"Gryffindor!"

What?

The Gryffindors started cheering. Fred and George started chanting his name just like they had the first time.

Harry pulled the hat off his head, placing it back on the stool. His ears were buzzing. Had—was he in the clear? The hat hadn't said anything to him, but it has also reacted exactly the same way it had before. He sat at the table and faced the front. The next student, Sophie Roper, was mounting the steps, but the Gryffs hadn't stopped cheering. He'd forgot how many people had clapped his back.

Alright... well, that's that done then.

The rest of the feast passed about the same as it had the next time, but he'd made sure to spend a bit more effort pointing out the... issues... with Neville's upbringing and Seamus's dad's secret. He also made sure to hobnob a bit more than he had last time. They were all eleven, sure, but even that little difference in maturity made it so much easier than it had been as St. Grogory's, and besides he knew far too well what not getting to know his classmates did to him; he'd really prefer it if everyone didn't base his entire personality on whatever the Daily Prophet said it was.

All good and/or boring and (as usual) oddly déjà vu-esque things must come to an end, and before long the first year Gryffindors were checking out their brand-new rooms.

At about nine, however, Harry made noises about getting ready for bed, and slipped into the neighboring bathroom.

Almost immediately, though, he slipped from the bathroom into the common room. He had a goal, tonight: one thing he really wanted to get done, and which, thanks to a faintly remembered conversation between him and Ron, he was fairly assured he could do. But it had to be done tonight, for more reasons than one.

From the common room Harry progressed to the hallway, assuring the fat lady that he was just exploring and would be back before curfew.

Two—no, three—staircases later, as well as a series of left turns which, in the muggle world, would have had him going in circles instead of progressing up an additional two floors and crossing about half the castle, Harry got just where he wanted.

And just like he wanted, after pausing in front of a particularly blank section of wall, that wall swung open, revealing the two red headed demons.

"Ah, Forge, look! It's an ickle firstie!"

"And what do you think an ickle firstie is doing here, Gred?"

"Exploring." Harry answered for George. He grinned—here were two people that always made him smile.

"Well, then, ickle firstie, isn't it about time that you finished exploring and headed off to bed? Tiny people like you need a lot of sleep, you know."

Harry didn't bother responding, instead zeroing in on the blank piece of paper in their hands. "What's that?"

"This?" Fred said, waving it in front of Harry's face. "Why, it's just some parchment-"

"-just a little parchment" interjected George,

"Why would you think it was anything else?"

"Because it's really worn and folded up." Harry said. He tilted his head. This was it—he had to do this right. "I bet I know what it is."

"Do you?"

"Does the ickle firstie?"

"Well, Harrikins, what-"

"-exactly-"

"-do you think this still-very-blank sheet of parchment is?"

"I bet," Harry started, "I bet that it's something you're going to show me."

"Oh, do you?"

"Is that what you think?"

"Yep," Harry said, popping the p. "And do you know why?"

"Why?" Both twins asked at once. He could tell they still thought they were humoring him.

"Because if you don't then I won't tell you what I know about the Marauders."

So, here's the thing. Harry really didn't want to be the one to open the map. He needed it to be them—for them to see who, exactly, was sleeping in their baby brother's bed. This wasn't out of any sense of cruelty on his part, but rather because he'd really prefer not to be a figurehead in the debacle that would no doubt follow, and he wanted to put as much distance and deniability between himself and the 'event' as possible. That said, he also really, really wanted to get the Marauder's Map back—both to replicate it, and because at the end of the day it was something that his father had helped make. So, while his plan wasn't ideal for either of his goals, he figured that it worked the best at accomplishing both. And, given the gob smacked expressions on Fred and George's faces, so far his plan was going just fine.

"The Marauders?!" They shouted in unison.

"Yup. I know their names, I know a few of the passages they used, and I know a lot of the ways they avoided blame."

The twins glanced at each other. Harry knew that they already knew the passages (they were, after all, a primary purpose of the map), but he was banking on them being interested enough in who they were and how they (allegedly) avoided punishment that his deal would go through.

"Their name names or their pranking names?" Fred finally asked.

"Both."

"Why us? And why do you think the paper is so important?" George asked.

"I have been here less than a day and already know you're the biggest prankers in school, and honestly? It's less about the parchment and more about getting on your good side." This was only partially a lie—his celebrity and relationship with Ron had meant that they'd never gone out of their way to prank him, but then they did generally stick to pranks which targeted the largest amount of people possible at the time, pranks which were impossible to target, as a rule. He was just banking on them not knowing that he knew that, and assuming they got the better end of the deal because of it.

"Deal!"

