"Colovaria" Morgan muttered, tapping her robe with her wand. With a shimmer, the gold lining washed away into a deep crimson, same as any other Gryffindors. The spell wouldn't last long - she wasn't skilled enough to make it last for more than an hour yet - but it would be enough.
Then she merely waited, around the corner from where the fat lady's portrait hung concealing the entrance to Gryffindor Tower, looking like nothing more than your average Gryffindor first year.
Unless she was mistaken, the Gryffindor third years we're currently in potions class. Of all the times when the map would be within the twins' room, this was the most likely. It was hard to imagine them taking the map into Snape's dungeon.
It wasn't hard to follow another student into the common room, though the fat lady did give her a bit of a suspicious look. That was why she had to do this now, while everyone was still unfamiliar with the first years. As long as she avoided them, there should be no problems.
Hm, the Gryffindor Tower wasn't a bad place. Indeed, she would have had no complaints had she been sorted a Gryffindor. Plush, burgundy chairs were dotted around the circular room, placed around either tables or the fireplace, a thick carpet muffling her footsteps as she walked into the room. Crimson tapestries hung from the walls, emblazoned with bright gold lions and small, silver swords.
It was comfortable, yet tinged by nobility. It had a grandeur that was lacking in the relatively humble Hufflepuff common room. Especially the static portrait of Godric Gryffindor hanging above the fireplace, looking down upon her with a stern look. There was no consciousness - none of the founders had living portraits of themselves - but it lent a certain air of history to the room regardless.
She gave a small smile to the few occupants of the room that bothered to glance at her, before spinning on her heel and striding towards the stairs to the boys dormitories.
Confidence, that was all it took. Merely acting like she belonged to House Gryffindor allowed her to walk throughout without challenge. Godric was probably rolling in his grave.
She had no trouble walking up the steps, not that she expected any. It was a foolish idea that boys couldn't enter the girls' dorms while girls could enter the boys', a carry over from centuries ago that was only implemented within Gryffindor, thanks to Godric. Still, she wouldn't look a gift horse in the mouth.
The third years dorm was the third door up and was, as she expected, empty. It was a fairly standard room, she wasn't surprised there. But there was one thing that annoyed her.
The room was practically spotless. The house elves didn't clean the bedrooms, that was up to the occupants alone. Oh, they would wash laundry and bed sheets etc, but only after you yourself had placed them in the laundry room.
She glared at it. How was it that a room with half a dozen teenage boys managed to be cleaner than hers?
No, wait, she knew the answer to that one. She'd thought it might be normal for children to be messy - Su notwithstanding - but clearly she'd been too lenient with them. No, with her. She and Hannah would be having a few quiet words after this.
Well, she guessed she should get started, since there was no telling exactly what time someone could return.
It took her awhile, but she managed to find the map, hidden under one of the pillows on a bed. It was probably too much to hope that the twins hadn't figured out what it was yet, but oh well.
She gazed at it hungrily, eyes gleaming with glee and her hands shaking slightly with excitement. The parchment was yellow and crisp beneath her fingers, smelling like old books.
The poor fools. Did they have any idea of what this was worth? And to think, they were using it to prank people. Such a… waste.
A way of tracking the locations of everyone in the castle. A wide smile rose upon her face as she caressed the parchment. Oh, the plans she had for this map.
She slowly drew her wand from her robe, tapping the parchment. "I solemnly swear that I am up to no good" she whispered. And slowly, words writ in ink spread across the front.
Messrs Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs
Purveyors of Aids to Magical Mischief-Makers
are proud to present
THE MARAUDER'S MAP
"Wonderful" she said softly. She could see the locations of everyone, could see every hidden passage and secret entrance. A method of surveillance that was almost absolute, save for the few locations not on the map like the Chamber of Secrets.
There was Dumbledore in his office, Harry in the Great Hall with Ron, Hagrid in his hut out on the edge of the grounds and Filch hiding in a secret hallway near the Fat Lady's portrait. She could even - rather jealously - see Tonks getting laid in the prefects bathroom. Privacy simply didn't exist to someone with this map.
She was so engrossed that it was only thanks for checking the location of Peter Pettigrew that she noticed the Weasley twins entering the Gryffindor common room.
Quickly putting the map in her pocket, she left the room, running into the Weasley twins on the stairs.
