The Gryffindor, Ravenclaw match
was greatly amusing for Amelia. She was sat with
Remus and Severus for a start and could hear Pomona
and Poppy keeping book behind her. In the row of seats in front of them, Filius
was jumping around excitedly, cheering on his team, while Minerva
spent the majority of the match attempting to stop Lee
Jordan, resident commentator, from
advertising Harry’s Firebolt. She could feel the
emotions around her more keenly than at the previous matches, which was
interesting, if a little wearing after a while.

“They’re off, and the big
excitement this match is the Firebolt which Harry
Potter is flying for Gryffindor. According
to Which Broomstick, the Firebolt’s going to be the broom of choice for
the national teams at this year’s World Championship –”

“Jordan,
would you mind telling us what’s going on in the match?” interrupted Minerva.
Severus sniggered to her left.

“Right you are, Professor – just
giving a bit of background information. The Firebolt, incidentally, has a
built-in auto-brake and –”

“Jordan!”

“Ok, ok, Gryffindor in
possession, Katie Bell
of Gryffindor heading for goal…”

The Gryffindors, Minerva,
Remus and herself included, cheered wildly as Katie
scored. Out of the corner of her eye Amelia noticed Harry going into a steep
dive across the pitch, the Ravenclaw seeker hot on his heels, then a Bludger,
hit by one of the Ravenclaw Beaters, came pelting out of nowhere; Harry veered
off course, narrowly avoiding it. There was a great ‘Ooooh’ of disappointment
from the Gryffindor supporters, but much applause for the Ravenclaw beater from
the Blues; Ravenclaw were indeed a good team. George
Weasley vented his feelings by hitting the
second Bludger directly at the offending Beater, who was forced to roll right
over in mid-air to avoid it.

“Gryffindor lead by eighty points
to zero, and look at that Firebolt go! Potter’s really putting
it through its paces now. See it turn – Chang’s Comet is just no match for it.
The Firebolt’s precision-balance is really noticeable in these long –”

“JORDAN!
ARE YOU BEING PAID TO ADVERTISE FIREBOLTS? GET ON WITH THE COMMENTARY!”

Behind Minerva
the majority of the staff were rolling around in their seats, wiping tears of
mirth from their eyes; Severus was once more supporting
himself on Remus and Professor Dockrill’s
loud guffaws carried forward to Dumbledore who turned. Amelia
could have sworn that the headmaster had snorted with laughter before turning
back to the game in order to maintain his composure.

Ravenclaw were pulling back; they
had now scored three goals, which put Gryffindor only fifty points ahead – if
Cho got the Snitch before him, Ravenclaw would win. Harry
dropped lower, narrowly avoiding a Ravenclaw Chaser, scanning the pitch
frantically.

He must have seen what he was
looking for as he accelerated, speeding towards the Gryffindor goal posts, only
to be blocked in a magnificent play by Chang.

Distantly, with his expert
hearing, Remus caught Wood roaring at Harry
about the appropriate timing for chivalry.

“KNOCK HER OFF HER BROOM IF YOU
HAVE TO!”

Harry
soared high above the other players, then dived – Chang followed closely, but
he swiftly pulled out of the dive in an excellent feint, before streaking off
towards the Ravenclaw end…

Chang, who had also seen the
Snitch, screamed and pointed down.

Distracted, Harry
looked down; following their line of sight, Amelia
leaned forward to see three Dementors crossing the pitch below. They looked a
little odd and she wasn’t feeling the usual cold dread seeping into her bones.
Remus grabbed her arm as he too saw the Dementors.

Above them, Harry
didn’t hesitate; he pulled his wand from his robes and fired a Patronus down at
them before grabbing the Snitch, which had unusually stayed put in the
confusion. As the stands went insane – and even Severus hummed
his appreciation for a well controlled charm – the staff hurried down to the
pitch to deal with the three would-be Dementors.

The Gryffindor team landed
heavily on the pitch behind her as Snape and Minerva rushed
forward to scream at the offending students. She, Remus and Pomona
hung back to support themselves against the stands, nearly doubled over with
the hilarity of the scene in front of them.

Composing himself, Remus went to
find Harry to show him his ‘Dementors’ as Amelia
and her colleagues continued to laugh at the crumpled remains of Malfoy, Crabbe,
Goyle and Flint’s costumes.

Snape, catching sight of Amelia
from the corner of his eye had to turn away before assembling his features into
an appropriate scowl while Minerva, purple with rage, was shouting
at the four stunned Slytherins. Amelia suspected
that if her colleague had been much angrier, she’d have been jumping up and
down.

