff out the vermin who had kidnapped her. And aha! Would you look at where she leads me, straight to you two-"

Draco leaned over underneath the cloak, picking up the parchment he had dragged over and stuffing it in his pocket. Harry began to walk away as quickly as he could without making a sound, and Draco followed suit.

Mrs. Norris hissed, turning to face the invisibly retreating duo.

Harry and Draco took off simultaneously, the cloak still dutifully hiding them from view. Filch didn't notice his cat's fury, and was relishing having caught the twins.

He was clearly quite sure they were the ones who had "kidnapped" Mrs. Norris, and was shouting off about how he'd hang them by their toes. Apparently, if nothing else, they were out of bed past hours.

Draco and Harry did not stop running until they reached the top of the steps and were relieved to find that Mrs. Norris had not pursued them.

"What do you have there?" Harry asked curiously, leaning forward to see what Draco had been so desperate to snatch from the twins.

"I have no idea," Draco responded cheerfully. He gently touched his hand to the parchment. "But by the look on that one's face, this is something important."

Harry opened his mouth to protest and Draco's eyes gleamed as he ran his fingers over the edge of the old piece of parchment. It was not so old as to be fragile, but it was clearly well-used and loved.

Before Harry could voice his concern, Draco looked up, smacking a hand over the protesting boy's mouth. He pointed with his other that had the parchment crumpled in it, to where Professor Snape stood, nostrils flaring, glaring down at Professor Quirrel.

Harry did not see, though, and had swatted his friend's hand away angrily. "What was that-" he began to hiss, only to have Draco step furiously on his foot and attempt to cover his mouth again with both hands.

It was too late, however. Both Professors looked up from whatever conversation they had been invested in. Professor Snape's eyes narrowed. Professor Quirrel's usually timid expression was momentarily replaced by one of heavy amusement, the sides of his mouth curling up into a grin that was gone in an instant.

"Come out," Snape's cold, monotone voice demanded.

Harry swallowed hard at the dark, furious look in the Potions Master's eyes. He took an involuntary step back, stepping into Draco. This caused their feet to scuff, creating more noise.

Snape stepped toward them, lips set in a thin line. He did not seem to forget Professor Quirrel however, his gaze flicking back to make sure the man in the turban was not making an escape.

Professor Quirrel made a nervous titter and stepped forward as well, his expression one of concern. "St-Students out of b-bed?" he stuttered, visibly shaking as Snape pinned him with a vicious glare.

Professor Snape paused, nostrils flaring. He slowly let his eyes drift closed as if something occurred to them.

"It's most likely just the poltergeist," he said suddenly, turning away from where Draco and Harry stood, rooted to the spot in fear of making more noise.

Professor Quirrel laughed, shaking as he stepped around Professor Snape. "Y-Yes, of course, of course," he said softly, his expression one of complete terror as Snape analyzed him with his black gaze. "Th-That poltergeist, a-always causing m-mischief." He looked over to the other wizard very innocently. "Been k-keeping me up at night," he said with a quivering laugh. "W-Walking around the castle t-trying to find out wh-what the ruckus is."

Snape's jaw visibly clenched, his hand drifting almost subconsciously to where his wand rested in his robe pockets. He leaned forward, and Quirrel flinched back, away from the intimidating man.

"Certainly," he said, his voice laced with quiet, deadly sarcasm. "Well, then, our rooms are in the same direction, we might as well take a walk back there together. Unless, of course, you had other plans, Professor Quirrel?"

Quirrel looked very pale, Draco noted for the first time. An unusual, sickly pale. Not like the kind he got from fear, though that more than likely accentuated it.

No, he looked sickly. The man in turban nodded very jerkily. "I - ah, of c-course not," he said with a tone of such terror and innocence, that Harry found it easy to see where Hermione had gotten her suspicions from.

Harry began to follow after them, but Draco shook his head, grabbing Harry by the shoulder.

The green-eyed boy glared at the other, nodding insistently toward the professors retreating forms. Draco merely shook his head again.

When they were a fair distance away, Draco spoke in a very soft tone: "We can't follow them anymore. Don't worry though, Professor Snape has his eye on Quirrel, I think he stopped whatever plan he had for the night. He was heading away from the fifth floor corridor, however, did you notice that?" Draco said.

Harry turned, now beginning to descend back toward the Slytherin common room. Draco followed. The black-haired wizard cast his friend a hesitant look, before opening and closing his mouth, clearing his throat, and sighing.

"What if Hermione was right, Draco?" he managed finally.

Draco stopped walking, his grey eyes hardening and his posture going very stiff. "About?"

