Ch 109
"I solemnly swear that I am up to no good."
Malfoy, dressed in his pajamas, lay comfortably on his small bed and tapped the old parchment gently with his wand.
Before doing so, he had already cast a layer of light-absorbing charm around his bed to make sure the faint glow would not disturb his sleeping roommates.
Almost at once, thin lines of ink began to spread from the spot where the wand had touched the parchment. The lines twisted and intertwined, stretching toward every corner of the page. Then elegant green letters slowly appeared at the top:
Messrs Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs
Purveyors of Aids to Magical Mischief
are proud to present
The Marauder's Map
The words faded, and new lines surfaced beneath them:
Mr Moony welcomes the new owner of the map and hopes he will use it well.
Mr Prongs declares he is not pleased to see a Slytherin user.
Mr Padfoot says he does not mind the owner's identity, and only hopes the great career of mischief will continue.
Mr Wormtail agrees with them all.
After those teasing greetings, the ink dissolved completely into the parchment, and the true map unfolded before Malfoy's eyes.
Black lines sketched the entire structure of Hogwarts—towers, corridors, staircases, even hidden passages—so detailed that Malfoy could only describe the creators as geniuses.
Wizards often gave the impression of being above ordinary craftsmanship, as if magic alone solved everything. Because of that, few people truly understood the value of the Marauder's Map. To most, it was simply a clever chart. Yet this magical item was far more than that.
What was the first step to drawing any map?
Naturally, it was to know the territory intimately.
The Marauders' exploration of Hogwarts had surpassed every generation before them. Three Animagi among four students had been like giving wings to a tiger. In the entire twentieth century, registered and unregistered Animagi together numbered barely more than a dozen—and the Marauders alone made up a shocking portion of that total.
No one would suspect a black dog or a rat of being an Animagus, just as no Muggle would assume a passerby on the street was a wizard. This disguise had made their nightly adventures effortless.
During the full moons, to help Lupin, they had uncovered countless secret routes. Through Hogsmeade alone they had discovered seven passages.
Except for places guarded by special magic—like the Room of Requirement—or areas too dangerous to chart such as the lake, the map recorded almost the entirety of Hogwarts: from the courtyards to the Forbidden Forest, from the Great Hall to the shifting staircases. It could hardly be more perfect.
As a piece of cartography, no one could surpass them. The strokes on the parchment were beautiful, smooth yet firm, outlining Hogwarts with artistic elegance while keeping the tangled pathways clear and practical.
"Tentacled monsters," Malfoy murmured with a faint sigh, once again admiring the creators from the bottom of his heart.
And then there was the function of displaying names.
The Ministry of Magic used the Trace to monitor underage wizards, and even that was a massive undertaking. The Marauders could not possibly have collected every wizard's name in the world to build their map.
The only explanation was that they had woven some form of tracking magic into every inch of the castle. The moment someone stepped inside, the magic detected their presence and marked their name upon the parchment.
Perhaps it could be called a kind of Tracking Charm.
Even so, it must have been an unimaginable project. Outside of pranks, they had likely poured endless time into perfecting this creation, ensuring not a single corner was overlooked.
"Locked up again?" Malfoy suddenly noticed that the two dots labeled Fred Weasley and George Weasley were not in their dormitory, but clustered inside Filch's office.
He shifted his gaze toward Ron's room. As expected, besides the hospitalized Harry and the other boys, a tiny dot lay on Ron's bed marked with the name:
Peter Pettigrew.
"Sleeping with an old man for years…" Malfoy shivered. "Disgusting when you think about it." For once, he felt genuine sympathy for a certain red-haired boy.
"Focus," he reminded himself sharply.
Peering into others' privacy was dangerously addictive. With a single glance at the map, he could know the whereabouts of anyone in the castle—whether they were heading to class, hiding in the library, or sneaking through a corridor at midnight. With a little deduction, he could predict their every move.
It created the illusion of absolute control.
One could imagine strolling up to someone with a mysterious smile and saying, "So, what were you doing with Judy outside the common room last night?"—then enjoying the shock and fear on their face, tasting satisfaction that did not truly belong to them.
In the wrong hands, this map would be a disaster.
After steadying his thoughts, Malfoy searched for his real target—Sirius Black.
"There you are."
He gave a faint smile at the ink dot moving swiftly across the parchment.
Black was clearly stuck at the password barrier again and had been forced to retreat. On the way back he moved more cautiously than before. The corridors were now filled with Aurors, pacing with wands raised, casting flickering charms as they checked every shadow.
Their names crowded the map like a swarm of insects.
Whenever Black seemed about to collide with them, he would slip into an unexpected passage, vanishing through narrow routes hidden in darkness.
Malfoy watched silently as the small dot darted left and right, until at last it left the edge of the map and reached Hogsmeade.
"You won't be so lucky next time."
His finger tapped lightly on the parchment as he whispered those words into the quiet night.