Chapter Nineteen

The Secret of the Marauder's Map

Tea and cakes followed the funeral ceremony. Percy's family and friends sat around the Weasleys' backyard, talking softly amongst themselves. Harry was glad to hear Charlie sharply admonishing a small group of mourners who were whispering fervently and glancing every so often at Tabitha, Harry, and Dumbledore. Ron seemed embarrassed to have cried during the ceremony, but Hermione tearfully assured him that it was quite all right.

Next morning, Harry woke to the sounds of a heated argument. Ron, Fred, George, Ginny, and Hermione were huddled around the door, holding up long, rubbery, flesh-colored strings—Extendable Ears.

"Wha—?"

"Shh," George said. "We're only just barely able to make out what everyone's sa—"

"Shh, George! You just missed that bit about Tabitha."

"Bit? The whole bloody argument's about—"

"Shh!"

Harry crouched by the door. Fred handed him an Extendable Ear, and Harry gladly took it. Now he could everything clearly, not just a jumble of voices.

"—ought to get her out of this house, before Black shows up!"

"After that whole to-do with that Death Eater posing as Alastor, Dumbledore, you'd honestly endanger the children of Hogwarts with another Dark teacher?"

"Now listen here, my cousin is no more a Dark witch than you, Camille Prewett!"

"Oh, as though we ought to listen to you, Andromeda! We know how close you were to that heathen cousin of yours before he betrayed the Potters!"

"Does anyone bother to read The Prophet anymore? Tabitha Black or McNoira or whatever she's calling herself these days is in league with her father, says so right in black and white. And Dumbledore and the Potter boy—"

"Don't you bring Harry into this, Edward Weasley!" Mrs. Weasley shrieked. "He's a good boy, and Dumbledore is a fine headmaster. The Prophet is nothing but rubbish, it's controlled by the Ministry, and the Ministry is not quite right in the head these days!"

"Is that why Arthur still works there, Molly?"

"Out of line, Ed, my job has noth—"

"Truth is, we don't see how safe it is to welcome the girl into your home, that's all, Arthur. How well do you lot know her, anyway?"

"Allowing the enemy into your private home, it's just not sensible—"

"Will you all kindly shut up!" The din downstairs immediately ceased.

Fred whistled. "Didn't know she was down there with them."

"You tell 'em, Tabitha," George whispered.

"Molly, Arthur, I apologize for my mere presence causing such a problem in your home," Tabitha was saying calmly, though Harry could detect incredible fury behind her words. "Especially since there's things the family simply doesn't know."

"Tabitha." Dumbledore's voice was weary.

"I don't care if they don't believe me ."

There was a moment of silence before Dumbledore said, "I agree, it cannot hurt."

"My father," Tabitha said clearly. "Sirius Black, is not a Death Eater. He never was. He could not have orchestrated that attack on the Ministry because my father—" Her voice quavered. "My father died last spring." She must have looked at Mrs. Weasley's parents. "Killed by our cousin Bellatrix Lestrange, just like your sons, Gideon and Fabian. He has been in hiding since escaping Azkaban. I—I hid him for quite some time." A sharp murmur broke out. "But! But only after Dumbledore and Remus Lupin wrote me to say that he was innocent. He never betrayed the Potters as everyone thought. That was Peter Pettigrew. He never died, it was all an elaborate hoax, a frame-up for my father. And Peter Pettigrew is out there, helping Voldemort." There was an audible shudder among the Weasleys and Prewetts. "Now, I know you are not willing to take my word on it, but please. You all attended Hogwarts; you know Albus Dumbledore is not the old fool The Daily Prophet claims he is. You know Ron and Ginny and the twins would not befriend Harry Potter if he was a wild story-teller. You know Molly and Arthur would not trust all three of us blackened by The Prophet if they didn't know, for certain, where our loyalties lie. Please, if—if only you would believe us. And tell everyone you know who reads The Prophet what rubbish it is. We all need to stand together now, or we're certain to fall to Voldemort."

"Well said, Tabitha," Dumbledore murmured.

"Never would have heard that without these new prototypes," Fred boasted.

"And if you please," Charlie was saying. "Don't be cruel to Tabitha, on any accounts. Bill and I have known her since Hogwarts; she's always been a great friend to us, and … and as she's a member of the family now, it'd please me much if you treated my wife with a certain respect."

Mrs. Prewett shrieked, and the twins put away the Extendable Ears. "Nana's so set on seeing Bill and Charlie 'settle down,'" George said. "I bet all we'd hear now is rubbish about when Charlie and Tabitha'll start reproducing. Or more likely that Charlie ought not to have settled down with such an evil woman."

"D'you think any of your aunts and uncles will join the Order?" Harry asked eagerly.

