The Hogwarts Extras And The Marauder'S Map

Long-time friends Mikaela and Madeline are not so different-- they're both stubborn, creative, and generally well-meaning. Or so they thought, until they arrived at Hogwarts and got placed into completely different houses: Gryffindor and Slytherin, respectively. Still, even though they don't get to share a common room, Hogwarts is bursting at the seams with adventures and shenanigans for two first-years to get into. And what could possibly go wrong when they happen across a wonderful piece of parchment that shows all the secret passages in the school? When Harry, Ron, and Hermione are off on exciting adventures, what are the other Hogwarts students getting up to? What's life like for the Hogwarts Extras? Partial credit goes to Mikaela McParlan, whose URL here is mamabear. Everyone go friend her, now.
Updates will be frequent.

Last Updated

05/31/21

Chapters

12

Reads

5,910

Flags In Red And Green

Chapter 12

With finals done, and Voldemort apparently defeated one night while I was peacefully reading Zombie and Inferi: a Travel Companion, there was very little to do around Hogwarts for the last few days except toss a quaffle around in the courtyard and experiment with the moving staircases, which Snape docked points from Gryffindor for when Mikaela accidentally hit him with her body trying to land a jump. Another experiment we tried, though we didn’t verbally call it one, was inviting Lavender, Neville, Parvati, Tracey, and Millicent to have a picnic together underneath the tree in the center of the courtyard. I didn’t think it smart to invite Daphne, since she was just a little bit of a sociopath. Mikaela was on the edge about Millicent as well, but I assured her we wouldn’t let anything get out of hand. Millicent was much shyer than she seemed. It was awkward, and strained, but at the end of the hour, Parvati was laughing at Tracey’s morbid jokes, and Neville seemed to get more comfortable around girls. Lavender remained wary the whole time, but Lavender was a ridiculous human being, and there would be no helping her.


Neville Longbottom singlehandedly stole the House Cup from Slytherin that year, or so I accused him of doing.


“I’ll never forgive you, Neville. Never.” I told him as we hauled all our junk out to the train. Truthfully I could have cared less about Dumbledore giving our trophy away. It was somewhat rewarding to watch Draco suffer.


Our exam grades came back, and I did just as I expected-- passed with flying colors in Potions, reasonably good in Charms, Herbology was a flat mess, Defense Against the Dark Arts was about the equivalent of a B-, but since Quirrell turned out to be Voldemort I questioned whether it would count towards a credit, and I managed to scrape a passing grade in Transfiguration, mysteriously enough. Mikaela did much better in Transfiguration and Herbology than me, not understanding how I could possibly manage to kill something called armor root, but my Potions mark was better than Hermione’s (she made sure to check) which gave me Genius Rights.


As happy as Hogwarts had become, I was glad the year was over. We rolled passed muggle towns and houses, eating chocolate frogs and agreeing to burn all our homework upon homecoming. 


“I’m glad we’re going home.” Mikaela said, echoing my thoughts. “Are you glad, Neville? You’ve turned into a real hero, you know.”


“Yeah. I haven’t written my Gran about it yet. She’ll be real pleased, I think.”


“How can you be so naive?” I asked the two of them seriously.


“What?” Mikaela asked.


“We’re not going home.” I said. I lowered my face. “This was just a set up.”


“What are you talking about.” Mikaela said, unamused.


“This train is taking us.... to a sausage grinder!!” I shouted. Neville jumped, and his chocolate frog hopped away.



Thank you for reading this! This fanfiction is dedicated to my very best friend, who is more brave of heart than anyone else I know. Even when the task feels impossible and we realize we were stupid to try it in the first place, remember that we always come out alive in the end, and it's always the most convoluted schemes, blowing up in our faces, that shape us the most. I hope this story is always a source of happiness for you. I hope you read it to your grandkids. They'll be all, "what the hell is this shit, Grandma?" and you'll be all, "this is the internet, dammit! Kids these days can't even tell grumpy cat from lolcats. Now get me my banjo." and I'll be all, "hey bros, can I live here? I got kicked out of the nursing home because I was harboring convicted felons for cash." And that's how our friendship story will end. In a house full of grandkids and felons.

I got really off track. I'm sorry. What I'm trying to say, best friend, is that you're strong, and I believe in you. Even when you mess up. Even when I mess up and you get stuck fixing it (which happens a lot). Even when we're faced with an impossible problem, when everything seems unfixable. I believe in you, and I'll help you, and I'm a better person for knowing you.

Thanks for twelve years of antics.

To everyone else, lemme know if you want to see more of this. Hope you were sufficiently entertained!


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