Chapter 17: Maps and Muggles

Harry froze suddenly in the doorway, causing Hermione to walk straight into the back of him, knocking them both into a heap on the floor. Disentangling himself from his best friend, Harry looked up at the bright pink, spikey hair and smirking face of Nymphadora Tonks.

"Touring the broom cupboards already little brother?" she said as Harry scrambled to his feet before holding out his hand to help Hermione up. "And only a week in! What would Sirius say?"

"I think we both know what he'd say Dora, and I'm not likely to repeat it here." Dora's smirk grew wider.

"What are you two doing up here anyway?" she asked as Hermione dusted herself off.

"Exploring – though we got a bit lost…"

"Exploring eh? Is that what you kids are calling it these days? Aren't you still a bit young for that?" Harry blushed – despite being mentally decades older than her, Dora had always been able to rattle him. Before he could respond though they were interrupted by another voice.

"Well, well, well! What have we got here?"

Harry twisted sharply to see the grinning faces of the Weasley twins. Seeing Fred again, so many years after his death at the Battle of Hogwarts had been emotional – he'd always been close to the twins and he'd struggled to stop himself greeting Fred more familiarly than could be comfortably explained. At this moment in time, however, a combination of Dora and the twins, especially with the mood his 'big sister' was clearly in, was always going to be a recipe for embarrassment for Harry who groaned quietly to himself.

"Seriously –", Hermione whispered to him, "is that the international greeting for troublemakers?"

"Gred. Forge." Dora nodded, a wicked grin on her face. "I've just caught these two stumbling out of a… hey! Where did the door go?" Dora's look of glee at the chance to embarrass Harry further had turned to confusion as she now studied the blank wall where the large wooden door had stood only moments before.

Fred and George both stepped up to the wall with quizzical expressions and began to run their hands over the solid stone surface. "Weird. I'm sure there was a broom cupboard here – George and I hid from Filch in it last year." Fred turned to his twin who nodded in confirmation.

Hermione watched the interplay and realised the opportunity that had presented itself. Nudging Harry to get his attention, she muttered under her breath while the others were distracted by the disappearing door. Harry glanced at her and nodded slightly in agreement then turned and plastered a desperate look onto his face. "Listen… Dora… I'm begging you. Please don't say anything to Padfoot. You know what he's like – I'll never hear the end of it." Harry had deliberately looked away from the twins, leaving Hermione to watch their expressions but a glance her way indicated that dropping the Marauder's name had had the impact they'd desired.

"Sorry, did you say Padfoot?" George asked eagerly.

"Yeah, he's my godfather and adopted dad – Sirius Black. Why?"

"Does that mean you know who Moony, Wormtail, and Prongs are too?"

Harry chose to assume a confused expression as he faced the Weasley twins. "Yeah – Prongs was my Dad and Moony was their friend Remus."

"What about Wormtail?"

Genuine anger slipped onto his features, causing Fred and George to take a step back in surprise. "Pettigrew," he growled. "Bastard gave my parents up to Voldemort – he's the reason they're dead."

Harry felt a hand on each of his shoulders and glanced back to see both Hermione and Dora looking at him comfortingly. He sagged and allowed his anger to drain away. "Sorry, it's just a touchy subject for me."

"No – no problem Harry." Fred and George looked at each other and nodded to each other in agreement. "Listen, we've got something that might be of interest to you." George pulled a familiar piece of parchment out of his robes and handed it to Harry. "This," he said, "is the secret to our success as pranksters."

"The map!" Harry exclaimed as the twins looked at each other in surprise. "Padfoot told me to keep an eye out for it. He said Wormtail got caught with it in their final year and had it confiscated – idiot. How do you get caught with a map that shows you exactly where everyone is?"

"You know what this is then?" Fred asked.

"Yep!" Harry took his wand and touched it to the piece of parchment. He looked over at Hermione and smiled warmly, remembering how she had chosen to tell him that she had also returned from the future. "I solemnly swear that I am up to no good."

"What the…?" Dora watched in amazement as lines of ink twisted across the parchment, initially detailing the corridors and classrooms of Hogwarts, before the names of students, teachers and ghosts began appearing in those locations. "Is that…?"