They were different from the movies, though not by much. Lankier, with hair the colour of bright copper tousled up messily and a few freckles upon their noses, wearing outfits that matched even down to the individual potion stains upon their shirts. They gave her a puzzled look as she passed, smiling at them.
"What's a girl doing in the boys dorms?" asked one from behind her.
"Don't ask me, I didn't even know girls could go into the boys' dorm."
"We're not allowed into the girls'. Seems a mite unfair now, eh Fred?"
"Right you are. Downright sexist, in fact. We should take this up with McGonagall, tell her we want the same rights the girls get."
"Good idea, we haven't had a detention with her since last year. She must be missing us by now..."
Their voices faded out as she stepped into the common room, heading towards the portrait. It swung open with a touch, the hallway beyond empty.
She supposed she should just keep walking, but… It just didn't feel right. Anticlimactic. With them about to discover the missing map, it wouldn't take much to discover she was the one that took it - she wasn't a Gryffindor, after all. The conclusion was obvious, she might as well enjoy the confrontation now, when she could direct it so easily.
So she waited, leaning up against the portrait hole. It took a minute but, as she expected, the twins eventually came running down the stairs looking panicked.
She gave them a grin before jumping beyond the portrait, swinging it shut behind her. Walking at a brisk pace, she smiled as she saw the lining of her robes turn golden, just in time for the twins to burst through the portrait, wands in hand. Two red jets of light shot at her, but she'd already reached a corner, giving them a small wink before they lost sight of each other.
"Well, Mr Filch. Looks like I'll need you after all. Do try not to enjoy this too much."
From completely featureless stretch of wall came Filch, the wall rippling like water as he walked through it. He was smiling, twisting a tough bit of leather between his hands. "No promises" he said.
She waited next to him as the twins ran around the corner. The look on their faces when they saw Filch were simply priceless, quickly paling and mouths gaping into a terrified rictus.
"Wealseys!" shouted Filch, cracking the leather against his palm. "Attacking first years in the hallway now, are you?"
For a second they just stared, before something clicked back into gear. "Shit- this- Filch- this isn't what it looks like!"
"Really? Because it looks to me like you were trying to stun a little girl in the hallway" he growled, glaring fiercely enough that she could almost see the sweat beading their faces.
"She stole from us!"
"Yeah, we just want what she took back!"
Filch looked down at her, raising an eyebrow. "Is that right?"
"They seem to think this parchment here belongs to them" she said, pulling out the map. Their eyes flicked from the map the Filch and back, a slow realisation coming to their faces.
"That's funny. I recognise that parchment. I gave it to you, didn't I?" He slowly looked each twin in the eye, giving them time to sweat as they realised how screwed they were.
This, right here, was easily worth not simply paying them for the map. Really, this was just… so much more satisfying.
"Attacking a first year in the hallway, trying to steal her property. Oh, I think Minerva might like to hear about this. Maybe even get you expelled, wouldn't that be fun."
Now they really were sweating, it was hilarious. If only they knew it was all an act. "Well then, Mr Filch. I'll be heading back to my dorm" she said, grinning at the twins as Filch slowly walked towards them.
They glared at her, expression caught between hate and horror at Filch's advancing grin. With a curtsy - that caused ones wand to twitch at her - she turned on her heel, heading back to the Hufflepuff dorms feeling much happier than when she left.
She was regretting this already. Why had she chosen to come back to this dorm? It was rapidly becoming a permanent source of anger.
The room was a disaster zone. Hannah and Megan's beds were a mess, she didn't think they'd been made in days. Clothes were scattered across the carpet, seemingly thrown without care for where they landed. She wrinkled her nose as she kicked a used bra out of her path, glaring at dirty clothes strewn around.
It was made worse by the fact that half of it seemed to be her own clothes, which she was certain weren't there when she left.
Leanne and Susan were on their own beds, the former drawing in a notebook while the latter watched her with a pale face, frantically waving her hand towards the main source of her irritation.
The trunk at the foot of her bed was open, her belongings thrown all over as Hannah dug through, seemingly without a care in the world as Morgan stood just behind her.
She could almost feel the goosebumps on her arms as she spotted the shiny black metal buried in her trunk, so far unnoticed. If Hannah had got a hold of that, she could have easily killed herself.
Best to make sure this lesson stuck.