"Doubt it," Ron said. "Dumbledore wouldn't ask anyone unless he really trusted them, right? And as I'll bet that speech didn't do too much lasting benefit—" He shrugged.

Harry and Ron spent much of the day in the twins' room, playing Exploding Snap Ginny, Hermione, Fred, and George. None of them were too keen on seeing their relatives. Harry especially did not want to be gawked at, or perhaps asked uncomfortable questions.

They would have to go downstairs occasionally to say goodbye as various people left. As Camille Prewett was hugging Charlie goodbye, Harry heard her whisper, "She is a decent cook, perhaps she isn't all that bad." Tabitha looked frightfully miserable. As the last of the family left, she and Andromeda Tonks announced they were going to St. Mungo's.

"Nymphadora's been in and out all day," Andromeda fretted. "The Healers must be right peeved with me, I must have sent seven owls at least."

"I'll be back in an hour for the meeting," Tabitha swore. "James has something very interesting to tell us."

Harry's ears perked. James? No, but certainly, she couldn't be talking about his father …

He waited anxiously for the meeting. At precisely nine o'clock, Charlie came up to the twins' room. "Harry? You coming down?"

"What about us?" the others demanded.

"Well, Mum won't be please, but … may as well try, I suppose."

The whole lot of them trouped downstairs. The kitchen windows had been blackened, and Mad-Eye Moody was muttering something, blasting each window with a jet of black light. Around the kitchen table were Dumbledore, Professor McGonagall, Snape, Lupin, Mr. Weasley, Hagrid, and Bill and Charlie Weasley. Mrs. Weasley was at the stove, making tea. Tabitha Apparated into the kitchen a moment later.

"Oh, good, I thought you'd've …"

"Waiting for you, dear," Charlie said.

Dumbledore nodded. "We are all here. Er, Molly?" He looked at the younger Weasley children. Mrs. Weasley sighed wearily.

"You know, Dumbledore, I try and I try, but it's no use. They can stay."

"Very good then." Dumbledore clapped his frail old hands together, and a blue mist suddenly seemed to envelope the kitchen.

"What the—?" Ron looked around in awe.

"Don't want anyone poking around or popping in, do we?" Dumbledore said with a smile. Chairs were conjured to accommodate everyone as Mrs. Weasley served the tea.

"Thanks, Molly, needed a cuppa. Yeh got any Ogden's?" Hagrid asked hopefully.

"Yes, I think we could all take a shot of that, Mum," Bill said wearily.

"Yes, indeed," the twins piped up.

Mrs. Weasley shot them a withering look. "We're of age!" Fred protested. But Mrs. Weasley was already pouring the slightest drop of Ogden's Olde Firewhiskey into the twins' mugs.

"Hey, Mum, I'm nearly of age …" Ron said hopefully.

"Ronald Weasley, dare you even test me right now …"

Ron reddened. "Sorry, Mum."

Once everyone received their tea—Ron's, Harry's, Hermione's, and Ginny's being the only ones with even a drop of firewhiskey—Dumbledore began, "This attack, now—"

"Wait, Dumbledore, Harry's got a theory," Charlie said. "Go on, Harry."

Harry looked around. Snape was sneering at him as usual; Hagrid beamed at him from behind his steaming tankard of tea. "Well, it's just, just that Fudge has been right fishy lately." He launched into his brief theory, thinking as he spoke how ridiculous it sounded.

But as he finished, Dumbledore nodded. "Something I myself thought of, Harry, very good. But Tabitha, you said James—?"

"That's just it, Professor Dumbledore," Tabitha said, pulling the Marauder's Map from the pocket of her pink Muggle sweater. Harry's heart sank slightly as he saw Snape eyeing the old parchment. It was bad enough Snape knew about Harry's Invisibility Cloak; if he knew about the Marauder's Map, too, surely Harry would not be able to get away with using either anymore.

But Tabitha did not tap the map and say, "I solemnly swear I am up to no good." She clutched it to her chest and said, "I told Charlie the other night. I was sitting with Tonks, with this to keep my company while she slept, and as soon as James told me—well, I rushed over here to tell Charlie, and the next day, Harry told Charlie his theory and, oh, it just all fits, Fudge is behind the attack, we're sure of it."

She lay the map flat on the table and tapped it with her wand. "Messrs. Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs, I'd like a word."

To Harry's immense astonishment—and to Ron and Hermione's, as he heard both of them gasp in surprise—Sirius' voice rang out clearly. "Is that you, again, Tabby?"

Harry saw Tabitha blink back a few tears before answering, "Y-yes, D-I mean, Mr. Padfoot."