"Everyone currently in the castle," George said proudly. "Best guess is it's tied to the wards somehow."

"It is," said Harry. "I don't know how they managed it but Padfoot said my Dad and Moony were the ones that activated it once the enchantments were done. Watch this Dora…" Harry tapped his wand against a small symbol in the top right corner of the parchment and declared "Find Snape." The lines twisted once more until they showed the potions lab and a dot labelled "Severus Snape" in the middle of the parchment. "Wicked." Breathed Fred and George in unison. "We didn't know it did that!" Harry tapped the same symbol twice and the map reverted to the overview of the school.

Fred then struck an elaborate pose and in his most pompous voice intoned. "As the son of Prongs and the godson of Padfoot, we hereby bequeath the Marauders Map unto you. May your pranks be plentiful and may you never be caught."

"Thanks, guys," Harry said with a grin as he folded the map and placed it inside his cloak. "If you ever need to borrow it just let me know, I'm sure we can come to some sort of arrangement…" Harry trailed off as the quintet heard the distinctive sound of a throat being cleared behind them.

"Ah, Harry my boy. I wonder if I might have a few moments of your time." Collectively the group turned to see the twinkling blue eyes of the Headmaster watching them from a distance. "Misters Weasley, Miss Tonks, Miss Granger." He nodded to them in greeting.

"Good morning Headmaster," Harry replied politely. "Certainly." Harry shot a look at Hermione. "I'll catch up with you in a bit."

"I'll be in the library when you're done."

Albus Dumbledore walked smartly back to his office with Harry striding alongside him. He kept glancing over at the boy with a puzzled expression on his face. The Headmaster was used to students nervously stammering when he spoke directly to them, with an eagerness to answer any questions he had as quickly as they possibly could. Harry Potter, however, spoke confidently, walked alongside him as though he were a peer, and had an infuriating habit of answering his questions without giving any real information away. Having used this tactic for years himself, he was now on the other side of the equation and didn't like it one bit.

The gargoyle that guarded the entrance to his office jumped aside as they approach and soon the pair had climbed the stairs were stepping inside. Albus watched as Harry looked around and, ignoring the Headmaster entirely, strode toward Fawkes' perch. He watched as the Phoenix cocked his head at the approaching boy before letting out a few quavers of song and allowing him to gently stroke his head. Albus couldn't hear what Harry was saying to his familiar as he was speaking too softly, but was astonished when Fawkes bowed his head to the boy, seemingly in acquiescence. He took a seat quietly behind his desk, watching Harry as he now turned his attention to the sorting hat.

"Greetings Mr Potter." The tear along its wide brim moved, allowing the hat to speak as it had done at the sorting.

"Hello again…" Harry paused. "… I'm sorry, I don't know what to call you…"

"You may call me Sim, Mr Potter."

Albus' eyebrows shot up – he'd been Headmaster of Hogwarts for almost three decades and he hadn't known the hat even had a name.

"Thank you Sim – please call me Harry – ". He broke off as Albus coughed quietly to draw attention back to their meeting. It had been years since anyone had so deliberately ignored him and Albus worked quickly to squash his rising irritation and instead chose to place a look of grandfatherly indulgence on his face. "My apologies Sim – as much as I would enjoy a conversation with you, I had agreed to speak with the Headmaster now."

"Not a problem Harry. I would indeed enjoy the opportunity to speak with you another time…"

"I'm sure something could be arranged." Albus interrupted, eager to grasp another opportunity to work his way into the boy's good graces. "Now Harry, would you please take a seat?" Harry moved back to the comfortable chair in front of the desk and sat calmly, watching him. "Lemon drop?" Albus offered.

"No thank you, Sir."

The pair sat in silence and observed one another – much like the twinkling eyes, grandfatherly expressions and dodging of questions, this was another of Albus' favourite tricks. Usually, a long enough silence would make whoever he was talking to uneasy, and it was much easier to get what you wanted from a conversation if the other person was off-balance. This silence, however, was now stretching to a period that was uncomfortable even for Albus, but Harry had merely settled into the chair, crossed his legs and continued to look right back at him. Albus sent the lightest touch of legilimency at Harry to scan his surface thoughts without success. Harry maintained eye contact, his expression giving nothing away and Albus couldn't help but feel like he was being sized up.