"Susan! You've got to come look at this!" Hannah yelled to the frozen Susan, pulling out a pair of… her underwear.
She pinched her nose, breathing deeply. Couldn't kill nosey little girls for doing what she should have anticipated. If she repeated that long enough, maybe it would stop sounding so appealing.
"Woah" she breathed. "I didn't even know they made stuff like this for kids."
Morgan leaned down until her head was next to Hannah's, watching as she stretched the lacey black knickers between her hands. "They don't. But with enough gold, well, Madam Malkin was perfectly willing to have some tailor made" she said, as though commenting on the weather.
Hannah nodded, a curious frown on her face. "I don't get it. It's not like anyone's going to see them. Why would Morgan want to-" she froze, turning to look at her like a deer caught in some headlights.
She plucked them from her hand. "Well, to answer your questions, I wouldn't say no-one will ever see them. And I like wearing attractive underwear." She looked at Hannah, taking in her frozen form. "Hmm? What's wrong, Miss Abbott? Please, help yourself. You seemed to be having so much fun digging through my belongings" she finished sharply.
Hannah at least had the grace to look guilty. She stuttered, fumbling for a response before turning to Susan. "Susan! I thought you were keeping watch…" she whined.
Susan shook her head at Morgan's unamused face. "I told her not to! I told her it was wrong, she just wouldn't listen!"
Morgan sighed, glaring at Hannah fidgeting nervously. "Well Miss Abbott? Don't you have something to say?"
"Err, umm, I'm sorry?"
"You're… sorry? Do you know, Miss Abbott, that I was having a really good day today? I came back to this room in a good mood, and you know what I found?" She grabbed Hannah's head, slowly turning it towards the mess scattered throughout the room. "This room, my room, is a dump. And to top it off, half of this mess is apparently mine, and I don't remember causing it. Someone appears to have thrown my clothes all over the room while prying through my trunk like a common thief."
Happily, Hannah was looking more and more ashamed the longer she talked. It was a little soothing.
Grabbing her by her cheeks, Morgan pulled her in close. "So, you say you're sorry? Then I suppose you'll be happy to make it up to me, no?" she said, squeezing Hannah's cheeks until her lips were squished into a pout.
She quickly nodded.
"Wonderful. Then you can start by cleaning up the entire room. Make the beds, put the clothes away, I want this room spotless" she said, letting go.
Hannah took a relieved breath before realisation flashed in her eyes, blurting "But I can't! I don't know how!"
Didn't know how? She was asking her to clean up, how can you not know how? She could only blink at her, unable to accept what she had just heard. "You… don't know how?"
Frantic nodding was Hannah's response. "I haven't been taught those spells yet."
She could almost feel something snapping inside her, her face going completely blank. Slowly, she pulled Hannah close, reaching up and lightly wrapping her hands around her neck. "Miss Abbott" she started, voice dark, "you either figure it out using your hands or I swear on God's name that I will throttle you."
"Okay! Understood! I'll do it! Please stop glaring! Oh Merlin look at her face. Susan, I think she's gonna eat me!"
Hannah practically vanished from her grip, buzzing around the room and tidying as fast as she could.
Morgan could feel her hands shaking slightly, clenching and unclenching them. She hadn't expected sharing a room with young girls to be such a miserable experience. She could never seem to just… relax. To have a moment to herself. If she was reading a book, then she got constant questions about it from Susan. If she was practicing magic, then everyone would gather to bug her about it. And worst of all, whenever she tried to… enjoy some privacy, then someone would hear her and barge in to ask if she was okay, whether she was in her bed with the curtains drawn or in the shower. She hadn't been this frustrated in years. If it wasn't for an experiment she was running on Maria, she would have used the map and gone to spend some time with her.
Children, honestly. There was a reason she had planned on waiting a couple years before making friends with any of them.
As though God had heard her exasperation, the door to the dorm flew open, allowing another annoyance to storm in.
She bet it was raining as well, just to completely crush her good mood.
Megan was filthy. Wearing a blue Quidditch outfit - of a team she assumed was her older sisters - she quickly began stripping herself and throwing muddy clothes in all directions.
Megan was a very outdoorsy person. Her older sister had encouraged a love for Quidditch within her, inspiring her own dreams to be a professional player. It was just a shame that she hadn't also taught her about hygiene.
Watching her put on clean clothes when her body was filthy was going to give her an aneurysm.