"What in—Merlin's beard!" Mr. Weasley cried as four figures climbed out of the map. One was small and rather chubby, with watery eyes and a rather unimpressive air about him. Another was a meek-looking brown-haired boy. The third was tall, handsome, dark-haired, with a cocky smile. The fourth was a vision of Harry, down to the untidy hair. Only their eyes were different. It was undoubtedly …

"My dad," Harry said softly.

The figures brushed themselves off and looked around. The young Sirius smiled heartily at Tabitha before spotting Snape. "Old Snivellus," he said rudely. "I should've smelled that slimy git miles away!"

Snape seethed in silent fury. Harry could see purple blotches creeping up his neck.

"Snivellus? Oy, what'd you bring us here for, anyway, Tabby, if old Snivellus was going to be here?"

"James, er, Mr. Prongs, you've got to tell everyone what you told me the other day," Tabitha said. "This is quite important."

James sniffed. "Yeah? S'that why Snivellus is here?"

"James!" Lupin said sharply. The young Remus Lupin stared at himself.

"Oy, Mr. Moony, you're not looking well. Full moon soon?" he said.

"Shut it," Lupin told himself. "Haven't I explained enough to you lot for you to know that Severus is an ally?"

"Evidently, nothing's been said of Pettigrew," Hermione said under her breath.

The young Marauders sneered at Snape, but said no more. James looked around. "Have we got to stand on this table all day, or do we get—oy!" He stared at Harry. Harry felt as if ice water had been dumped over his head.

James whistled. "Would you look at that?" While everyone watched silently, he walked over to Harry, dropped to one knee and stared straight into his son's face.

This vision of his father had to be the same age as him, Harry thought. James seemed about sixteen or seventeen and, except for the eyes, Harry seemed to be looking into a mirror. Though he noticed that his father was built a bit more solidly in the shoulders. Yeah, but he didn't live in a cupboard under the stairs for ten years, did he? Harry told himself.

James laughed and looked at Tabitha and Lupin. "Weren't lying, were you? Evans really did come around? He's got her eyes, he has, that means she really did come around?" He laughed again. "How 'bout that, Wormtail, I told you she'd come around! I hope you paid me those five Galleons you promised, a bet's a bet, after all, and a friend's got to keep his word."

Harry felt a surge of anger at this. Whatever Tabitha and Lupin had told the Marauders' memories, or whatever these apparitions were (though they couldn't be apparitions; no, they were quite solid), they had apparently said nothing of Wormtail's betrayal. Harry was about to burst out until he caught Tabitha's eye; she shook her head slightly.

"Hmm." James sniffed, apparently bored with staring down Harry. "Well? D'we get chairs or have we got to stand here all day?"

Dumbledore conjured up four chairs. James settled between Harry and Ron and, to Harry's disgust, Wormtail wedged himself in next to James, who had taken to poking and prodding Harry, giggling every few minutes. Harry felt very odd, as if he should be happy to see his father, but he was getting quite annoyed by James' intense and immature inspection of him.

Young Lupin and Sirius sat on either side of Lupin. Sirius made sure he was in a prime spot to silently taunt Snape.

Dumbledore cleared his throat. "Well, I think we are all waiting. James."

James looked up from his intense studying of Harry's left arm. "Huh?"

"Tabitha tells us you have something interesting to tell us."

"Oh, oh yeah. That bloke," he pointed to Mad-Eye Moody. "Had us a while back. Didn't talk to us much, not like Tabby does, just used the map a few times. Left us open once, didn't he, and said something about Voldemort. Tabby tells us you lot all know who he is, of course," James said to his younger audience. "Must've learned all about it, what we're going through now, in Binns' class, I'm sure. 'Course, we didn't pay much attention to this bloke at the time, because he was also talking about fudge, and we haven't got much use for fudge, being a map, have we? Then Tabby got us back, not sure how that happened, but it was nice, as we hadn't talked to her since she was at Hogwarts. Got us filched by Filch, didn't she?" He winked at Tabitha. "S'all right, we had a couple of good owners after that, Messrs. Weasley, as I recall. Put us to good use."

"And we thank you, chap," Fred said solemnly. James and the other Marauders turned to appraise the twins. James cracked a grin.

"Just the troublemakers we'd imagined. Anyway, it was when Tabby got us back that we found out Fudge was Minister; well, didn't really click with us until we remembered what we'd heard that bloke talking about." He gestured to Mad-Eye again.

"Wasn't me, Potter," he said sharply. "An imposter. Polyjuice potion."

"All the same, thought it was you, mate," James said coolly. "Tabby said old Padfoot was getting some trouble from the Minister, and we remembered just a few nights ago, didn't we, when Tabby told us about the attack at the Ministry? Told Tabby straightaway. We were confused, mind you, when we'd first heard that bloke talking about trying to get fudge on Voldemort's side, because it seemed right odd to be talking about Voldemort and candy, but that's not what he meant, was it? He's been trying to get this new Minister on Voldemort's side. Seems like he's succeeded now, hasn't he? I'm not much on politics, myself, but I know old Milicent Bagnold'd never get in with Voldemort. Haven't got yourself much of a good Minister these days, I gather."

