“Good afternoon, students!” Said Professor McGonogall, who was dressed like the evil sorceress from Sleeping Beauty. She was armed with a pistol.

“Good afternoon!” Replied the class around me. I noticed that they were all from Congdon Park Elementary, and they were all dressed like Snape. We were having class in my living room.

“As you all know, we have a very important test today. It is worth 90% of your whole grade. I hope you studied, Ms. Johnson.” She said.

“Of course I studied!” I lied. I would just have to cheat and BS my way through this test. It probably wouldn’t be a problem.

“Very well. Ms. Johnson, in order to pass Hogwarts, you must transfigure yourself into a Gryffindor by the end of the hour. Go.” 

All of a sudden, I realized that I didn’t have my wand. Mikaela kept on telling me that I could borrow hers, but she was floating on a broom on the other side of the windowpane. 

“Ms Johnson?” Asked a soft voice.

“Mm?” I replied without opening my eyes. I couldn’t face the shame at having flunked McGonogall’s test.

“Ms Johnson?” Asked the voice again. I felt something cold being put inside of my mouth all of a sudden. The coolness spread like a breath of wind all through my body, and I blinked back to life. I inhaled deeply.

“Pine.” I murmured quietly. I was tasting pine and looking up at a white ceiling and white curtains and a lady bending over me with a glass phial of blue liquid.

“Wideye potion, dear.” Said the Madam Pomfrey. She turned to a foggy figure next to her, whose face was blurry. “She’s coming to. She’ll be fine in no time.”

Everything cleared up. I found myself sitting in what looked like a hospital bed, covered in bandages, with a pounding headache. 

There were three figures instead of one.

“Oh, dear. I’m so sorry. I told them I needed new broomsticks, but they never listen to me.” It was Madame Hooch.

“It’s okay.” I said. It was most certainly not okay. I might even sue.

“How are you feeling?” asked a kind and concerned Mikaela, adopting her most grandmotherly voice.

“Fine.” I said. I was most certainly not feeling fine.

“Hey.” Said Tracey Davis blankly.

“Hey,” I replied. Tracey always knew exactly the right words to make someone feel better. Madam Pomfrey was disgruntled.

“A nasty accident, that was. Rolanda, I’m at the end of my rope. There’ve been more Quidditch injuries than I’ve ever seen at this castle, and now, the moment  they get off the ground--”

“Poppy, it’s the board of governors. If they’d invest just a little into new supplies---” Madam Hooch interrupted. 

“Well, until then, if I see one more ridiculous flying injury in my hospital wing, I swear, Rolanda, the things that happen to these students!”

“Oh, come on now, it’s not that bad. It’s not that bad, is it, Ms. Johnson?” Asked Hooch.

“Um,” I said, looking at Mikaela for help.

“Nonsense! Ms McParlan, Ms Davis, if you would escort Ms Johnson to the Great Hall for dinner slowly.” Madam Pomfrey nodded at the three of us. We scrambled out of there, desperate to avoid being roped into this argument. 

“I was really worried there, when you flipped upside-down.” Mikaela said as we walked down the staircases.

“I think I can safely say I was more worried.” I said. “My hands were slipping the whole time, and once I passed the tower, my legs cramped up, and I thought I was going to die...” I recounted the entire story gleefully with exuberant pantomiming. 

Just as we made it to the corridor outside of the Great Hall, we were startled by a loud voice behind us.

“Hey!” We turned around. Two Gryffindors, who I recognized as Fred and George Weasley (but who I couldn’t tell apart) had suddenly appeared behind us and were approaching rapidly. “You two!” called one of them.

“We’ve been looking to catch the two of you for ages.” Said the other twin. They were standing next to us now.

“Why?” I asked, bewildered. Mikaela looked just as surprised.

“To congratulate you, of course.” Said the first twin.

“Commend you, really.” Said the second.

“What for?” Mikaela asked.

“For whatever you did to torment our dear brother Percy so much that he locked himself in his dorm.” Said the first twin.

“We’re pretty sure you traumatized him for life.” Said the second, grinning.

“Oh. That was weeks ago. I completely forgot about that.” I said.

“He hasn’t.” said the first twin again. “Reckon you should stay out of his way till he does, though.”

“Are we in trouble?” I asked.

“Most likely. We’ve got to go flag down Potter, but keep it up, firsties!” said the second twin. They hurried ahead of us. A piece of paper flew out of the second twin’s pocket as he ran into the great hall. He didn’t seem to notice.

“Hey!” I called, but the twins had disappeared into the Great Hall. I picked up the paper and examined it. It was very old, and folded several times.