It worked. Harry was whisked into (one of) their lairs. Today, he knew thanks to Ron's explanation last time, they were planning a little something to target all the Ravenclaws the next morning—an odd potion which, when put on the steps up to Ravenclaw tower, would stick to their shoes, making it incredibly difficult for them to lift it (artificial weight combined with stickiness, if Ron was to be believed. The twins had explained, once caught, that they'd figured the 'Claws had needed some exercise.)

At the moment they seemed to have already finished the preparations, if the messy cauldrons and half full vials were any hint, which explained why they had been so quick to notice him.

He only had a second to look around, though, before his head was physically turned back to the map (he'd forgotten how unaware of personal space they were.)

"Alright, Harrikens, listen carefully."

"The deal is, you tell us who the Marauders were—both their names—and how they got out of trouble,"

"and we'll show you what deep, dark secrets the parchment is hiding."

"Or—and this is really just an idea, I mean, one that is a deal-breaker, but just an idea nonetheless, how about I give you the names, then you show me the map, then I give you a couple—not all, I still need some leverage for the rest of the year—a couple of the ways they avoided punishment."

The twins took barely a second to decide. "Deal!"

"Now, give us the names of the magnificent,"

"the marvelous,"

"the stupendous,"

"the amazing Marauders! Or we'll kick you out."

Harry sighed and started rattling off the names, making sure not to react overly much to any of them—Pettigrew was a little-known hero of the war, while Black was a little-known villain. Both had been kept out of the media, as a whole, so neither he nor them could be expected to know much at all about either. "Moony is Remus Lupin, Padfoot is Sirius Black, Wormtail is Peter Pettigrew, and Prongs is James Potter, my dad."

"So that's how you know about them!" The twins cried. He'd thought he'd gotten them straight in his head—he'd learned at some point that they would either switch names entirely or try to keep their first initials the same—but at some point he'd confused them again. They then began almost talking over each other in their eagerness to ask questions, but Harry held up his hands before they could really get rolling.

"We had a deal, gentlemen. Now, honor your side of the bargain and at a later date we can see if additional deals can be made for more information."

Fred and George—or George and Fred—nodded eagerly, before turning their attention to the still blank parchment.

"This, ickle firstie, is the Marauder's Map." One started. Harry looked suitably stunned.

"I know!" The other said. "That's why you've got us so eager!"

"Anyway, watch this: We solemnly swear we're up to good." Immediately the parchment sprang to life, and, just as Harry remembered, ink began pouring over the paper to create the symbols that his dad and uncles and the traitor had worked so painstakingly hard on all those years ago.

"See?" One of the twins said. "The entirety of Hogwarts—mapped out! Every secret passage, every nook and cranny, and, most importantly—where everyone is!"

Harry agreed, and his eyes darted around the map frantically. "I see, there's my dorm, and there's—" he stopped, then before the twins could get too curious, finished his sentence. "There's all my dorm mates."

Where was Pettigrew? Everyone else was there—Seamus, Ron, Dean, Neville, even a cat apparently named Tiger, but no Pettigrew. Actually, there was a rat, but it was unnamed, just a tiny little blob on Ron's bed when you zoomed in- "Scabbers" had almost immediately dashed into and fell asleep when they'd entered the dorm, and Harry could tell that the position was the same. So why wasn't Pettigrew's name showing up?

It took Harry almost half an hour to leave the twins after that, given their eagerness to get any drop of the Marauder's wisdom left (they knew, of course, that his father was dead, but they also assumed that the other Marauders were too and Harry did little to correct them.) Still, they let him leave after Harry explained both their habit of pinning the crime on someone else (and the importance, not that they'd considered it at the time, of making sure the scapegoat actually deserved it), as well as mixing up M.O.s as much as possible—all four Marauders excelled in Transfiguration, for instance, so they tried to avoid using it unless they wanted to get caught.

He was back in the Common Room well before curfew and explained away his absence by admitting to having had dropped his lucky pen (he had, actually, dropped a pen to prove this, but when he went looking for it it had disappeared.)

Before long all the lights were out and the other boys, exhausted by the incredibly long day, took almost no time at all to fall fast asleep. Harry, though, had other concerns.

His "Plan B" wasn't really... ideal, by any sense of the imagination, and he wasn't even sure if it would work, but it would get Pettigrew out of the dorm for at least one night, and Harry wasn't really able to sleep with him resting only one bed away.

So when he was absolutely sure that all of his dormmates, as well as his target, were asleep, he carefully and quietly got up, stunning Pettigrew and carrying him by his tail into the common room, where he used the recently re-learned incarcerous spell to bind the fainted rat, placing it carefully in the middle of the table in front of the fire.

