The Marauder's Map

Ever since Rose told them how to enter the Room of Requirement, the Marauders had gone out on more nighttime excursions, and the gems in Gryffindor's hourglass had dwindled at a visible rate.

Faced with an angry Lily and Mary, Rose felt a little guilty. If not for her, they wouldn't have spent night after night wandering the castle, all to uncover the secrets hidden deeper within it.

But she couldn't exactly sneak into the boys' dormitory in the middle of the night and tie them all to their beds to keep them from going out.

So, just after a History of Magic lesson, she took advantage of the fact that the boys had only just woken up and hadn't rushed out of the classroom the moment class ended as usual. She hurried over to them and asked how the Marauder's Map was coming along.

"The Marauder's Map?" James repeated groggily, the term sounding a little unfamiliar to him. "What's it for?"

The English name of the Marauder's Map translated literally as "the map of marauders," a word that wasn't used often in everyday life.

"Uh-" Rose realized awkwardly that they hadn't even thought of making a map yet, so she patiently explained, "A map of the castle that shows people's names and things like that—so you won't be as easily caught when you go wandering at night."

She struggled to control her stiff tongue, trying to make it pronounce the words properly. She felt embarrassed showing off her knowledge in front of the creators, and the History of Magic classroom seemed hotter than ever.

"Brilliant idea!" James Potter's eyes lit up. "Sirius, isn't that pretty much what you were telling me about the other day?"

Sirius leaned against a desk, staring at Rose without looking away.

"Why is your neck so red?" James asked in surprise. "Is it that hot in here?"

Rose glanced at Sirius, who was looking down at her, and vaguely echoed James's words, saying she was practically about to faint from the heat. She exaggeratedly used her hand as a fan, fanning herself nonstop.

"Making a map would require some very advanced charms," Remus said, shaking his head. "I don't think we can manage it yet."

"Of course not. It's just an idea," Rose said. "We can start by drawing a rough map of the castle, then try adding the students' names."

"Every wizard is registered in the Book of Admittance from birth," Sirius said abruptly. "I think it's like the Trace. The Ministry of Magic can use the Trace to locate underage wizards, and we can use that too."

"As long as someone's a wizard, there'll always be magical fluctuations," Remus said.

"But what about a Squib?" Rose raised the possibility. Although Squibs generally weren't admitted to Hogwarts, and the current castle caretaker-old caretaker Apollyon Pringle—was a wizard who had been expelled before graduating and had little magic, his successor, Filch, was a Squib.

"Rose is right. We need to consider that possibility too," James said with a nod.

They lost track of time discussing it in the History of Magic classroom. Students for the next lesson began filing in, and several older Ravenclaws looked at them curiously.

"This isn't the place to talk." James made a face at her. "Let's go there tonight—you know where!"

"A room where we can talk," Sirius whispered close to her ear as she got up.

Rose didn't know what was wrong with him, always insisting on speaking right next to people's ears, but whenever she imagined Sirius talking to James or Remus like that, she couldn't help feeling a little like laughing.

Sirius watched with satisfaction as she unconsciously tilted her head again and rubbed her ear. The movement caught a few strands of hair beside her ear, leaving them sticking out in all directions and making her look very cute.

The evening before last, Madam Pince had written to ask whether she could come help at the library on Thursday afternoon—the little first-year brats were always putting books back wherever they pleased!

Rose had written back that she would be delighted to come, and they had agreed to discuss it in more detail at the library at three in the afternoon.

After lunch, Rose went straight to the library. She still had half a Defence Against the Dark Arts essay to finish.

The library was quiet that afternoon. A handful of students were tucked away in shadowy corners, and the rarely seen sunlight streamed through the tall floor-to-ceiling windows, illuminating tiny specks of dust drifting through the air.

The essay was titled "How to identify and deal with vampires." Rose kept poking her chin with her quill, trying to drive phrases like "sparkles in sunlight" and "has no body heat" out of her head. She couldn't very well tell Professor Bosde, if he asked, "I happen to know a vampire like that. His name is Edward."

She racked her brains and pieced together what she could, until her eyelids finally grew too heavy and she fell asleep with her head on her arms.

It seemed she had slept for ten minutes, or perhaps a very, very long time. Rose woke with a start, rubbed her dry eyes twice, and blinked hard a couple of times, trying to make out the boy standing beside her.

"Gryffindors read this sort of book too?" It was Snape. He stood at the end of the bookshelf with the light behind him, staring inscrutably at the corner of The Origins and Rise of Dark Magic sticking out from under Rose's arm.

"This sort of book?" Rose pulled it out and shot back, "What sort of book? Dark Magic?"

"Does Lily know you read this sort of book?" Snape asked slowly, pronouncing each word.

"I don't think I need anyone's permission to read a book," Rose said coldly. His inexplicable behavior had made her a little angry. Snape sounded as though he'd caught her doing something shameful.

"It seems we're the same. Perhaps you're the one who really should have been in Slytherin," Snape said cuttingly. He didn't understand why he felt a flicker of relief and secret delight. If Lily discovered that Claude studied Dark Magic, then when he was found out one day, could he be forgiven too?

"Magic is divided into dark and light, but the standard for sorting them isn't how much harm they cause, Snape," Rose retorted. "It's the human heart."

"Let yourself pursue power and authority, and you'll inevitably lose what you treasure most." Voldemort pursued absolute power and immortality, yet in the end, his life was shorter than that of a wizard far less powerful than him. Peter Pettigrew was timid and fearful, always seeking powerful protection, but the dozen or so years after he joined Voldemort could be said to have been worse than death.

"Snape, we're fundamentally different. That's why the Sorting Hat chose Gryffindor for me." Rose stood up, used her wand to return several books to their places, and packed the parchment scattered across the table back into her bag.

Snape said nothing more.

"Take a good look at your own heart, Snape," she said at last.

It wasn't impossible that Lily had liked Snape. In the original story, he did have admirable qualities, but the price of all that was Lily's death. Before then, he had always chosen the Death Eaters.