She threw her arm over Megan's shoulder. "Miss Jones~" she crooned. "Don't you think you should get a shower before getting changed?"
Megan frowned at her. "I don't need one" she said, turning her nose up.
"Oh?"
"I'm just going to get dirty again, so there's no point."
She was in hell. All she could do was gape at such… such childish logic. Whoever raised her should be crucified. And now that she looked…
Megan was a tall girl, at least half a head higher than herself, with a slim figure that was more toned than a normal child's. But her hair… It had always seemed rather messy. Like a pitch black nest for birds to roost in. She'd assumed it was just her natural hair, but with a closer look she could see it was actually grease that was causing it.
Children were animals.
"Have you… have you been in the shower even once since you got here?" Her power was roiling within her. She just wanted to burn the filth off the little cretin. But she was just eleven. She just had to keep chanting that in her mind.
She got a proud look on her face. "Nope. I don't want one. I hate them! And now my mom isn't here to make me take one."
She didn't look so proud when Morgan dragged her by her greasy hair kicking and screaming to the bath and practically drowned her in it.
Godric's Hollow was a small village, nestled in the English countryside amongst low-rolling hills and grassland. Once mostly Muggle occupied, the houses were now lived in by wealthier wizardkind families, attracted by the villages history.
It had been changed though. The smooth asphalt and concrete roads of the muggles had been replaced by tight-fitted cobblestone, with the houses having been renovated into an old look that was quickly becoming popular throughout the country.
There weren't many people about in the evening light. The few that were barely gave her a passing glance, but even that was enough to make her feel greasy when it came from a man.
Memories were once again flitting to the front of her mind, so Penelope turned to Rita for a distraction. Unlike her own outfit - a knee length navy skirt and concealing silver jumper - Rita was dressed much more revealingly, in a lime green skirt that came to mid thigh and matching button-up blouse showing a small amount of cleavage, carrying a red handbag.
"You seem pretty fucking happy compared to earlier" she said. Compared to the drunkard that had opened the door and weeped at a little slap, the current Rita stood tall and confident, her heels even making her taller than herself.
Rita glanced sharply at her from behind her rhinestone studded glasses, lips bright with red lipstick sneering at her. "Of course I do you silly girl. Do you know what this is? What this story represents?" Her eyes gained a faraway look. "Fame, fortune, if this story is true then nothing will be beyond my reach. Dumbledore: Secret lover and inspiration of Grindelwald? Dumbledore: Dark Lord?" Her face took on a flushed look, eyes bright with excitement. "Ooh~, The Life and Lies of Albus Dumbledore…" She shook her head, focusing back upon Penelope. "This story is what I've been waiting for my entire life."
"Worth what Morgan did to you?" she asked, disturbingly fascinated at the way Rita just… bounced back like she did. It made her a little envious.
"By far" she shot back. "I've done unsavoury things to advance my career before. For a story this big, if it's true, then I would do worse things for it. I have done worse than that. In fact… Yes, what me and Morgan did wasn't particularly unusual in this business. I've done it before… Just another sacrifice to further my career… A little bigger sacrifice, but bigger rewards, right…" she trailed off, mumbling under her breath with glazed eyes.
Penelope could only watch with a sickened expression. Was this what allowed her to bounce back so quickly? Just… rationalising everything away?
Rita snapped out of it as they passed a ruin of a house. The house where Harry Potter became the boy-who-lived, preserved in the same condition as it had been when you-know-who was destroyed.
"I don't understand why he's so famous. What's the point of keeping this shitty little wreck around? It's not like stopping Voldemort changed anything" Penelope spat bitterly.
Rita's head snapped around to glare at her. "Don't say such stupid things." She turned back to look pensively at the ruined house. "You weren't there. You don't understand what it was like. You-know-who…" she said faintly, gripping her handbag in a tight, white-knuckled grip, her face paling with fear.
Jerking, Rita strode over to the next building, a small detached house that still bore it's Muggle appearance. The dark wooden door held a small brass knocker, tarnished and scratched from the years, that she quickly rapped against the door, then pulled out a bright acid green quill and a notebook from her handbag.
It was opened by a short teenager, a young baby-faced boy probably around fourteen, with mousy brown hair, numerous spots, and clothes that looked half slept in. He didn't seem too threatening, but her hand nevertheless instinctively reached into her skirt pocket, gripping the ash wand.