Using a bit of scrap paper, and fudging his handwriting by taking his time and writing certain letters differently, he then wrote out a note, which he placed next to Scabbers. It read:

"This rat has been alive for over ten years. Does no one else think that is weird?"

He signed it 'The Renegade'. In order to keep suspicion away from him, though, in addition to his upper level spells and writing, Harry crept up to the fifth years boy's dorms and purposefully banged his knee against something, loud enough so that its residents would recall it, before scampering back down and into bed.

It took him another hour to fall asleep, an hour of waiting with bated breath to see if he had been in some way caught. He was so happy that cats weren't allowed in the common room after curfew—the combination of fear that McGonagall was watching him or some cat would try to eat Sirius's get out of jail free ticket would have been too much otherwise.

But no one charged into the dorm room, or started setting off alarms. So Harry was able to sleep as deeply as he pleased. That is, until about seven o'clock.

At which point a commotion began in the common room, one which was very loud and persisted for such a long time that the entire group of first years had no choice but to clamber out of their still-incredibly-warm beds and see what everyone was shouting about.

There, just as he'd left him the night before, was Pettigrew. But when Ron ran to grab him a seventh-year prefect held him back. Percy, Harry could see out of the corner of his eye, was standing frozen in one of the corners, and the twins were being interrogated by the other seventh-year—apparently they'd spent all of the previous year going through possible names, and one of the final contenders had, in fact, been the renegades (how was Harry supposed to know that?) and so suspicion had initially been placed on them.

Thankfully, though, a few seconds after the first-year girl's dorm also opened, Professor McGonagall burst into the scene.

While Harry feigned confusion and curiosity to Dean, Professor McGonagall quickly further incarcerated the rat in a well transfigured cage, before ushering everyone but the Weasley boys, prefects, and 5th year boys back to their respective dorms. She did, however, haltingly admit that a charm had shown Scabbers to be an animagus, and to expect to have to be interviewed by an auror in the next few days.

Once they were back in the dorm the noise from the rest of the House barely dimmed. In their dorm, however, the mood was a bit different.

"What's an animagus?" Joshua Runcorn asked. Harry barely remembered him, honestly. He'd always been a quiet boy and had spent most days hanging out with his second year Ravenclaw brother David.

"It's, like, it's a person who can, um, turn into an animal. It's really hard to do, so only a few people can do it. Professor McGonagall's one, actually—she can turn into a cat." Neville answered.

"So... there was someone else in this dorm who was sleeping in Ron's bed without anyone knowing it?" Harry asked.

"It's worse than that." Seamus said. "Ron told me that Scabbers had been Percy's before it was his."

All of the boys made faces.

"That... really sucks." Dean said. They all sat in silence, the idea of someone—an adult, in all likelihood—being in their room, sleeping in Ron's bed.

"We have to make a pact." Harry announced. "A pact to never, ever tease Ron about this, and to only bring it up if he wants to. We owe it to him as, like, fellow humans." Neville, Dean, Joshua, and Seamus nodded.

After a few minutes of debating and squabbling, they sat cross-legged in a circle and took the farthest hand of each neighboring boy, crossing their own arms as they did so. Solemnly each boy swore one by one, then all as a group, that none would ever bully another for anything that they couldn't control. It was a noticeably broader oath than Harry had initially thought he'd get, but the first iteration— "we swear not to make Ron feel bad about the animagus rat"— was deemed to narrow and Dean had suggested one which would work for future crappy situations too.

After they'd completed their oath via spiting on their hands and exchanging very formal handshakes the boys settled down for a few games of exploding snap—the noise through the walls had dimmed somewhat, but it had been made quite clear that they weren't allowed to leave until given permission, and they still hadn't even been given their schedules.

As Harry played, however, his thoughts began to wander. He'd had a few vague plans brewing in his mind over the last few days, and it was time to solidify them enough so that they became goals.

The first and most important thing, in his mind, was to reintroduce himself to Hagrid. The half-giant had been the one to give him his first birthday cake, to buy him his first pet, to attend every single game he ever played even though it was hard for him to squeeze his way up the stairs to the stands. Harry's much more prompt response, and admission of lack of knowledge, had ensured that they had yet to have a reason to talk, however, and Harry thought it was important to change that.

-First Friend—Reintroduce yourself to Hagrid, the first person you considered a friend (150 XP)

Well, apparently it wasn't as important as he'd thought—at least not for the game. Still, he'd try to do that this afternoon if the aurors didn't end up taking all of his time.

The next most important thing also related to past friendships more than actually necessary goals, but that didn't mean Harry cared about her any less.