0o0o0o0

At dinner Severus
was careful to apologise to Minerva, on behalf of his
ridiculous students, and by the end of the meal she had calmed down
sufficiently to join in the headmaster’s sardonic toast to Slytherin ingenuity.

Amelia
invited her fellow professors to her Pocket Allotment for the next Ladies
Night. Filius was allowed to join them, it was decided, since he could provide
them with a charm that would temporarily switch seasons and allow them all to
warm up a little. After arranging an appropriate time, she headed upstairs hand
in hand with Remus.

Pomona
and Filius watched them go.

“Well that’s settled then,” she
remarked.

Filius nodded, “About bloody time
too, I was beginning to think they’d never get around to one another.”

They were awoken in the early
morning by a worried looking Poppy. Together, grimly, they searched the castle
and grounds before reconvening inn Dumbledore’s office to report.

“It was the second time I’d been
down there – I thought they were continuing with the victory celebrations,” Minerva,
who was sporting a hairnet and a tartan dressing gown, was telling Poppy
(fluffy pink dressing gown, hair in rollers).

“It must have been one hell of a
party,” remarked Pomona, as she and
Severus returned from their rounds. Pomona
had on blue striped pyjamas that made Amelia’s
head hurt if the other witch moved too fast.

“It was,” agreed Minerva,
shuddering slightly at the appearance of Argus, clad only in a grubby
nightshirt and slippers.

Amelia
considered that she was seeing altogether too much of her colleagues’ nightwear
in one, terrible go.

“But then Ronald
Weasley told me he’d seen Black standing over
him with a knife – which of course I didn’t believe.”

Professor
Dockrill, who had apparently leapt from bed
with his Norse battle-axe snorted his assent.

“But then Sir
Cadogan admitted to letting him in. That
stupid Longbottom boy had written the passwords down and lost them.”

The office was quiet as the
enormity of the boy’s mistake sunk in.

Poor Neville, thought Amelia,
his life’s going to be hell after this.

When the last of the searchers
had returned, Dumbledore conjured a whiskey for everyone and they settled down,
expectantly. In the soft glow of the firelight, everyone drinking and clad in a
colourful array of flannel and cotton strongly reminded Amelia
of a folk festival she had attended a few summers previously. Despite the
sombre mood, she had to concentrate quite hard not to snort with laughter.

“It appears that Black
is long gone,” said the Headmaster wearily. “Doubtless he was attempting to
find and eliminate Harry – we may be grateful
that he didn’t succeed.”

From her corner, and resplendent
in a black satin nightgown, Madame Pince
asked the question they were all silently considering.

“But why didn’t he hurt the other
boy? We know from his past crimes that he’s ruthless.”

“Probably didn’t have time,”
answered Professor Dockrill,
gruffly.

“But he could have just silenced
him and moved on until he got the right bed,” offered Argus; to his credit, the
man sounded just as worried about the students as the others.

“Regardless,” interrupted
Dumbledore, aware that this could easily dissolve into pointless supposition.
“He got in and that’s enough to tighten security. I’ll be introducing nightly
patrols…” a couple of the staff grumbled, the rest were too on edge. “… for
which Minerva will draw up a rota. I have also asked the Fat
Lady to return to her post, alas she is understandably reluctant without a
little more protection, To this end I intend to engage some Guard Trolls.”

There was a general murmur of
approval; beside her, Severus raised an eyebrow.

“I’ve also asked the House Elves
to be vigilant on their rounds – they were, as always, eager to help.” He took
a sip of his drink.

“It seems so sad,” he mused,
apparently lost in his own thoughts, “to have to hunt for a former pupil, and
friend.”

There were nods around the room;
more than a few of the older staff members, Severus included,
glanced sadly at Remus, whose face was grim.

“I’ve asked Rubeus to speak with
the Dementors. I think, unless anyone has anything to add, we should return to
our beds. Minerva and I will take the first watch.”

Subdued, the staff filed out.

“That could have been a lot
worse,” remarked Severus quietly, as the three of them made
their way across the courtyard.

Amelia
agreed fervently, “I bet none of the Gryffindors will sleep tonight.”

“I don’t think any of us will,”
responded Lupin, stretching.

0o0o0o0

The following day was spent
murder-proofing the castle. Filius could be seen teaching the front doors to
recognise a large picture of Sirius Black; Filch was suddenly bustling up and
down the corridors, boarding up everything from tiny cracks in the walls to
mouse holes. Amelia spent the day helping Pomona
plant some particularly large Tentacula plants and Devils Snare bushes around
the castle’s more vulnerable points.

