"Kitten, tell me that you won't be spending Moony's birthday in the library," Sirius whined, collapsing onto the seat beside her in the common room on the morning of March 10th, a look of mock desperation on his face.

Hermione raised an eyebrow, holding up her meticulously crafted, colour-coded study schedule. "If you had bothered to look at this," she replied with a hint of amusement, "you'd have noticed I left the whole afternoon free for any madness you might be planning for today."

Sirius stared at her, half in disbelief and half in awe. "You mean to tell me," he said, waving a hand dramatically, "that you've scheduled mischief-making into that colour-coded monstrosity of a study schedule?"

"Yes," Hermione replied matter-of-factly, not a hint of embarrassment. "I labelled it as 'Marauding Time,' which means I'll be fully available for whatever ridiculous antics you might have in mind."

He shook his head, still incredulous. "Where's the spontaneity in all that? Part of the magic of mischief is the unexpected, you know."

"Unexpected, right," Hermione scoffed. "Like you would honestly celebrate Remus's birthday on some random day just to be spontaneous?"

"Well… no," he admitted, sheepishly. "But it's the principle, Kitten! You can't plan for mischief."

She arched an eyebrow. "So, let me get this straight: you're complaining because I planned to leave my schedule open for your usual distractions? Honestly, Sirius, you're impossible."

Sirius narrowed his eyes, considering her. "Are there… any other days dedicated to us on that schedule of yours?"

Hermione counted on her fingers, ticking off each event. "Full moons, birthdays, April 1st, and possibly Hogsmeade weekends." She glanced back up at him. "That's all until O.W.L.s are over. Then I'll consider adding more."

Sirius let out an exaggerated groan. "And here I thought we were at least getting some Quidditch matches out of you!"

"I'm attending the Gryffindor matches," she assured him, rolling her eyes, "but there's study time before and after, and if they run too long, I might have to rearrange the next few days to make up for lost time."

"Merlin, woman," Sirius sighed, holding a hand over his heart as if wounded. "What about those 'possible' Hogsmeade weekends?"

"Half is reserved for a date if James asks me," Hermione replied, smiling a little at the thought. "The other half is with my books."

Sirius threw his head back dramatically, groaning. "Merlin, woman, you're going to study yourself to death. How do you even find time to breathe?"

"Breathing is reserved in five-minute intervals, twice an hour," Hermione replied, her tone dry but her eyes twinkling.

Sirius clutched his heart, looking wounded. "Oh, the horror! You're turning into a prefect stereotype. I thought we avoided that horror when Lily got the badge instead of you, Kitten!"

Hermione gave him a patient smile, folding her arms. "Just because I'm organised doesn't mean I don't have room for all your antics. I know how much you boys plan for each other's birthdays. So yes, I set aside time today. Think of it as… planned spontaneity."

Sirius looked a bit affronted, crossing his arms as he muttered, "Planned spontaneity. That's practically a crime against Marauder values."

"Why don't you try telling that to Remus when we show up at his birthday with absolutely no plan?" Hermione retorted with a raised eyebrow. "I'm sure he'd appreciate the, uh, spontaneity."

James, who'd overheard them as he walked over from the other side of the common room, laughed, slinging an arm around Hermione's shoulders. "Oh, I don't know, Padfoot. I think Kitten's got a point. Marauder celebrations may look spontaneous, but we all know they're carefully crafted mayhem."

"Thank you, James," Hermione said, giving him a small smile.

Sirius grumbled, "You're all conspiring against me. Remus is going to be thoroughly disappointed if he finds out his surprise party was plotted into a study schedule."

James smirked, nudging Sirius. "Oh, come on, mate. She even blocked out April Fool's for us. And I bet she'll manage to work in a little mayhem. Maybe she'll even add a few more 'mischief sessions' before the end of term."

Hermione raised her hands in surrender, pretending to sigh. "Fine, maybe after O.W.L.s, I'll set aside some extra time for more 'unplanned spontaneity,'" she added with a mock glare at Sirius.

