November 16, 1992, Monday
By breakfast, Hogwarts was already humming with rumours.
It never ceased to amaze me how efficiently panic could travel through a castle this size. A single whisper could become a dozen tales by the time it reached the Great Hall, each one worse than the last. By now, the students were convinced that the creature had claws the size of broomsticks, that it could fly, and that it was currently nesting in the Slytherin common room.
I heard one Hufflepuff solemnly declare that it had eaten half of Colin Creevey before anyone found him. I didn't have the heart (or patience) to correct them.
The teachers, of course, had already done their part to calm the storm. Dumbledore's announcement had been brief and to the point, another attack, similar to the one on Halloween, and that every precaution was being taken. But no mention of a basilisk. Which is good, because that kind of truth would send the entire castle screaming for the gates.
As for me, I had to appear unshaken. Confidence, after all, is a kind of magic in itself.
When I entered the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom, the chatter dropped to a low buzz. Dozens of wary eyes followed me as I crossed to the front, some anxious, others curious, and a few downright desperate for reassurance. One would have thought the sixth-years would be far more composed.
"Good morning, class," I began, sweeping my cloak behind me as I turned toward the board. "I trust you all had a restful weekend?"
A few uncertain murmurs. Not exactly the eager energy I preferred.
I smiled brightly anyway. "Excellent. Today, we'll be continuing our study of defensive spells and counter-curses, though I imagine-" I clasped my hands together and leaned forward, "-you're all far more interested in current events than in your textbooks."
That got their attention.
Percy Weasley, sitting perfectly upright as always, raised his hand first. "Professor Lockhart, sir, is it really true that a student's been petrified this time?"
I allowed a solemn pause before answering. "It is true that there has been another incident," I said carefully. "But the Headmaster and I are doing everything in our power to ensure your safety."
Penelope Clearwater, her prefect badge gleaming under the light, spoke next, voice tight with concern. "Do we know what's causing it, Professor? Some of the portraits say the Chamber of Secrets has been opened again."
Ah, there it was. The inevitable question.
Marcus Flint, lounging lazily in the back row, snorted. "Oh, come off it, Clearwater. You really think there's some hidden monster under the school?"
Penelope shot him a glare. "People said the same thing on Halloween. And now a student's been attacked."
Before they could devolve into house bickering, I raised a hand for silence. "Now, now, let's not leap to conclusions," I said, in what I hoped was my most soothing yet authoritative tone. "The Chamber of Secrets is an old legend, a fascinating one, of course, but since no one has ever found it, it's still just that, a legend. What we do know is that a dangerous creature is on the loose, and that's quite enough reason to be cautious."
I let that hang in the air for a moment, scanning the faces before me. "You have my word," I continued, voice steady, "that I will personally see to it that the culprit is found and this danger neutralised. You're safe as long as you follow instructions and keep to the designated corridors."
Percy nodded approvingly, no doubt reassured by any promise that sounded official. Penelope looked only half-convinced, though I saw the flicker of gratitude in her eyes. After all, she's also a muggleborn, a possible target for the so-called heir of Slytherin. And Flint muttered something that sounded suspiciously like show-off, but I chose to ignore it.
One mustn't argue with the youth, especially when one is busy being admired.
"Now," I said briskly, clapping my hands, "enough grim talk. Let's put that nervous energy to good use! Wands out, same partners as last time. Today, we'll practice the Shield Charm, the real kind, not the showy dueling version."
As the students got up, the murmur of voices returned, though this time tinged with purpose rather than fear. I caught snippets as they paired off: Lockhart's not scared at all, He said he'll deal with it himself, Maybe it's true, maybe he really did fight vampires once.
Well. It wasn't exactly the kind of fame I used to enjoy, but I'd take what I could get.
Still, as I watched them cast their imperfect shields, I couldn't shake the weight in my chest. Every promise I'd just made, every confident word, had been built on uncertainty.
And I hated uncertainty.
Because deep down, I knew that before this was over, I'd have to face the creature myself. And charm and perfect hair would only get me so far.
…
The class ended with the satisfying sound of applause, mostly polite, admittedly, though I caught a few genuine smiles. I dismissed the students with a wave of my wand and a reminder to "practice magic responsibly, not in corridors, not on portraits, and preferably not on younger students."
But once the door shut behind the last of them, my smile faded.
If Colin Creevey's attack proved anything, it was that I couldn't take the future for granted.
So, time for a more hands-on approach, as I had promised myself.
The most obvious step was to guard the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets, the cursed lavatory haunted by Moaning Myrtle. I could plant an alarm charm or a magical ward there, something discreet yet effective. The idea was tempting… but it wouldn't work.