As she worked, she worried about
her cousin. She could feel her fear, compounded by the fact that the friend
whose welfare she had in mind still wouldn’t speak to her. She’d always known
when Hermione was in trouble, even before she’d realised what that ability
really was. A few years back she’d hidden behind the gates of Hermione’s junior
school, waiting for that prickle of fear to appear in the back of her mind
before marching in and bollocking her bullies. On excavation in the Northern
Isles, she’d woken up sweating the night Hermione and her friends had followed
Quirrell down the trapdoor in the third floor corridor on the right and
fainted, she realised, at the exact moment that Hermione had been Petrified by
the Basilisk in Second year.

So now, as Hermione was worried,
she was worried.

On Tuesday morning, Neville
received a Howler from his grandmother – a formidable woman by all accounts;
only ever having heard of them before, Amelia watched with great interest as
the post owls swooped away and Neville ran, white faced from the Great Hall.

They heard the Howler go off in
the Entrance Hall – Neville’s grandmother’s voice, magically magnifies to a
hundred times its usual volume, shrieking about how he had brought shame on the
whole family.

She shook her head and shared a
look with Hermione. Poor lad, their minds echoed.

0o0o0o0

Later that evening Hermione was
struggling with her homework – a fact that continued to irk her – when she
overheard Harry and Ron’s
whispered conversation in the common room.

They haven’t even noticed I’m
here! She thought angrily.

“Hogsmeade, next weekend!” said Ron,
craning over the heads of the students crowding around the notice board. “What
d’you reckon?” he added quietly to Harry as they
sat down.

“Well Filch hasn’t done anything
about the passage into Honeydukes,” said Harry,
even more quietly.

Hermione lost all semblance of
patience.

“Harry!”
she hissed in his ear, making both boys jump. “Harry,
if you go into Hogsmeade again… I’ll tell Professor
McGonagall about that map!”

“Can you hear someone talking, Harry?”
growled Ron, not looking at her.

Why couldn’t they understand how
stupid this was?

“Ron,
how can you let him go with you? After what Sirius Black nearly did to you!
I mean it, I’ll tell –”

“So now you’re trying to get Harry
expelled!” said Ron furiously, turning to glare
at her. “Haven’t you done enough damage this year?”

Hermione, who was by this point
fuming, opened her mouth to tell Ron exactly
what she thought of him when Crookshanks leapt onto her lap. Suddenly afraid of
the look in her former friend’s eyes, she gathered up Crookshanks and hurried
up to the girls dormitories.

Still furious, she put
Crookshanks down on the bed and tried to compose herself.

Amelia’s right, she
thought, they still think they’re immortal. The same notion, one which
she had clung to when they had pitched themselves into the trapdoor under
Fluffy, Hagrid’s three-headed dog, had been roughly disposed of when she’d
stared uncomprehendingly at the rubble that had been her parents’ house, a year
and a half ago.

She grabbed her fabric scrap bag
and practically ran to Lupin’s office; still in the Common Room, Harry
and Ron didn’t even see her go. After getting no
response to her knocks, she slipped through the office door and padded across
to the tank.

The pixies greeted her warmly and
she lowered the scrap bag gently into the tank, helping the pixie mother choose
new fabrics for her family as a going away present; the youngest pixie, a tiny
girl, kept getting tangled up in the brightly coloured scraps and was whooping
happily.

She stayed there for a while
before bidding her tiny friends farewell; the pixies waved their friend sadly
out of sight. They’d rather liked their lonely human friend.

0o0o0o0

On Saturday morning, Harry
packed his Invisibility Cloak in his bag, slipped the Marauder’s Map into his
pocket and went down to breakfast with everyone else. Hermione kept shooting
suspicious looks down the table at him, but he avoided her eye, and was careful
to let her see him walking back up the marble staircase in the Entrance Hall as
everyone else proceeded to the front doors.

“Bye!” Harry
called to Ron. “See you when you get back!”

Ron,
never the least conspicuous co-conspirator, grinned and winked.

Harry
hurried up to the third floor, slipping the Marauders' Map out of his pocket as
he went. Crouching behind the one-eyed witch, he smoothed it out. A tiny dot
was moving in his direction. Harry squinted at
it. The miniscule writing next to it read ‘NevilleLongbottom’.

Harry
quickly pulled out his wand, muttered “Dissendium!” and shoved his bag
into the statue, but before he could climb in himself, Neville came around the
corner.

“Harry!
I forgot you weren’t going to Hogsmeade either!”

“Hi, Neville,” said Harry,
moving swiftly away from the statue and pushing the map back into his pocket.
“What are you up to?”

“Nothing,” shrugged Neville.
“Want a game of Exploding Snap?”