Sirius gave her a wide, mischievous grin. "We'll see about that. But Kitten, don't be surprised if I take that schedule of yours and add a few more… unexpected appointments."

Hermione laughed, rolling her eyes. "Just don't go swapping study sessions for 'Sirius-approved distractions' every other day. The sooner I get through these O.W.L. revisions, the sooner you'll have my undivided attention."

Sirius clapped his hands together in delight, looking like a kid about to dive into a box of Zonko's best pranks. "Brilliant! Now, onto today's festivities. You may have scheduled it, but we still have to make it a birthday Moony won't forget," he said with a wink before nodding toward the boys' dorm.

As they made their way down the corridor, Sirius raised an eyebrow at Hermione's planner, snatching a quick peek. "What's 'OT' stand for anyway? You've got it pencilled in twice a week. Highly suspicious if you ask me that you and Prongs tend to disappear from the Map right around those times."

"None of your business," Hermione replied, a faint blush rising in her cheeks as she shoved her planner into her bag.

Sirius smirked, eyes darting between them with a knowing glint. "Let me guess—Oral Time?"

James's eyes widened, and his face turned a deep shade of red. He choked out a laugh, quickly looking away as Hermione's own cheeks flared pink. Neither of them confirmed or denied Sirius's guess, but they shot each other a quick, conspiratorial look. Their "OT" sessions were Occlumency training in the Room of Requirement… though, admittedly, those sessions tended to end with intense "mouth-to-mouth" exercises of their own.

"Oi, Prongs," Sirius shook his head, laughing as he gave James a playful nudge. "You'd better be prepared for the most well-scheduled relationship of your life. Maybe I should start pencilling in some 'Sirius Distractions' on Thursdays to keep things lively, yeah?"

James grinned, finally recovering his composure as he slung an arm around Hermione. "Better mark your own calendar, Padfoot," he said, "because any schedule that involves Kitten and me? Not sure there's room for your 'distractions' after all."

The Marauders had outdone themselves this year, crafting an intricate plan for Remus's birthday that even Hermione had to admit was wildly clever. It all began with a simple note slipped under his dormitory door, enchanted to sing an off-key rendition of Happy Birthday in the voices of his three closest friends.

As Remus followed the note's instructions, he was led down various corridors and staircases, each section transforming under carefully woven spells. The first stop was an empty classroom where James had charmed every surface to mimic different phases of the moon, a surprisingly peaceful display that caught Remus off guard with its beauty. Especially the full moon one with a magically glittering rendition of all of them in their animal forms playing chase.

"Not bad, right?" James popped out from behind a suit of armour, grinning. "Thought you might appreciate a bit of, well... moonlight that doesn't involve a full transformation."

Remus laughed, nudging James's shoulder. "It's amazing, really."

But the Marauders weren't done. Next, he was directed to the Great Hall, where Sirius waited with an absurdly large "birthday cloak"—a ridiculous patchwork of all the colours and symbols that screamed "Gryffindor pride," complete with flashing letters spelling out, Moony's the Best in glowing, rotating letters. Sirius handed it over with a flourish.

"You've got to wear it at least once," Sirius insisted with a mischievous gleam in his eyes. "For the spirit of it."

"Oh, no way," Remus chuckled, examining the over-the-top cloak with a mixture of horror and delight. But Sirius had none of it, clasping the cloak around Remus's shoulders before he could protest further.

The final leg of his journey led him back to the boys dorm, where Hermione had set up an enchanted Marauder's map replica—a miniature model of Hogwarts that came to life, showing all of Remus's favourite memories across different locations instead of the people currently occupying the castle. Tiny versions of the Marauders ran along the castle pathways, leaving trails of sparkling footsteps and tiny laughter on replay.

Hermione handed Remus a cupcake, charmed to shimmer like the full moon. "Happy birthday, Remus. I couldn't top Sirius's cloak, but this map… I thought you'd like a look at all the memories you've created."