"Sir," Harry said abruptly, breaking the silence. "Was there something you wanted?"

"Yes, my boy. I have something for you." Albus turned, frowning as soon as his face could no longer be seen, but prepared to return to his previous expression before facing Harry again. He opened a draw with a tap of his wand and pulled out a long, shimmering piece of fabric, which he then presented to Harry. "This belonged to your father. He left it in my possession before he died and it is time it was returned to its rightful owner."

"What is it, Sir?" Harry said curiously.

"Why don't you try it on?" Albus suggested, his eyes twinkling once more. "Your father and his friends made extensive use of it in their time at Hogwarts – I would imagine you and your friends may find it similarly helpful…"

Albus watched as Harry picked up the cloak and threw it around his shoulders. He saw the joy in the emerald green eyes of the young man before him and smiled indulgently at him. "I trust you will use it well?"

"Yes, Sir!" Harry replied enthusiastically. "Thank you."

"No need to thank me," he said, waving his hand. "I am simply returning an item that belongs to you."

Silence fell again. "Was there anything else Sir?"

Albus studied Harry once more. "Only that I'm here to help so you should feel free to come and speak with me about anything that may be troubling you."

"Thank you, Sir. The rest of the first years will be very happy to hear you're willing to help us! I'll let them know right now!" Harry dashed for the door, not allowing time for Albus to stutter a rebuttal that the offer was for the boy himself, not open to all students. By the time he'd gathered his thoughts Harry was long gone.

Harry smirked as he strode down the corridor away from the Headmaster's office. He knew what the old man was trying and was certain he could make Dumbledore regret making such an offer in a very short time – especially if he roped in Dora and the twins.

As he made his way toward the library he began to pay more attention to his surroundings and the smile began to fall from his face. He walked past familiar features and objects and remembered his previous time in Hogwarts, the way the castle had crumbled and fallen to ruin in places following the final battle with Voldemort and vowed to himself that he wouldn't allow the students, nor this institution, to suffer the same fate again.

He blinked and shook his head to clear his thoughts. Without realising, his feet had carried him to the huge double doors that marked the entrance to the library. Shrugging off his memories of the future, he pushed the doors opened, stepped inside and followed the well-trodden route to Hermione's side. When he arrived at their usual table, however, he found the rest of the study group present and Hermione in the midst of an impassioned argument with Ernie Macmillan about Muggle technology.

"Listen, I'm not suggesting Muggles are perfect Ernie – far from it – but how can you dismiss the other 57 million people in the United Kingdom, just because they don't have magic?" Hermione looked around at the others at the table and focussed on Blaise Zabini. "You've got your own broom – what's the highest and fastest you've flown?"

Blaise frowned. "A couple of hundred feet and about 60 miles an hour. Why?"

"There's a Muggle aircraft that will fly passengers at well over 1,000 miles per hour at 68,000 feet. That aircraft started transporting people back in the 1970s – a few years after the Americans walked on the surface of the moon and returned to Earth safely."

That statement caused a noticeable split in the group. The Muggleborns and Half-Bloods that knew Muggle history all nodded in agreement while the rest either scoffed in disbelief or were stunned by the ingenuity.

"That's impossible." sneered Theodore Nott. "There's no way Muggles have been to the moon when even Wizards haven't made it there."

"I tell you what," Hermione said. "I'll owl my parents and ask them to send some Muggle history books. Three or four different ones by different authors – that way, if the details match, you'll know I'm telling the truth."

Harry had watched this conversation from a distance but now slipped into the empty seat next to Hermione, who grinned at him as he sat down. The rest of the study group had dissolved into conversation with the Purebloods questioning those who knew Muggle history. It seemed like a small thing but anything that had their classmates questioning what they 'knew' was a good start.

"Hang on," Padma Patil had been listening carefully to the conversation and had slipped away into the stacks when Theo Nott had uttered his dismissal of Muggle achievements but had now returned with a book in her hand. "If what you're saying is true, how come there's nothing in there about it?" She dropped a copy of the 'Muggle Studies' textbook on the table and stepped back, crossing her arms as she did so.

