Wolf stared at the parchment, yellowing slightly at the edges, that Harry thrust at him. "What's this?" he asked, staring at the blank parchment in a bewildered state of puzzlement. "Do you want me to take notes or something?" He reached for the quill and ink-bottle in the small pouch he carried at his side, but Harry grabbed his arm to stop him. "What?"

"This is not any piece of parchment!" Harry said, adopting an indignant pose. "This, my friend, is your inheritance. You will then pass it on to another third-year in your fifth-year. George and Fred Weasely, you know them, right? Ron's mischievous brothers! They passed us this map in their fifth year and we're passing it to you to memorize."

"Um, Harry? This isn't a map," Wolf said, pointing at the blank parchment. "This is an empty sheet of parchment."

"Ah, but you'll see," Ron remarked. He snatched the map and tapped it with his wand. Rolling his eyes to the ceiling in a somber fashion, he stated in a clear and pompous voice, "I solemnly swear that I am up to no good."

"Messrs Moony, Padfoot, Wormtail, and Prongs proudly present The Marauder's Map?" Wolf read out loud. Harry and Ron slapped their hands over his mouth to keep him quiet.

"People can hear you, you know!" Harry hissed. "You know, Ron, I think we were worried that we couldn't pass on George's and Fred's tradition. None of the third-years - "

"Except Ginger."

" - Really stood up to the standards," Harry finished as they let Wolf go. Wolf grabbed the map out of Ron's hands and scanned over it. "You'll like this map, Wolf. See? Look, Snape's boiling what looks to be a deflating draught in the dungeons. The first-years must be studying that stuff." Harry's finger tapped a section of Hogwarts on the map where dungeons had been drawn and a little Snape was patiently brewing a potion.

Potions class was one of Wolf's most boring subjects because he already knew the material. When he had been younger, he had spent hours with his nose in books, learning the different ingredients of several different potions. He knew how to do a rudimentary Wolfsbane potion, but he hadn't the right materials for his transformations, so it was generally worthless knowledge.

"Oh, I forgot!" Ron said, slapping his forehead. "To clear this thing so a teacher doesn't find out, you say 'Mischief managed' and tuck it in your robes. The funniest things happen if you try to break into the map. Watch." He set the map down on the desk in front of him and tapped it once. "Reveal yourself!"

Mr. Prongs sends his greetings and remarks that you have dirt on your nose.

Mr. Padfoot also sends his greetings and wonders what time dinner will be served. And that you should try the actual words instead of lousy charms.

Mr. Moony sends his highest greetings, but would also like to remark that you have an abnormally large nose and should not stick it in our business.

Mr. Wormtail would like to send his greetings as well. Mind your own business, you dirty rat!

"How insulting," Ron muttered. He grinned and brightened suddenly and handed the map to Wolf. "You try."

Wolf repeated Ron's procedure and watched in amazement as new words scrolled across the parchment.

Mr. Prongs sends his greetings (again) and would like to ask, "Haven't we just been though this?"

Mr. Padfoot wants to know why we are doing this again, as well. You really should learn the first time. Repetitiveness really does NOT work, as they tried to teach us.

Mr. Moony wonders about you. How long has it been since your accident? Greetings to all readers and do tolerate crankiness. The paper ripped in the left corner.

Mr. Wormtail remarks that you really need to brush your hair, filthy Wolf!

"This Wormtail guy isn't the nicest in the world, is he?" Wolf asked, watching as the ink faded to nothingness. He rolled the parchment up and put it gently into his pouch, awaiting an answer.

"Terrible guy. Met him a couple years back. He's now working as a servant for Voldemort. Betrayed Harry's parents, which led to them being killed. Prongs was Harry's father. Moony was Lupin. Wormtail was a man named Peter Pettigrew. And Padfoot is Sirius Black." Ron's eyes didn't focus on anybody in the empty classroom as he informed Wolf of all the past events.

The door swung open and Hermione charged in. "Where's the map?" she panted, breathless. She held the notes that Wolf had seen earlier. "These are false! They were meant to deceive Snape all those years ago!"

Wolf extracted the Marauder's Map and passed it to Hermione. Hermione took it and said, "We solemnly swear that we wish to become Animagni."

Everybody in the room gaped at the Marauder's Map as it scrolled down through pages of notes, diagrams and drawings. "Whoa," Ron whispered. "Not even Fred or George knew it could do that!"

"They never bothered to ask, did they?" Hermione muttered, picking up the thick parchment, which was now rolled, and patting it gently. "We now have the key."

"How did you know?" Harry asked, amazed.

Hermione dropped the notes that the four mischief-makers had written onto a table and stabbed a line of thin writing with her index finger.

Ha, ha, Snape! You've gotta be kidding! Us, Animagni? Me? I couldn't figure it out. Only the Marauders can tell you that!