Remus looked around, taking in each piece of their effort—the ridiculous cloak, the moonlit classroom, the enchanted map, and finally the faces of his friends, each looking at him with love and amusement. He felt a warmth spread through his chest, one that had nothing to do with the spells and everything to do with the people who had planned this.

"Thanks, all of you," he said, voice thick with emotion. "I don't know what I did to deserve you lot."

Sirius slung an arm over Remus's shoulder, laughing. "Deserve us? We're the lucky ones, Moony."

And with that, the Marauders settled in for an evening of laughter, pranks, and ridiculous magic, celebrating Remus in the best way they knew how.

The mid-March full moon began as predictably as the others, with all four Marauders plus Hermione settling into their usual dynamic as they prepared to keep Moony occupied through the night. But as Sirius had shrewdly warned months before, Moony's energy was high that night, his restlessness evident in every twitch and growl, the novelty of his companions no longer keeping him in check. Padfoot, ever the enthusiastic playmate, tried to initiate a friendly tussle to burn off some of that energy, pouncing and nudging Moony's sides, but the werewolf quickly lost interest, turning instead to something else entirely.

In the flickering moonlight streaming through the boarded-up window, Moony's gaze fell on Wormtail, and before anyone could react, he bolted after the plump rat with an alarming speed. Wormtail let out a terrified squeak, scrambling over piles of blankets and dodging clumsily around furniture as Moony charged after him. James, in his stag form, glanced over in alarm, sensing that the game could quickly spiral. In the end, they had to assume it was playful, since Moony never once snapped at him with his sharp teeth, but his pursuit was relentless.

Once bored with that as well, Moony took a sharp turn to the other end of the Shack, and James moved to block off the trapdoor as Moony's attention shifted to that, the werewolf making a sudden lunge in that direction as if daring to break out.

Prongs stood his ground, positioning himself firmly to block Moony's way and giving a soft, rumbling snort as he met his friend's glowing yellow eyes. Moony stilled briefly, sizing him up with a frustrated growl, and then, without warning, a flash of white fur darted from the antlers. Kitten, as a tiny but determined ermine, launched herself onto Moony's head, curling around his ears and playfully batting at them with her little paws. She wrapped her tail securely around his neck, anchoring herself like a mischievous hat. The surprise of her sudden arrival startled Moony, and he stumbled back, distracted and confused. As he shook his head in an attempt to dislodge her, Kitten clung tightly, biting down gently on his ear, just enough to pull his focus entirely away from anything else.

Every time Moony tried to paw her off, Kitten nimbly scampered around his head, darting just out of reach and flicking her tail teasingly under his nose. She even gave a soft, rumbling purr-like sound that somehow calmed him, turning his growls into huffs as he swatted at her playfully. The others watched in relief, grateful for the reprieve, as Moony became fully absorbed in the game.

When dawn finally broke, they all shifted back, utterly exhausted and bleary-eyed. Hermione flopped onto the Shack's floor, human once more, her curls wild and eyes drooping with fatigue.

"That… was close," she muttered, pulling her robes closer around her shoulders as she leaned against the wall.

Sirius, as Padfoot, barked a triumphant laugh, stretching as he regained his human form, rubbing at his eyes as he yawned. "I told you, didn't I? Moony's got some proper wildness in him. If we don't start taking him outside soon, we're going to need more than just mustelid hats."

James rolled his eyes. "Not happening. None of us are ready for that, and—no offence, Remus—we're not going to risk anyone just because Moony gets a bit antsy in here." Hermione gave a weary nod of agreement, still catching her breath.

Remus, who was slumped on the floor, managed a grateful, if exhausted, smile. "Honestly… I'm with you on that. Besides, I don't think I could handle the guilt of dragging everyone else into a night gone wrong."

The four friends shared a look, the weight of their loyalty and trust thick in the air. They were united in their decision, all too aware of the dangers and complexities that lay ahead. And for now, the Shrieking Shack, battered and shaken but still standing, was enough.