Harry picked up the book and briefly flicked through the pages, chuckling as he did so. When he reached the section on Muggle transport he let out a loud belly laugh. "Seriously? This is what's being taught about Muggles?" He passed the book to Justin Finch-Fletchley who snorted in derision. "The stuff in this book is about 70 or 80 years out of date. Take a look at that car – modern ones don't need someone to turn a crank to get it started, just a key, and probably more than half of all Muggle families in England own one."

Justin passed the book over to Hermione who scanned the contents page and sniffed. She closed the book and placed it back in the centre of the table. "Based on the material, I think most Muggleborns and Muggle-raised students could pass this OWL easily."

"Is that right, Hermione?" Cedric Diggory, who had been studying at the next table over, joined the conversation. He stood and calmly walked over to the study group. "Are you finished with this? I've got homework to do and I've left my copy downstairs." Harry nodded and passed the book over to the third-year Hufflepuff. "You're Muggleborn," Cedric continued, turning to look at Hermione. "Do you think you could pass the Muggle Studies OWL exam?"

"This year? Possibly but it would be a stretch." Hermione ignored the smirk and wink Harry dropped her way – he was evidently recalling the Outstanding OWL she had received via self-study in their original fifth year. "By the end of our second year?" She looked around at the group and frowned in contemplation. "There are 12 of us in this study group at the moment. Justin and I are Muggleborn, Harry, Hannah and Tracey are Half-bloods and Neville, Susan, Ernie, Padma, Daphne, Theo and Blaise are Purebloods. If we can convince the staff to allow us to sit the exam at the end of next year, I believe the five non-Purebloods could tutor the rest of the group into an OWL pass by the end of our second year, yes."

Silence fell as expressions of disbelief appeared on most of the faces around the table. Harry, however, merely looked amused by the situation. "Getting an OWL out of the way next year? I'm in," he said. "Anyone else want to join us?"

By the middle of their third week, the story of the group of first years that were planning to sit an OWL before they'd even selected their third-year electives had permeated every corner of the castle. Not everyone in the group had been up for the challenge; Tracey, Hannah and Justin had cried off, preferring to spend more time on their current studies than on attempting to become some of the youngest ever students to achieve a passing grade on an OWL, and this left Harry and Hermione the challenge of organising and tutoring the remainder of the group. Fortunately, as Harry well knew, Hermione's organisation skills were legendary and he expected everything would go smoothly.

The Muggle Studies teacher, Professor Fiddlewood, hadn't been impressed at all by the group of upstart youngsters that believed they could succeed through self-study of his course and had denied their request for both faculty supervision and the chance to sit the OWL exam. Fortunately, Padma had appealed to Professor Flitwick who was delighted to find the group eager to further their understanding of Muggles and agreed to assist, intervening via Professor McGonagall and speaking on their behalf thereby gaining them the opportunity to attempt the exam. It had, of course, helped that Hermione had presented a detailed plan of study, ensuring that all the objectives of the course could be accomplished and sourced previous examination papers in order to best prepare the group.

Hermione had been so caught up in this preparation that she hadn't even realised that her birthday had crept up on her.

When her alarm went off on the morning of September 19th, Hermione swung her legs out of bed and stretched before grabbing her dressing gown and padding across the room to the shared bathroom. When she exited half an hour later, dressed and ready for the day, she noticed an envelope and a small, wrapped parcel resting on her pillow. She picked up the envelope and smiled – she'd recognise that chicken scratch handwriting anywhere – then opened it to read the message inside the card.

Dear Hermione,

Happy birthday!

I just wanted to thank you for being such an amazing friend. I know I've not always been the best at showing it but I honestly do appreciate everything you do for me.

Love,

Harry

Hermione beamed with happiness as she carefully placed the card on her bedside table. She then turned her attention to the meticulously wrapped package. It was obvious upon lifting the parcel that Harry had picked out a book for her and she peeled back the paper to find a note obscuring the cover.

I saw this and couldn't help but think of you!

She moved the note out of the way and began laughing as she caught sight of the cover illustration; a small, brunette girl sat on a box and surrounded by thick books. Giggling, she placed the copy of Roald Dahl's Matilda next to the card, ready to be read that night.