“Er – not now – I was going to go
to the library and do that vampire essay for Lupin-”

“I’ll come with you!” said
Neville, brightly. “I haven’t done it either!”

“Er – hang on – yeah, I forgot, I
finished it last night!”

“Brilliant, you can help me!”
said Neville, his round face anxious. “I don’t understand that thing about the
garlic at all – do they have to eat it, or –”

Neville broke off with a small
gasp, looking over Harry’s shoulder. It was
Snape. Neville took a quick step behind Harry.

“And what are you two doing
here?” said Snape, coming to a halt and looking from one to the other. “An odd
place to meet –”

To Harry’s
immense disquiet, Snape’s black eyes flicked to the doorways on either side of
them, and then to the one-eyed witch.

“We’re not – meeting here,” said Harry.
“We just – met here.”

“Indeed?” said Snape (who, apart
from his new suspicions about the statue of the one-eyed witch, was enjoying
irking Harry; he was also not an idiot). “You
have a habit of turning up in unexpected places, Potter, and you are rarely
there for no reason…” Not unkindly, he added, “I suggest the pair of you return
to Gryffindor Tower
where you belong.”

Harry
and Neville set off without a word. As they turned the corner, Harry
looked back. Snape was running one of his hands over the one-eyed witch’s head,
examining it closely.

Harry managed to shake Neville
off at the Fat Lady by telling him the password then pretending he’d left his
vampire essay in the library and doubling back*. Once out of sight of the
security trolls, he pulled out the map again and held it close to his nose.

The third floor corridor seemed
to be deserted. Harry scanned the map carefully
and saw, with a leap of relief, that the tiny dot labelled ‘Severus
Snape’ was now back in its office.

He sprinted back to the one-eyed
witch, opened her hump, heaved himself inside and slid down to meet his bag at
the bottom of the stone chute. He wiped the Marauders’ Map blank again, then
set off at a run.

0o0o0o0

Lupin, having packed the pixies
off, spent the afternoon marking; Amelia was
spending the afternoon in Hogsmeade trying to cheer her cousin up, and had
enlisted the help of young Ginny Weasley in the process.

He had been growing increasingly
bored as the pile dwindled and time marched on. He’d just begun a dire effort
by one of the Patil twins when his fireplace sprung to life. Snape’s voice
emanated forth, made sinister by the green glow of the fire.

“Lupin! I want a word.” He didn’t
sound like he was in a great mood.

Sighing, he strode towards the
fireplace; Severus’s tone suggested that their current truce
was probably on hold.

As he entered Snape’s office, he
quickly discovered why. He eyed a worried looking Harry
as he brush ash off his already fraying clothes.

“You called, Severus?”
he said, mildly.

“I certainly did,” said Severus,
looking truly furious as he strode back to his desk. “I have just asked Potter
to empty his pockets. He was carrying this.”

Snape pointed at the parchment,
on which the words of Messrs Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot and Prongs were still
shining. Remus read it through a few times.

‘Mr Moony presents his
compliments to Professor Snape, and begs him to keep his abnormally large nose
out of other people’s business’

‘Mr Prongs agrees with Mr
Moony, and would like to add that ProfessorSnape is an ugly git.’

‘MrPadfoot would like to register
his astonishment that an idiot like that ever became a Professor.’

‘Mr Wormtail bids Professor
Snape good day, and advises him to wash his hair, the slimeball.’

Remus hoped that the blush that
was starting somewhere below his collar wouldn’t get any further.

Crap.

He desperately hoped that his
face was as blank as he thought it was.

“Well?” said Snape.

He continued to stare at the map,
trying to come up with something plausible. Despite his newfound friendship
with the old snake, he didn’t want to drop Harry
in it, nor expose himself as the evil genius that he’d once been.

“Well?” said Snape again.
“This parchment is plainly full of Dark Magic. This is supposed to be your area
of expertise, Lupin. Where do you imagine Potter got such a
thing?”

Remus looked up, glancing at Harry
to ensure that he’d play along.

“Full of Dark Magic?” he repeated
mildly. “Do you really think so, Severus? It looks to me as
though it is merely a piece of parchment that insults anybody that tries to
read it. Childish, but surely not dangerous? I imagine Harry
got it from a joke-shop-”

“Indeed?” said Snape. His jaw had
gone rigid with anger. “You think a joke-shop could supply him with such a
thing? You don’t think it more likely that he got it directly from the
manufacturers?”

Remus gulped mentally, but
managed to appear confused in front of Harry; of
course Severus would know their nicknames! He tried to make
his expression tell Severus that this was impossible and that
he’d fill him in later.