After the full moon, there was a bit of a funny incident. Well, probably most people thought it funny, except for Remus. And Sirius in the end.

Day 1: The Allergy Excuse

Sirius Black was determined not to be sick. Sure, he'd woken up feeling a bit stuffy, and maybe he'd sneezed three times before breakfast, but that meant nothing. "It's just the March air," he insisted as he strolled to Quidditch practice, practically bouncing on his toes to prove he was perfectly fine.

After practice, however, James noticed Sirius lingering a little too close for comfort, flagging a bit and dramatically using his friend to balance himself. "Oi, Padfoot, you alright there?" James asked, laughing. "Didn't peg you as the clingy type."

Sirius waved him off dismissively, sniffling. "Oh, please, Prongs. Just appreciating your freshly showered scent, that's all." But when he let out a sudden, violent sneeze directly onto James's shoulder, he couldn't play it off so easily.

"Mate," James said, holding up his arm in disbelief, "I think half your insides are on my robes."

"It's… just the pollen," Sirius insisted, quickly dabbing at his nose. "You know, changing seasons and all."

James, however, wasn't buying it. He eyed Sirius suspiciously as his friend wiped his nose, and finally said, "Mate, it's March. There's no pollen yet."

"Don't insult my superior knowledge of plants and their seasons, Prongsie," Sirius huffed dramatically, barely disguising a sniffle.

But by the evening, the façade started to crack. Sirius's sniffles had turned into an outright symphony, and his voice sounded like he'd swallowed a Bludger. Finally, Madam Pomfrey's patience with his sneezing fits in the corridors ran out, and she dragged him into the Hospital Wing for a dose of Pepper-Up Potion.

"I'm not sick, Poppy!" he protested, but she gave him one withering look—partially for the use of her first name—practically daring him to deny it, and he finally downed the potion, his ears billowing with steam.

Remus was just glad he had been in the Library the whole time, hoping that the make out session from the day before didn't doom him as well once he had found out.

Day 2: The "I'm Definitely Not Sick" Date

The next morning, Sirius was back to his usual self. But James, who'd scoffed at his friend's "pollen" excuse, woke up with a scratchy throat and a faint headache. Still, he couldn't let a cold interfere with his plans. Hermione had carved out a precious few hours of break in her study schedule just for him, one that wasn't tied to the Occlumency training, and he wasn't about to miss it.

Splashing his face with cold water, James threw on a warm jumper under his robes and made his way to meet Hermione, who was already waiting in the courtyard, her nose buried in a book while she waited. She looked up with a soft smile as he approached, and for a moment, he forgot about his headache entirely.

"James, you look… um… a bit flushed," Hermione said, eyeing him closely.

"Oh, it's nothing." He brushed off her concern, offering a casual smile. "Just… really excited to see you. And possibly still hyped up from yesterday's practice."

But as they talked, James found himself leaning into her shoulder more than usual. His throat was dry, his voice sounded hoarse, and he had to suppress a sneeze once or twice. They cuddled up on the bench, and after a while, they shared a kiss. Then another. But when Hermione pulled back, she eyed him suspiciously.

"James Potter, are you feeling alright?"

"Perfectly fine," he said, barely managing to hide a sniffle. "I mean, maybe it's a bit cold out here, but nothing that'll keep me from this."

She sighed, shaking her head. "I believe you, but you know how Moony will get if he finds out you are sick and deliberately postponed getting a Pepper-Up."

After their date, James reluctantly made his way to the Hospital Wing, grumbling under his breath as Madam Pomfrey handed him a bottle of Pepper-Up with an almost knowing smirk.

Day 3: The Library Encounter

Meanwhile, Hermione remained blissfully unaware of James's real condition as their paths hadn't crossed the evening before, chalking up his sniffles to the March chill. By the next afternoon, however, she found herself sniffling during a study session in the library with Remus.