Harry shrugged a little and Draco gave the painting the password, stepping inside. "I just mean, Professor Snape did look-"

"It's not Professor Snape," Draco said with finality as the walked up the steps to their dorm.

Harry sighed a little, pulling the cloak off of the both of them, carefully folding it up again. He pushed open the door to their shared dorm, holding it open as the blond stepped through and letting it fall closed. "All right. Fine."

"Did something seem off about Professor Quirrel to you?" Draco asked, now firmly closing the subject.

Harry nodded. "He seemed.. sick."

"Did your scar hurt this time when we saw him?"

The black-haired Slytherin frowned in thought before shaking his head. "No, actually, I didn't notice but you're right. I didn't feel anything."

Draco nodded. "I thought so. He seemed weak, sick. And he was trying to leave the castle, I think."

"Why do you think that?" Harry asked.

"He was dressed warmly and he was near an exit," the grey-eyed boy replied.

"Perhaps he was going to see Hagrid?" Harry suggested, walking over to his bed and laying down with a sigh.

Draco opened his mouth as if to protest before snapping it closed, nodding thoughtfully. "That's very possible," he said finally, looking into the distance in thought.

"We could go ask Hagrid tomorrow," Harry suggested.

Draco frowned. He huffed for a second, as if deep in thought, before giving a stiff nod that Harry couldn't see. "All right. We'll ask him if Professor Quirrel's been to visit him recently."

Harry nodded, his eyes drifting closed as he realized how truly tired he was. "Sounds like a plan," he murmured, sighing.

Draco pulled off his shoes and headed into the bathroom to ready for bed, blowing out a candle as he went.

Harry was up high on his broom, the wind ruffling his hair. He took a deep breath, letting his eyes drift closed. He held tight to his broom and shot downward into a dive. He did a corkscrew loop, a laugh escaping his lips.

To his right, in a crevice in the wall of a castle, was some sort of nest. Harry took his broom in its direction, eyes peering curiously inside. As he neared the nest, a medium-sized blur of a bird flew into vision and made a beeline toward him.

He narrowly dodged the bird, which was making a strange, sharp sound and moved away from the nest, quickly guessing the animal's reason for aggression.

The bird, somehow, had recovered from its dive and went after Harry even as he moved away from the nest. Harry froze in place as it hovered in front of him.

The animal tilted its head.

He was an impressive bird. Not overly huge, with a slightly larger than three foot wingspan. He had slate wings and a pale underbelly, a white face with black stripes on each cheek. His eyes were large, and at first glance, dark.

They then flashed into a brilliant green color, blinding. The bird launched forward, its green eyes blazing and blasting out all of Harry's vision into flashing green light.

A woman's scream pierced his eardrums and there was a ferocious sting as the bird, surely, attacked him-

"-Harry. Harry get up we have Quidditch practice and we both slept in," Draco's voice cut through Harry's dream and startled him into consciousness, gasping for breath and sitting upright. The dream began to slip away almost immediately, fading like a fragile memory.

Harry fumbled for his glasses, wiping them on his shirt and pushing them on to his face. "Great, let's go!" he said cheerfully at the thought of flying.

"Were you having a bad dream?" Draco asked suddenly, pulling away from the other boy's bed and frowning.

Harry frowned in return, and furrowed his eyebrows. A dream clawed at the edges of his mind, and he closed his eyes, sucking on his teeth before shaking his head.

"I don't know," he said finally, green eyes popping open. He shrugged. "Did I sound like I was?" he asked as he stood, brushing off his clothes from yesterday.

Draco paused. "A bit," he said finally, turning to his wardrobe.

Harry groaned as he glanced at the clock. "Flint is going to kick us off the team."

Draco snorted. "He'll be fine. You've been winning his games, Harry, and he knows it. He won't throw out a good thing. It was an empty threat to ensure you showed up for practice, and to intimidate you."

"You think?" Harry asked hopefully as he snatched up his Quidditch outfit, heading for the bathroom.

Draco shook his head. "I know," he corrected. Harry closed the door behind him and Draco proceeded to hastily throw on his clothes in the bedroom, readying his hair with a few spells in front of the mirror in his wardrobe.

"Did we miss breakfast?" Harry asked as he stepped out of the bathroom.

"Yes," Draco said briskly. "And our chance to talk to the... gamekeeper. Unfortunately." Draco sneered.

Harry frowned in confusion at Draco's hostility toward Hagrid's job, but shrugged it off. "We'll just have to talk to him after dinner," the black-haired wizard responded. He headed over to his trunk and pulled out his cloak, tossing it over to Draco who placed it in his bag.

"I've been practicing my parseltongue," Draco said cheerfully. "I think we should come up with some sort of written language for it. Do you think we could do that?"