“You mean Mr
Wormtail or one of these people?” he said. “Harry,
do you know any of these men?”

Thankfully, Harry
looked appropriately blank.

“No,” he replied, quickly.

“You see, Severus?”
said Remus, turning back to Severus. “It looks like a Zonko
product to me –”

Right on cue, Ron
came bursting into the office. He was completely out of breath and stopped just
short of Snape’s desk, clutching the stitch in his chest and trying to speak.

“I – gave – Harry
– that – stuff,” he choked. “Bought – it – in – Zonkos – ages –ago…”

Silently applauding the Marauding
spirit that was clearly alive and well in these boys, he clapped his hands
together cheerfully and said:

“Well! That seems to clear that
up! Severus, I’ll take this back, shall I?” He folded the map
and tucked it inside his robes. “Harry, Ron,
come with me, I need a word about my vampire essay. Excuse us, Severus.”

As he shepherded the boys out of
the office in front of him, he turned and mouthed ‘I’ll explain later’
to Severus, who narrowed his eyes, but gave a curt nod.

He marched them along until they
reached the Entrance Hall, wrestling with anger that Harry was careless enough
to sneak into Hogsmeade despite the recent attack and oddly proud that the
midnight wanderings of himself and his old school friends were being put to
good use.

Harry
broke the silence.

“Professor, I –”

“I don’t want to hear
explanations,” said Remus shortly. He glanced around the empty Entrance Hall
and lowered his voice. “I happen to know that this map was confiscated by Mr
Filch many years ago. Yes, I know it’s a
map,” he said, as Harry and Ron
looked amazed. “I don’t want to know how it fell into your possession. I am
however, astounded that you didn’t hand it in. Particularly after what
happened the last time a student left information about the castle lying
around. And I can’t let you have it back, Harry.”

The boy appeared to ignore this
and continued.

“Why did Snape think I’d got it
from the manufacturers?” he asked.

“Because…” Lupin hesitated. He’d
have to choose his words carefully. “Because these mapmakers would have wanted
to lure you out of the school. They’d think it extremely entertaining.”

We certainly would, he
thought quietly, and while James,
Peter and I would be proud of you
– and ourselves – the man that used to be Sirius would enjoy it a little too
much. He decided that a lecture was in order.

“Do you know them?” asked Harry,
impressed.

“We’ve met,” he said shortly. He
looked at Harry sternly. “Don’t expect me to
cover up for you again, Harry. I cannot make you
take Sirius Black seriously. But I would have thought that what you have heard
when the Dementors draw near you would have had more of an effect on you. Your
parents gave their lives to keep you alive, Harry.
A poor way to repay them – gambling their sacrifice for a bag of magic tricks.”

He left the boys then and headed
straight for Amelia’s rooms, too excited, even
in his anger, not to show his lover this remarkable artefact of pranks past.

He found her there, having
returned early from Hogsmeade. Although she chided him for, even indirectly,
causing trouble with Severus again, she too was excited about
the map and after he taught her the charms they watched parchment together.

The tiny dot marked ‘Hermione
Granger’ met the two dots marked ‘Harry
Potter’ and ‘Ronald
Weasley’ and after what appeared to be a
brief conversation they were heartened to see the three dots move into the
Gryffindor Common Room together.

“It’s beautifully penned,” Amelia
remarked as she marvelled at the detail of the thing.

Remus beamed.

“That was me,” he admitted
proudly. “The others did most of the – research – Pete
made a fantastic lookout.”

Amelia
smiled at him. “I take it you were ‘Mr Moony’”

“Not the most flattering
nickname, I have to admit,” he blushed.

“No,” she agreed. “It’ll give us
a good way of keeping an eye out for Black though – I’m assuming that you’d
like to keep this between the two of us for now?”

Remus nodded.

“I’d like to tell Severus
too, I think – I owe it to him.”

She smiled back at him, and he
noticed again how pretty she was when she smiled.

“…Apparently you’re up for a bit
of mischief yourself,” he said, with a smirk.

Amelia
gave him a look that made him catch his breath. She tilted her head to one side
appraisingly. “You’re cute when you blush,” she said, and kissed him, hard.

His hands snaked around her back
as hers found their way into his short brown hair.

After a few minutes of hazy
delight Remus remembered the map and reached for his wand.

“Mischief managed,” he commanded
breathlessly as the map folded up.

“Oh, absolutely,” Amelia
laughed, before turning her attention back to the task at hand.

0o0o0o0

*Which personally, I think was
rotten of him. Neville’s his friend – the least he could do is break them both
out for the day. Humph. Teenagers.