"That's Lupin's writing," Harry remarked. "He's not lying. He never did figure out how to become an Animagnus! He was a werewolf, which meant that he didn't have to!" He rubbed a hand through his hair and grinned. "Purely genius, Hermione!"

Hermione looked flattered.

*******************
"Anybody up for a game of exploding snap?" Harry asked, yawning as he entered the Common Room. It was about three o'clock in the afternoon, but a heavy snowstorm was keeping the area dark and all the torches were burning brightly.

"Sure," Wolf said, looking up from where he was perched over an ink-blotted sheet of parchment. Before the storm, a large barn owl had swooped in and dropped a large roll of parchment onto Wolf's head. He'd opened it to discover the recipe to a Wolfsbane potion and a map of the area in case he needed to travel. "I'm just trying to figure out some equations here. I've been struck by an idea, but I'm not sure exactly what it is yet."

"I can't right now. I'm finishing these plans. You might be interested in reading over these quidditch plans," Ron said, slapping the stack he was hunched over with the back of his left hand. He didn't bother to look up.

Hermione didn't say anything from where she was curled up in a cozy chair with The Marauder's Map. Harry shrugged at Wolf and went over to talk to Ron about the quidditch plans.

"Ah-ha! Look at this!" Wolf's triumphant shout was unexpected and even Hermione jumped. "Take a look at this, will ya?"

"What?" Hermione asked, looking peevish.

"I think I may have found a big development in the history of werewolves everywhere." Wolf grinned broadly and showed his friends his notes.

*******************
The dark figure paced restlessly in front of the fireplace. Turning slightly, he felt the warmth cloud over his face, dapple across his front, warm down even to his thighs. He was robed in a sinister, hooded monk's robe, which contradicted with his nature. He was definitely not a monk.

"Call in Peter, will you?" he growled to the guards waiting patiently by the doorway. One nodded, shutting his eyes, and gestured sharply for the other to fetch the small, pudgy man.

"Master?" came a timid call a few moments later. The balding man flung himself at his master's feet, nearly blubbering in fear.

"Stop blubbering, you fool! I've got a mission for you, that's all, you coward! You're to go to Hogwarts and find all that you can about this new prospect, get me? Larry must have some use of him!"

"H-Hogwarts, sir?" blubbered the squat man.

"Yes, Hogwarts! Now get moving!"

********************
"Why didn't somebody figure this out before you did? I mean, no offense, but you're thirteen? There are trained professionals in this area!" Ron said dubiously, looking at Wolf's scrawled notes as they crowded around.

"Not really. Werewolves are overlooked. The Wolfsbane Potion was only created three years ago and hasn't really been messed with since. The guy that created it was murdered shortly afterwards and his best friend circulated the potion around. Invisibility spells are not common, therefore this information could be slipped over easily."

"Interesting point," Harry muttered.

"I've looked this over and there's only two conditions under which my potion could work. If it is injected with a needle into the victim within 48 hours of the bite or scratch and if the victim is, unfortunately, a muggle." Wolf's face as he said this was hard.

"You realize what you've done here, Wolf? You've created hope for those people who have no idea what's going on around them!" Harry was amazed.

They were interrupted by a loud crash from the fireplace. Ginger herself rolled out, covered in soot and coughing. "Rough landing there," she explained between fits of coughing. "I missed the 'Express, so I had to travel by way of Floo powder. Dumbledore wasn't thrilled when I landed in his fireplace. I had to switch landings."

Wolf was hastily rolling up his paperwork. Sending Harry a look of pleas to distract Ginger, he half fled with the notes to his dormitory room and dumped them on his four-poster bed before returning to the Common Room.

"What's your favorite animal, Ron?" Hermione was asking in a blithe tone when Wolf emerged from his dormitory.

"I'm rather fond of the hawk myself," Ron said, dusting an imaginary fleck off of his shoulder. "What about you, Harry?"

"My father always liked the stag. I think I might, too. After all, it's protected me before. And you, Hermione?"

"I don't have a favorite," Hermione muttered. Crookshanks hopped onto her lap and butted his head imperiously in her face, ginger fur spreading across the front of her robes. "Thank you, Crook."

They all heard the portrait swing open and the sound of a lot of voices and exchanged looks as they scurried around to grab notes that they'd left lying out. Grabbing the unrolled parchment in messy bundles, they transported them to the trunks and breathed in relief. Seamus Finnigan, a fifth-year boy that shared a room with Ron and Harry, burst into the room, laughing at a joke Dean Thomas had told him.

Ginger, sitting next to Wolf and staring at the fire, mumbled an excuse to see her boyfriend Ian. She left the room, Wolf watching thoughtlessly. "Wolf!" Hermione's fingers snapped in his face. "Wake up! Ron, Harry, and I have decided to go for a butterbeer and discuss some plans. Wanna come?"

"Sure," Wolf said, and hurried to get his cloak.