Harry paused, frowning. "Well," he began slowly. "I suppose so, I mean, I don't see why not," he said finally, shrugging.

Draco beamed cheerfully and pulled open the door to their dorm, hopping down the steps. Harry followed after him hurriedly.

"No, no, Draco it says just three stirs clockwise," Harry corrected as he leaned over his Potions book, glancing up to see the other boy stirring over their cauldron.

The blond nodded, stopping at three stirs. Harry leaned over, wand raised, and waved it carefully over the potion.

"And now?" Draco asked curiously, tugging his own Potions book into his lap and flipping to the correct page.

"We wait," Harry answered even as Draco read it for himself. The blond wizard nodded, setting the book back down on the table and peering into their cauldron. The potion was a light cyan color, looking smooth in consistency. He nodded to himself, pleased with their progress, and peered around the classroom.

None of the other students had seemed to reach the waiting period Harry and he had. He smiled smugly to himself in acknowledgement of that.

Ronald Weasley groaned from across the room. "I forgot," he said miserably to Seamus Finnigan, who sat on his left. Seamus groaned in response and flicked open his book in frustration.

Draco sniggered, and Harry peered around him in interest, watching the scene curiously.

"Harry," Draco said suddenly in a low voice, grabbing the other boy's attention. Harry flicked his green eyes back to the blond, gazing expectantly. Draco looked around once more to make sure all of the students around them - especially the Slytherins and Weasley - were focused on their work. Satisfied that they were, he reached into his bag and retrieved the piece of parchment from the other night.

Harry's eyes lit up. "Oh! I had been meaning to ask you about that," he said in a normal volume. Draco glared at him as Pansy looked up curiously from in front of them, turning around a bit in her seat to look.

Neville Longbottom squeaked from the front of the class, gasping in pain as if something had burned him. Pansy turned her attention to him and Snape - who was sneering and slowly explaining to the dense boy what had happened.

Draco rolled his eyes. The potion they were brewing wasn't even supposed to be hot, if made correctly. Nonetheless, he was thankful for the distraction Longbottom provided. He slid the parchment up on to the table discreetly, nodding to it.

"It's magical," Draco began.

"I figured. What does it do?" Harry asked excitedly.

"I think it's a map," Draco responded. "That's what it was. Then, Weasley said "mischief managed," and turned his wand to it. Then everything disappeared. I've been trying to talk it into telling me how to open it, and I've not had much luck."

"Talk it into it?" Harry asked curiously, pulling the paper toward himself curiously.

Draco nodded. "It's a bit like a painting, I think. It holds the memory of four people. I spoke to it some last night."

"What did it say?" Harry murmured, running his fingers along the edge of the parchment. He pulled out his own wand, hovering it over the parchment.

Draco sighed. "Nothing much useful. I tried saying mischief managed, and it sort of flickered to life. Told me I had it backwards, or something. It also told me its name. Or, their names," he said. "They spoke in turns."

"So they didn't tell you how to open it?" Harry asked curiously, frowning at the parchment.

Draco shook his head.

"Did you recognize the names?" he asked, glancing up at the grey-eyed boy.

"No, they weren't real names, anyway."

Harry frowned, looking down at the parchment. "What were they?"

"Made-up names? Prongs and Wormy or something, weird things like that," Draco said flippantly. "They called themselves the Marauders. And a marauder is a sort of thief, or pirate. Someone who steals, or plunders. I'm not really sure what to take from that," he thought aloud, gazing at the ceiling in thought.

Harry tapped the parchment with his wand. "Hello... Prongs?" he said to the parchment.

It remained utterly blank, almost in a mocking fashion. Harry frowned. "What did you say Fred said to it?"

"Mischief managed."

Harry nodded. "I would like to cause mischief?" he asked the parchment in a hopeful - however, still too quiet for any curious ears in the class to hear - tone.

To Draco's delight, a softly scrawled note appeared on the paper.

Mr. Prongs would like to suggest you to say that more confidently.

"Brilliant, of course Harry," Draco said eagerly, beaming down at the parchment as the writing faded away. "You tell it when you're done using it - mischief managed - but you also have to tell it when you want to use it. Brilliant. There must be a specific phrase," he rambled in a whispering voice, snapping up the piece of parchment and grinning at it.

"It must be something more special than a map, if someone went to all this trouble protecting it with magical phrases. And if the Weasley twins had it," Harry mused aloud.

Draco nodded enthusiastically before pausing, and peering over at the clock in the front of the classroom. "We need to finish the potion," he said distractedly, and stuffed the piece of parchment back into his bag. "We'll work on this more later."