"Er… Hermione?" Remus asked, scooting a few inches away as she sneezed for the third time.

"Oh, don't worry, it's probably just the dust," Hermione assured him, rubbing her nose with her knuckles. "Nothing serious."

But as they worked through their books, the sneezing continued, and Remus's wary glances only increased. He'd already seen Sirius insist he wasn't sick, only to end up steam-billowing after a Pepper-Up. Then there was James, who'd sniffled through breakfast yesterday morning, pretending he hadn't noticed the concern in Remus's eyes.

Finally, as her sneezing became more frequent, Hermione couldn't deny it any longer and dragged herself to Madam Pomfrey for her own dose of Pepper-Up.

Day 4: The Last Holdout

By now, Remus had noticed a pattern. He'd watched each of his friends come down with a suspiciously similar "pollen" affliction. So when he woke up on the fourth day with a slight headache and a tickle in his throat, he knew exactly what was coming.

But unlike the others, Remus couldn't take Pepper-Up. So instead, he bundled himself up in blankets, dragged his pillow closer, and prepared for the worst, armed with his wand and several thick novels to keep him entertained. Sirius came by in the evening, giving him an apologetic grin and a blanket that he wrapped around Remus's shoulders.

"Sorry, Moony," he said, patting his shoulder. "But hey, at least it's nothing serious, right?"

Remus shot him a baleful look, his voice muffled and nasal. "I can't believe I've got you to thank for this, Padfoot."

Sirius just grinned, shoving another blanket at him. "Hey, think of it as team bonding."

Sirius smirked, eyeing Remus bundled up in his nest of blankets with a mischievous glint. "Oh, come on, Moony," he said, leaning over until his face was just inches from Remus's. "You can't be that annoyed with me." He grinned even wider and added, "Besides, I'm already immune. Just had this bug myself, remember?"

Before Remus could protest, Sirius leaned in and gave him a quick, cheeky kiss on the lips. Remus's eyes widened in exasperated disbelief, though he was too worn out to push Sirius away.

"Sirius, I swear… if you make me sicker—" Remus muttered, his voice muffled and raspy.

Sirius shrugged, looking absurdly pleased with himself. "I won't, trust me. Can't catch it twice, Moony. I've done my time in Madam Pomfrey's steam cloud."

Remus rolled his eyes, his voice laced with sarcasm. "Oh yes, you're practically a medical expert now. All this from the bloke who thought 'just pollen' was going to cover for him sneezing half the Great Hall down."

"I maintain that pollen is a very real thing," Sirius replied smugly, settling beside Remus with a casual air. "Besides, you can't prove it was directly me, Prongs and Kitten are just as likely culprits. And you'd still be in this blanket fortress, miserable. And I'd still be here annoying you, so really, we've come full circle."

Remus just sighed, but a faint smile crept onto his face as he leaned against Sirius. He tried to focus on the pages of his book, but every time he'd get to a sentence that looked interesting, Sirius would lean over to read along, brushing his hair out of the way. Remus fought the urge to shove him back under his own blanket pile.

Day 5: Revenge of the cold

The next day, Sirius strolled into the common room, looking smug as ever—until he sneezed. And then sneezed again, louder, almost doubling over.

"Oh no," Hermione said, her eyebrows raised. "Are you sure you're immune, Sirius?"

Sirius just sniffled and shot her a look of betrayal, rubbing his nose. "It's… it's nothing." But his voice was already sounding strained, and as the day wore on, his sneezes became louder and more frequent. He was finally forced back to Madam Pomfrey, who, with a long-suffering look, handed him another dose of Pepper-Up Potion, muttering about "reckless Gryffindors who think they're immune to everything."

Meanwhile, Peter had miraculously avoided the whole epidemic, watching the rest of his friends shuffle around with flushed faces and puffy eyes. "Why am I the only one not down with it?" he asked, grinning a bit too smugly.