Rita's attitude completely switched at his appearance, flashing a bright smile at his surprised face. "Hi. Rita Skeeter, of The Daily Prophet. Is Bathilda available? I was told she lived here."
A look of fear crossed his face when she mentioned her name. "Err- no, she's not here- I mean, she lives here, but she's not here right now" he stammered out, nervously looking at her quill. She watched as Rita scribbled gibberish upon the paper, not that he could see that.
"I see. That's a shame. Do you know when she'll be back? Or, perhaps, where she went?"
"Umm- no, she just left- I mean, she told me she was going on holiday, and paid me to look after her cat when I'm not at school, but- err- she never said much about it."
"Really? Just up and left one day for a holiday? Seems rather sudden for such an old lady." She punctuated her statement with a sharp swipe of her quill, the boy flinching slightly.
"Well, I mean, she wasn't old anymore" he said, a queasy look on his face. "Chugged a gallon of Malfoys youth potion. She just- like- have you ever seen a wrinkled old lady drink that stuff?"
Rita's notebook snapped close, eyeing up the boy. "I see." Looking contemplative for a moment, she asked "I don't suppose you could invite us in for some tea perhaps? It's been a long day for us, we could use a little refreshment before we headed off."
"Er, I don't think that's a good idea. I mean, not that I think you'll do anything bad!" He quickly said. "It's just, well, she won't be too happy if she ever finds out. She gets really touchy about her privacy…"
Rita paused, eyeing the boy up from head to toe. Then, she smiled, leaning forward to play with the top done up button of her top. "Are you sure?" She asked, voice husky. "We won't be long, and she'll never know. It's only for a quick drink. And I'm sure a young man like yourself could use some company, cooped up here all alone…"
Penelope glared at him as his eyes glued onto the view down Rita's top, gripping her wand tight enough to almost hear the wood creak.
"I guess it's fine…"
"Excellent" she said, straightening up. "After you."
He blinked, seeming to realise what he had been doing and blushing furiously. "Err, right, just follow me."
As they followed him into the hallway beyond the threshold of the door, Penelope could feel the tickle of magic wash over her skin, prickling at her for a moment before disappearing. If what she felt was right, then it was likely an anti-intruder charm of some kind.
He led them into a small living room, leaving them to themselves while he went to make drinks.
There was a sofa and a couple arm chairs around the room, but she kept standing, unwilling to let go of her wand.
She didn't like being kept in a small space like this with a boy, especially one old enough to have urges. She felt like a locked bludger, every muscle tense and sense on edge.
"It's true" she heard Rita whisper. She was standing at the fireplace, looking at one of the pictures placed upon it. In it was a handsome teenager, with wavy blonde hair that reached to his shoulders, piercing blue eyes and a well defined face, smiling brightly at them. She locked eyes with the picture and felt her heart beat as his expression went cold, eyes menacing and probing before disappearing as quickly as it came.
Gellert Grindelwald. She remembered his face from her history textbook. The man that was considered the greatest dark lord in the world before Voldemort rose up, currently locked up in Nurmengard.
He was stood with another boy, their arms over each others shoulders as they smiled at the camera. This one had bright ginger hair and twinkling blue eyes, with a more innocent, youthful face than Grindelwald.
Dumbledore. She didn't know how Morgan knew about this, but she supposed she didn't really care.
Rita quickly pulled out her wand, tapping the picture. Her wand tip lit up blue, the picture shimmering as though covered by heat waves, before it seemed to split in two, producing a copy that Rita quickly snapped into her handbag as the boy entered back into the room, holding a tray with small chinaware tea cups placed upon it.
"Thank you" Rita said, smiling as she took a tea cup. Sitting on the sofa, she patted the cushion next to her. "Why don't you sit down. Though I was hoping to interview Bathilda, I would be very grateful for any questions you could answer."
The boy gulped as Rita used her arms to push up her breasts slightly, plopping himself down next to her, struggling to keep his eyes on her face.
She didn't know how he could be so oblivious to the manipulation, but he was a boy, she shouldn't be surprised he was blinded by some sex appeal.
"Now, what can you tell me about Bathilda?"
Honestly? I can't believe it's been this long again. Life gets away sometimes. For anyone still following, I'm going to try to get more regular updates out from now on.