Tom Riddle, or rather, the fragment of his soul lodged within Ginny Weasley's diary, would notice the moment I tampered with the entrance. He was too clever, too paranoid. He would simply move his plans forward, or worse, release the basilisk in retaliation.
No, that approach would be reckless.
Then perhaps I could assign a protector, a house-elf, maybe, to watch over Ginny in secret. Hogwarts elves could move unseen, and their magic was unpredictable enough that even a fragment of Voldemort might overlook it. But no, that was risky too. If Riddle sensed surveillance, he might make Ginny discard the diary altogether, vanish into another host, and I'd lose my chance to destroy it for good.
Tracking charm, then? Simple, elegant…
And completely useless. The moment a magical tracker latched onto Ginny, Riddle would feel it.
I leaned back against my desk, pinching the bridge of my nose. No charms, no interference, no obvious moves. That left only one method, indirect surveillance. Something that could show me where everyone was at all times, without alerting the culprit.
And I knew the perfect artifact for this job.
The Marauders Map.
An enchanted map of Hogwarts that revealed the position of every person inside the castle, including ghosts, professors, and students. A legendary artifact of mischief and brilliance. And if memory served, it was already in the hands of a pair of redheaded troublemakers who practically radiated chaotic potential.
The Weasley twins.
I allowed myself a small smile. "Well then," I murmured. "Time to call in a favour they don't know they owe me."
It wasn't difficult to find them. The twins had a habit of occupying the best spot in their common room, near the fireplace, surrounded by giggling students and the faint smell of something that was either butterbeer or experimental potion.
I slipped in unnoticed at first, lingering just long enough to confirm my suspicion: the faint hum of concealed magic coming from their school bag. Oh yes, the map was there.
I cleared my throat lightly. "Messrs Weasley."
Both heads turned in perfect synchrony, identical smirks of mischief.
"Well, if it isn't our valiant Defence professor," said Fred, leaning back dramatically.
"To what do we owe the honour?" added George.
I smiled, stepping closer and setting up a small privacy ward so the other students wouldn't hear. "Let's just say I'm in need of a certain… cartographic curiosity you happen to possess."
Their smirks faltered just a little.
George blinked. "Carto… what?"
Fred frowned. "You mean a map?"
"Indeed," I said, lowering my voice conspiratorially. "A very special map. One that shows people moving about the castle, for instance."
The silence that followed was almost comical. Finally, Fred said, "And how, exactly, do you know about that, Professor?"
"Oh," I said lightly, "let's just say I knew the people who made it."
That earned me twin looks of stunned curiosity. "You knew them?" George asked.
"Quite well," I said, pacing slowly before the fire. "Brilliant boys, all of them. Masters of mischief and magic in equal measure. I believe they called themselves… the Marauders."
Fred's eyes lit up. "That's what it says on the map! Messrs. Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs!"
"Indeed," I said with a knowing nod. "Though I doubt they'd appreciate you using their masterpiece for something as simple as finding corridor shortcuts."
The twins exchanged a look, excitement warring with suspicion. "So, what's the deal, Professor?" George said at last. "You want to borrow it?"
"Precisely," I said. "Only for a short while. I assure you, it's for a matter of utmost importance, the safety of Hogwarts itself."
Fred raised an eyebrow. "And what do we get in return?"
I smiled. "Ah, clever lads. Always thinking ahead."
I leaned in slightly. "How about this: for every day I borrow the map, I'll give you a clue about the Marauders, who they were, what they did, and where they are now. You could try to puzzle out their identities from my hints."
The twins glanced at each other, and identical grins spread across their faces.
"That's… actually brilliant," said Fred.
"Far more fun than just asking names," added George.
"So it's a deal," I said, extending my hand.
They shook it eagerly, both at once.
George pulled open his bag and produced a folded piece of parchment that looked perfectly ordinary. "Just say, I solemnly swear that I am up to no good," he said, eyes gleaming, "and the map will reveal itself."
I took it reverently, feeling the faint vibration of numerous enchantments humming beneath the surface. "Marvelous craftsmanship," I murmured. "They'd be proud you're putting it to good use."
Fred tilted his head. "You're really not going to tell us who they are, are you?"
"Where's the fun in that?" I said, smiling as I slipped the map into my cloak. "You'll get your first clue tomorrow, gentlemen. For now, keep this little exchange between us."
"Cross our hearts," said George with mock solemnity.
"And may Peeves explode our trunks if we tell," added Fred.
"Excellent," I said, turning toward the door. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a monster to track."
And as I left the common room, I couldn't help but feel a spark of satisfaction. With this map in my hands, I definitely wouldn't be caught off-guard again.
And that, I thought, might make all the difference.
…