"Maybe your immune system knows you're not worth the trouble," James replied, earning a muffled laugh that turned into a cough from Remus. Peter only shrugged, leaning back in his bed with a smirk, apparently thrilled to be the only one in Gryffindor tower who hadn't been hit.

By the end of the week, Sirius was still in bed right beside Remus, utterly miserable, despite his earlier bravado. Apparently Pepper-Up didn't always work twice on the same bug.

"Should've listened to me," Remus said with a smirk, handing Sirius another tissue. Sirius groaned, pulling his blankets up higher.

"Shut up, Moony," he mumbled, though his hand reached out to grab Remus's, holding on tight.

The Marauders had been planning James Potter's sixteenth birthday for weeks, determined to make it a day he'd remember. In true Marauder fashion, this meant mischief, camaraderie, and some well-hidden surprises throughout the castle. Unfortunately there was a last minute switch in the Quidditch match schedules due to an injury in the Hufflepuff team, causing the Gryffindor vs. Ravenclaw match to be on James's birthday instead of the Hufflepuff vs. Slytherin one that was supposed to happen. No matter they still had April 1st to execute whatever shenanigans they had initially planned for James. And it didn't mean that they couldn't get up to at least a bit of mischief.

The day started off with a bang—literally—as James woke up to an explosion of red and gold confetti bursting into the air. He sat up groggily, squinting at the sparkling Gryffindor banner that hovered above his bed. As he shifted, the whole bed shimmered and glittered with every movement, colours pulsing like embers in a fire.

"Happy 16th, Prongs!" Sirius announced, gleefully setting off a fresh puff of glitter over James's head.

James laughed, brushing the confetti out of his eyes. "Did you do this all on your own, Padfoot? Or was this a group effort?"

Sirius shrugged nonchalantly. "Let's just say I like to start things with a bang," he said with a wink, tossing more confetti in James's face. "Consider this just the opening act."

The morning didn't slow down. As James made his way to breakfast, confetti kept magically appearing every time he opened his mouth, much to the amusement of the rest of Gryffindor House. After breakfast, they all headed to the Quidditch pitch, Gryffindor spirits soaring with the prospect of the match that would inevitably lead to a celebration, win or lose, especially with James's birthday to consider. And honestly he couldn't really picture a better activity anyway.

The match was a triumph, with James scoring eight goals and Sirius performing an impressive Bludger backflip that left even the Slytherins begrudgingly impressed. The crowd roared as Gryffindor clinched the win, putting them squarely in the running for the Quidditch Cup depending on the scores of the last match of the season between Slytherin and Hufflpuff. As soon as they returned to the common room, the Gryffindor party went into full swing. Laughter and chatter filled the air, and the room was festooned with decorations—streamers of red and gold hung from the ceiling, enchanted to wave gently as if in a breeze, and the tables overflowed with treats smuggled in from Hogsmeade.

As the Gryffindor common room buzzed with victory cheers, laughter, and the occasional burst of confetti, James, in high spirits from both the Quidditch win and his birthday, pulled Hermione close with a mischievous grin. Fueled by the energy in the room, he took a step back, then dramatically dipped her low, catching her by surprise but bringing an amused smile to her face. Before she could recover, he leaned down, capturing her lips in a kiss that was bolder than usual, lingering as if there were no one else in the room.

The entire common room erupted in catcalls and whistles, laughter echoing off the walls as a few Gryffindors clapped and cheered at the spectacle. Hermione's cheeks flushed deeply, but instead of pulling away or scolding him as she might usually do, she simply laughed, her arms sliding around his neck to steady herself as he slowly brought her upright again.

James held her gaze, the grin on his face even wider, clearly proud of his little performance. "Happy birthday to me," he murmured, just for her, his voice full of warmth.

Still holding his hand, Hermione shook her head in mock exasperation, though her eyes were sparkling. "If this is how you celebrate turning sixteen, I'm not sure what to expect next year."