-Winged Companion—Reobtain Hedwig (150 XP)

He figured he could explain her away by saying he wanted to be able to talk to his family; Hogwarts supplied school owls, yes, but they were three knuts per use, which was why so many students ended up buying their own.

Finally...

-First Impressions—Have your professors assume you are good, but not top of class, based on your first class with each (250 XP each)

It had taken him a while to decide what he wanted to accomplish in his first classes (to stand out? To hide in the background? To excel in certain classes and waver in others?), but he thought that this would be the best way to go about it. Introductions are important, after all.

Before he had any more time to think of whatever else he hadn't though of, though, Neville's stomach growled. Loudly.

"What time is it?" Seamus asked. He stood up and peeked through the door while Harry checked his wristwatch. It was quite old but still accurate and, most importantly, it wasn't affected by magic.

"Um... 8:30." He said.

"Breakfast ends in a half an hour!" Joshua whined. "And we need to go back here and grab our books before our first class, too." The other boys nodded.

"Seamus, you see anything?" Dean said.

"Completely empty. Do you think we should just make a run for it? Not feeding us is inhumane, I tell you!"

Harry was tempted to agree. Technically breakfast started at 7:30, and they'd been stuck in their dorm since 7:15. They hadn't even been able to use the bathroom—they shared one with the second and third year boys, and the only entrance was in the hallway.

"How about we just take a couple of the books each? That way, no matter where we end up, we'll just share the books between ourselves. If we skip washing up in the bathroom, that should give us time to eat." Harry said.

"My brother said that you're usually paired up in groups of two in classes." Joshua offered, so the five boys set off getting three copies of all six textbooks. It was decided that each group would pair off and each boy would carry three books, that way they knew that everyone would have the right books at the start of class. Seamus and Dean paired up, as did Neville and Joshua. Harry volunteered to carry all six of his books—it had been his idea in the first place—and would therefore be sitting next to Ron.

Plan complete, the boys carefully crept into the Common Room. Many of the other dorm room doors were ajar, and they could see faces peeking out of all of them, likely just as hungry as they were, but none of the other students were bold enough to leave after being explicitly told not to.

The second they got into the hall all five boys dashed off, with Harry in the lead (he'd sworn he remembered the route they'd taken the day before, and been deemed their best bet for arriving at the Grand Hall in time.) The first years banged down the stairs, stormed through a couple hallways, and swept around left and right turns alike, until at last they dashed into the Great Hall, each and every one out of breath.

Three of the four tables were full of students, but the one they were headed for had not a soul on it (except for Nearly Headless Nick, who was hovering around the middle and exclaimed when he saw them.)

The eyes of the entire hall on them were daunting, but after Dean whispered "house of the brave" under his breath each boy somehow found the courage to scrabble onto the benches of the Gryffindor table, quickly serving themselves whichever foods they'd thought they could scarf down the fastest (Harry may have known the way to the Great Hall, but there was no way he could claim knowledge of how to get to History of Magic, which was supposed to be their first class, so they needed as much wiggle room as possible.)

As Harry quickly cut up his sausages he glanced at the head table. Out of all the professors, McGonagall, Dumbledore, and Snape were notably absent, and he began to wonder if perhaps they should have stayed in their room after all, growling stomachs or no.

Before long, however, the rest of the table began to fill with equally ravenous students, and by the time that Professors Flitwick and Sprout were handing out schedules the Gryffindor table was almost as full as the others.

Finally, with only five minutes left until the start of first period and most of the rest of the Hall empty (including the Slytherins, oddly enough, but then he couldn't actually remember them being given their schedules in the dining hall in the past; it was entirely possible that Snape had given them their timetables the night before), Professor McGonagall burst through the doors, looking as out of breath as all of her house had just minutes before.

"There you are! I thought I told you to stay in your dorms!" She snapped. One of the seventh-years reluctantly stood up.

"You did, but... well, we knew breakfast was nearly over, and... there wasn't really anyone to ask permission from, so, we just kind of went."

Aw, she hadn't thrown them under the bus! Well, honestly that was probably because 'we were just following the first-year boys' wasn't a particularly good excuse, but still!

Professor McGonagall sighed. "All Gryffindors have been excused from their first class, anyway. The aurors will be calling out a few people over the next hour, so you'll have to stay in the Great Hall, but I assure you you will get your schedules by ten." With that she whipped around again, darting back into the hallway.

"Alright! No first class! Now that's a way to start school!" Seamus said. Harry, Dean, and Joshua laughed.

"If it's all the same to you I'd like it to be a bit more normal from now on." Neville muttered, but that only made them laugh harder.