Snape snorted. "This is the support for Potter's outrageous theory?" he scoffed.

"What theory?" James said hotly.

"Harry's theory," Dumbledore said gently. James looked at Harry and smiled.

"Right. 'Spose he's the Potter you mean these days." He leaned in so only Harry could hear him say quickly. "Hope your old dad's loaned you his Invisibility Cloak to use at school. That is how you've been able to use our old map these past few years, right?"

Harry stood up swiftly, then remembered he couldn't leave the kitchen. James stared at him for a moment and looked at Sirius. "Think he may be a bit barmy," he whispered loudly. "Might take after Charon, you know, though I hear Evans' sister's a bit wonky, maybe he takes after her."

"I do not take after Aunt Petunia," Harry said hotly.

James winked at Sirius. "Evans' temper."

"Enough, James," Dumbledore said quietly. Snape was giving Harry an odd look. Harry tried not to look at him. He didn't want Snape to know that he saw it … saw what an awful git his father could be. He didn't want to admit it, that Snape had been right about the young James Potter.

"Thank you, James, that was indeed helpful," Dumbledore said. "And unless we have anymore business with you—" He looked at Harry. "Though perhaps some of that may be private?"

Harry felt his face burning with anger. "No, I haven't really got anything to ask Mr. Prongs right now," he said. "Though I've certainly got something to ask you."

"Harry …"

"Why haven't you told them?" Harry said angrily. He looked round the table at Lupin and Tabitha.

"Told us what, mate?" Sirius said coolly, folding his arms over his chest.

"Harry." Tabitha looked him square in the eye. "We've just told them a few things, ("What things hasn't she told us, mate?") they needn't know more ("What don't we know? Is it something important?"). It's only important to them to know that the map has found its way into their children's hands, right? ("No, no, what haven't you told us?") With us, just where they'd've wanted it to end up."

Everyone watched as Harry and Tabitha stared each other down. James and Sirius looked positively thrilled. "Seven Galleons says my daughter wins," Sirius crowed.

"Only if she's as stubborn as you, you old ass, and that's not possible, so ten on my son."

"Shut up!" Tabitha and Harry yelled at once.

"Back in the map," Tabitha said irritably.

"Aw, Tabby …"

But she tapped the map harshly and said, "Mischief managed." The four figures were forcibly swept back into the blank old parchment. Tabitha folded it up. She put it back in her pocket and glared at Harry. "Forget what I said about your getting this back," she said tersely. "I am confiscating it for the remainder of my tenure as a Hogwarts professor."

"And if the Ministry has its way, that won't be for long, will it?" Harry said.

"That's worth a week of detention when we get back to school," Tabitha said sharply.

"Tabitha," Hagrid said gently. "Tha's not really—"

"And thirty points from Gryffindor."

Harry looked at Professor McGonagall for help. Her mouth was shut tightly into a thin line. "Professor, she can't …"

"She can, Potter. She is within her rights to penalize you and your House."

Harry looked to Dumbledore, who merely nodded his head. Snape looked as if it would be Christmas every day for a year. Harry crossed his arms angrily and glared at Tabitha.

Mr. Weasley looked at his watch. "By Merlin, look at the time. We ought to get the children up to bed, hadn't we? We'll be setting out early for Hogwarts tomorrow."

"We're going to back to Hogwarts?" Ginny said as Dumbledore removed the blue mist surrounding the kitchen.

"Of course, it's a secure meeting place for the Order, and we've got some, er, business …" Mr. Weasley trailed off.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione looked at each other as they left the kitchen and said together, "Dragon," leaving the senior members of the Order looking quite surprised. Snape seemed to be rounding angrily on Charlie and Hagrid as the door shut.

Ron and Hermione looked uneasily at Harry. His jaw was set and his fists clenched over and over again.

"He's a git, just like Snape said," he seethed. "Cocky little roach, wasn't he?"

"Harry," Hermione said gently. "I'm sure he grew out of it. Your mother couldn't possibly have come around to that, could she? He must have changed tons before she agreed to start seeing him."

"Did you hear him?" Harry continued. "Asked if he'd given me his cloak. They don't even know what's happened to them. They don't know about that git Wormtail, they don't know my dad and Sirius've died."

"But Tabitha's right, isn't she?" Hermione said, terribly sensibly. "What good would it do to tell them?"

As Harry pummeled his pillow that night, he could only admit to himself that Hermione was right.