The two stayed close, with Hermione's hand still in his, neither making any move to break the moment, even as their friends smirked and traded knowing glances. The rest of the party, she allowed him to keep his arm around her waist or hold her hand, a rare display of open affection from her that did not go unnoticed. For James, the kiss—over-the-top and spectacular—felt like the perfect end to a perfect birthday.

But it was still not all. When the party began to wind down, the Marauders, along with Hermione, gathered in the boys' dormitory for one final surprise. The room was dimly lit, with soft lantern light casting a warm glow. Remus and Hermione stepped forward with the Marauder's Map in hand, James watching curiously as they presented it to him.

"Here's something we cooked up for you," Remus said, nodding to Hermione, who grinned as she opened the map.

There, on the cover, was a new title, carefully lettered in Remus's meticulous handwriting: Messrs Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot & Prongs & Miss Kitten are proud to present the Marauder's Map. Underneath, a small, enchanted aerial view of Hogwarts shifted slightly, giving a hint of the secrets held within.

James's eyes lit up. "You added our monikers to the map!" He looked over at Hermione, a grin spreading across his face. "This is perfect!"

"That's not all," Hermione said, smirking, quickly closing down the map in preparation. "Mischief Managed. Now, try to access the map without the password."

James gave her a curious look but complied. "Uh, reveal your secrets?"

The map instantly responded in snarky, looping script: "Miss Kitten wonders whether Mr Prongs is growing forgetful in his old age of sixteen. Can't even remember the password on his birthday."

The Marauders burst into laughter, and James snorted, trying again. "Reveal yourself, map!"

In response, the map conjured new text: "Mr Moony reckons Mr Prongs hit his head in that last match. Try again, oh great Marauder."

Hermione smirked, pleased with the effect as she leaned over James's shoulder. "I know these sound a bit tame, but the charm is really clever—it's context-based. It picks up on the caster's personality, who's trying to open it, and what was said around it. Right now, only Moony and I have added to it, but if all of you cast it on the map, it'll get even more entertaining. It practically customises itself per person."

"This is brilliant," James added, shaking his head, visibly impressed. "Teach us the spell, Kitten."

Hermione nodded, pulling her wand out. "Alright, it's an advanced charm with a few layers to it. Each of you will be adding a layer to the spell, which means it'll need your wand signatures as well as a bit of intent to personalise it. The charm essentially captures a sliver of your personality, so anything it responds with sounds authentic, as if you'd said it yourself."

The Marauders crowded in closer, eager to learn. Hermione guided them step-by-step through the process, explaining how to blend a simple memory-keeping charm with a touch of sarcastic intent. James, as the birthday boy, tried it first, murmuring the incantation and flicking his wand over the map.

Then, of course, he had to test it immediately: "Open up, map."

Instantly, the map responded with a snarky flourish of text: "Mr Prongs suggests to himself to leave immediately unless he is in dire need of an education in proper Marauding."

Hermione snorted, covering her mouth to stifle her laughter. "Perfect! Your very own addition."

Sirius pushed James aside eagerly. "Out of the way, Prongsie. Let's see what the map thinks once I'm done with it!" He grinned, pointing his wand at the map and muttering the charm Hermione had just taught him. The map paused for a moment, then displayed Sirius's new addition once triggered: "Mr Padfoot would like Mr Prongs to kindly sod off and come back when he is clever enough to guess the password."

They howled with laughter, especially at the perfect bluntness that suited Sirius to a T.

Finally, Peter stepped up, swallowing nervously but looking determined as he pointed his wand at the map. With a muttered incantation, his message flickered into view, simpler but sincere: "Mr Wormtail says if Mr Prongs needs a map this badly, he is probably lost anyway."

James clapped Peter on the back. "Brilliant! I love it. Our masterpiece."

The Marauders crowded around, testing the map and watching with delight as each 'forgotten password' triggered the newest responses.

Sirius grinned wickedly. "I can't wait to see some unsuspecting soul stumble upon this. Wouldn't mind seeing Snivellus's face when he gets a taste of these insults."

