A/N: Essentially, what you recognize belongs to the goddess that is J.K. Rowling, and what you don't belongs to lil' ol' me.

Genevieve was going home for Christmas this year, as were the twins. She was going home to do more studying in quiet peace, while also comforting her father on what would be the third anniversary of her grandfather's death.

Before they left, however, Genevieve, Fred, and George had talked it over, and decided to give Harry the Marauder's Map, as he wasn't allowed to go to Hogsmeade this year; his permission slip hadn't been signed.

"Psst - Harry!"

"What are you doing?" Harry questioned, both amusement and suspicion edging his voice.

Fred answered. "We've come to give you a bit of festive cheer before we go. Come in here . . ."

The group entered an empty classroom nearby.

"Early Christmas present for you, Harry," said George with a smirk.

Fred pulled out the blank Map with grandeur and set it in a desk.

"What's that supposed to be?"

"This, Harry, is the secret to our success."

"It's a wrench, giving it to you, but we decided last night, your need's greater than ours."

"We know it by heart, anyway," added Genevieve.

"We bequeath it to you. We don't really need it anymore," George continued.

"And what do I need with a bit of old parchment?" Harry queried doubtfully.

"A bit of old parchment!" Fred exclaimed in shock and mock hurt. "Explain, George."

"Well . . . when we were in our first year, Harry - young, carefree, and innocent - "

"As if," Genevieve interrupted.

" - well, more innocent than we are now - we got into a spot of bother with Filch."

"We let off a Dungbomb in the corridor and it rather upset him for some reason," explained Genevieve.

"So he hauled us off to his office and started threatening us with the usual - "

" - detention - "

" - disembowelment - "

" - the ever present complaint about the ban on whipping - "

" - and we couldn't help noticing a drawer in one of his filing cabinets marked Confiscated and Highly Dangerous."

"Don't tell me - " This elicited a growing smile from Harry.

"Well, what would you've done?" Fred said. "Of course, we hadn't fully corrupted Genevieve yet at that point," she waved sheepishly, "and she didn't want us to, but George caused a diversion by dropping another Dungbomb, I whipped the drawer open, and grabbed - this."

"It's not as bad as it sounds, you know," reasoned George. "We don't reckon Filch ever found out how to work it. He probably suspected what it was, though, or he wouldn't have confiscated it."

"And you know how to work it?" Harry asked.

"Oh yes," bragged Fred. "This little beauty's taught us more than all the teachers in this school."

Genevieve coughed.

"Genevieve helped figure it out, too."

"You're winding me up."

"Oh, are we?" asked George. And with that, he said the magic words, touching his wand to the paper.

"I solemnly swear that I am up to no good."

As expected, the map filled up, revealing the ever familiar words.

Messrs. Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs

Purveyors of Aids to Magical Mischief-Makers

are proud to present

THE MARAUDER'S MAP

They showed Harry the passages, which ones to avoid, and then George said:

"Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs. We owe them so much."

Genevieve smiled. Only she knew the identity of the Marauders, and that they were giving the Map right back to the son of one of its makers.

"Noble men, working tirelessly to help a new generation of law-breakers."

They told him how to wipe it, and left Harry to ponder his new gift.

•~0~•

Genevieve woke up, opened specifically one package, slipped on the jumper inside, a pale turquoise, and headed down to the kitchen, where her father was already making breakfast. She set the table, and they ate in companionable silence.

When it came time to open presents, she'd taken a page from Mrs. Weasley's book and given her father a sweater. In return she received from him a small, but simple, gold bracelet.

She'd sent Charlie another dragon related book, the twins some more joke ideas (they'd now gotten the notion to start a joke shop as a career), and Katie a beautiful quill she'd fashioned herself.

From Charlie, she got a letter and yet another dragon sculpture, the twins had given her Sugar Quills, and Katie had sent her a fascinating book about Quidditch.

Though quiet, it was, all in all, a great Christmas. And on the third anniversary of her grandfather's death, they'd visited his grave, laying flowers across his gravestone. Her father had told her stories afterword, of his childhood and meeting her mother.

One day, soon before she left to return to Hogwarts, she asked him.

"How did Mum die?"

He sobered. "Well, she was coming back with you from a meeting with a friend when she was ambushed by Death Eaters, You-Know-Who's followers. As an Auror, she was always a target, especially for marrying me, a Muggle-born, but she had done something, something unforgivable. She barely managed to escape, made sure you were safe with me, before returning and fighting them."

His voice cracked. "They found her body the next day. She was awarded the Order of Merlin, First Class, for her bravery. Why do you ask?"

Genevieve faltered. "You know how there've been dementors stationed at Hogwarts? Well, every time I get near one, I remember that moment. When she was trying to escape the Death Eaters, I mean. I don't know how, but I remember it."

Her father hugged her tight. "She died a hero, but really, she was just trying to protect you. She was trying to create a world in which you could live safely. You remind me of her more every single day."