James chuckled, raising an eyebrow at the map. "He'd have to get close to the map first, which is bloody unlikely."

They continued to test the map, laughing at each new quip, as Hermione watched, proud to see each of them reflected in the map's clever responses. It felt like the Marauders' Map was finally complete, a true reflection of their friendship and spirit.

April 1st dawned with a suspicious silence over Hogwarts. The Marauders had been scheming for weeks, and now, the results of their latest masterpiece were set to unfold. By breakfast, the students and staff had begun noticing strange little details.

For starters, anyone trying to enter the Great Hall found their shoes stuck momentarily to the floor as if it were coated with invisible honey. When they finally pulled free, they were met with the sight of every piece of silverware and plate dancing in midair, performing a lively, albeit ghostly, waltz around the hall. Plates dodged attempts to grab them, only to hover back within reach and "dance" just out of hand. (Hermione would never tell, but she got the inspiration from the Beauty and the Beast Disney movie that her parents had bought for her on VHS when she came back from Hogwarts for Christmas that first year.)

The banners in each House colour had all been swapped, confusing everyone at the tables. Ravenclaws now had Gryffindor colours, Slytherin sported Hufflepuff's yellow and black, while Gryffindor found themselves surrounded by the dark green of Slytherin, leaving Hufflepuff with Ravenclaw colours, and all students equally horrified.

From his seat, Sirius nudged James, pointing at a bewildered-looking first-year Gryffindor who was eyeing the Slytherin crests around her with suspicion. "Nice touch with the house banners, don't you think?"

James smirked, trying to suppress his laughter. "That one was all Remus's idea. Good way to keep everyone on their toes."

Just as everyone was settling down, Hermione caught sight of their final touch—the pièce de résistance—a large, enchanted banner hovering above the staff table. Each Marauder had contributed a message, signed in their own style, subtly woven into the festive decor:

"Mr Moony warns that certain students may find their homework mysteriously rewritten if left unattended today."

"Mr Padfoot says to keep an eye out for surprise treats in unlikely places—but only the brave shall dare to eat them."

"Mr Prongs suggests that anyone looking for trouble check under the Slytherin tables first."

"Mr Wormtail wishes to warn students that strange noises in the corridors may or may not be actual threats."

"Miss Kitten assures you that all pranks today are intended with the utmost mischief."

Just as they finished reading, James felt a tug at his sleeve. "You're missing all the fun, Prongs," Sirius whispered, nodding toward Professor McGonagall, who was doing her best to ignore the enchanted spoons that kept hovering near her tea, trying to stir it for her.

"She's trying not to lose her patience," Remus whispered, trying to hide his grin. "I say ten Galleons she calls us out before lunch."

Hermione elbowed him, suppressing her own laugh. "We're already on thin ice."

James shrugged, his eyes twinkling mischievously. "Then let's make it count."

By the time they left the Great Hall, the castle itself seemed to echo with laughter and excitement. The Marauders hadn't gone so far as to charm the staircases, but Peeves the Poltergeist—having found out about their scheme in advance—had taken it upon himself to assist, redirecting students with misleading signs and loud, confusing taunts.

In the afternoon, Professor McGonagall finally cornered them, her lips twitching as though she were resisting a smile. "Gentlemen—and Miss Prewett," she added with a stern look at Hermione. "I don't suppose any of you would know where to find the counter-charm for today's chaos?"

Sirius grinned. "Us? Wouldn't dream of it, Professor."

McGonagall sighed, shaking her head. "Well, let's just say I expected nothing less. You've certainly outdone yourselves this year. Detention. In my office, seven o'clock."

As the Marauders and Hermione walked off, laughing, Sirius leaned in to whisper, "Think she actually enjoyed it?"

James smirked, watching McGonagall over his shoulder. "Oh, definitely. I see biscuits in our future. Same time next year?"

"Absolutely," they all agreed, already plotting April 1st of next year as they disappeared down the corridor.