“Here, I’ll give it back to them when I get to the table.” offered Mikaela

“There’s nothing on it.” I said. “It’s just a blank piece of paper. It might be weird if you just went up to them and was like, ‘oh, here, you dropped your unused piece of paper.’”

“Why would it be weird?” asked Mikaela. “They could still be using it for something.”

“I’m mostly out of clean parchment. I could use it to draw on. I don’t think they’d mind.”It was a pretty piece of parchment as well. I looked forward to creating something pretty on it.

“It’s the second week of school! How are you out of parchment?”

“I just am, okay?” I pocketed the folded-up piece of paper and Mikaela rolled her eyes at me as we passed through the doors into the Great Hall. Dinner tonight was primarily steak-and-kidney pie, a British dish that I was not fond of. There were also dinner rolls and candied carrots. 

I ate in silence, listening to the loud laughter of Marcus Flint, who was going on about his new Quidditch lineup and how the Gryffindors didn’t even have a seeker. Then Draco began to boast about his own flying skills, retelling the story of his battle with Potter and adding a few details that hadn’t happened. Marcus and a few other upperclassmen smiled, clearly not convinced, but Pansy Parkinson was gazing at Draco  and giggling as he talked, her bubbleheaded smile saturated with so much unrequited love that she was practically drooling. 

Perhaps he wanted to impress Flint, perhaps he wanted to impress Pansy, but at that moment Draco and his bodyguards departed the table to go harass Potter.

“This parchment isn’t blank.” said a voice next to me. I turned in surprise to see Tracey Davis holding the folded-up parchment that had been in my pocket a moment before. Her voice was new to me. It was flat and surprisingly feminine.

“What?” was the sound that came out of me.

“It’s enchanted to appear blank. Look.” She slid the paper over to me, and I was surprised to see it now had writing on it:

“Messrs. Mooney, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs advise Ms. Tracey Davis to keep her slippery hands off of other people’s belongings.”

“Well, that’s not very nice.” I said.

“My mother works in the Department of Mysteries. I’ve seen her do Revealing Charms before. They’re not hard.” Tracey explained, her eyes not leaving the page.

“What does that mean?” I asked.

“This is more than just a blank paper. Most likely, there’s dark magic protecting it.” Tracey said firmly.

“Dark magic? If those Weasley twins had it, I don’t think it could be that dark.”I pictured Fred and George in a secret torture chamber. Tracey was silent again as the ink drained back into the vanilla paper. “What do you think it is, I wonder?”

Tracey took out a quill and wrote in hard boxy handwriting,

“Hello. I politely request access to whatever is in this parchment.” her writing was swallowed by the page and replaced by,

“Mr. Padfoot politely denies Ms. Davis and politely points out that she is a great slimy walrus.”

“I wanna try!” I exclaimed, taking the paper from Tracey. “What should I write?” I asked rhetorically. Tracey gazed at the paper with unbroken focus.

“Hello Mr. Padfoot! I like your mean paper. You are a smelly butt.” I giggled as I wrote.

The paper responded with,

“Mr. Prongs gives his condolences to Ms. Johnson regarding her botched coconut haircut.” 

“Dark magic!” I cried, my hand flying self-consciously to my hair. “I don’t see what use this thing could be. Let’s just give it back or throw it away.” I looked at Tracey, expecting her to argue or say something, but she just looked at me silently. Clutching the paper, I got up and made for the Gryffindor table, deciding Fred and George could have it after all.

“I’d take you on anytime on my own. Tonight if you want. Wizard’s Duel.” I heard Draco boasting to Potter. I spun around to watch this conversation. Draco fighting Potter? I would want to watch this. “Wands only. No contact.” He looked from Potter to Weasley and smirked. “What’s the matter? Never heard of a Wizard’s Duel?”

“Of course he has!” Jumped in Ron Weasley, unconvincingly. “I’m his second. Who’s yours?”

“Crabbe.” said Draco decisively. There wasn’t much of a decision to be made: Crabbe and Goyle were both equally stupid. “Midnight, all right? We’ll meet you in the trophy room. It’s always unlocked.”

At this, Draco and his gang left for the Slytherin table again. I was about to push past them on my way to the Weasleys, but changed my mind.

“You guys actually going to fight?” I asked, squeezing around Goyle to talk to Draco as they walked. 

“Of course. But I don’t see how it concerns you.” Draco said haughtily.

“Do you know any curses or hexes? Because the only thing I’ve seen you do so far is flipendo.” 

“Shut up, Johnson. Unlike your muggle parents, my father had the decency to teach me a few defensive spells before sending me off to school.” 

“Okay, then.” I said as I got back to my seat, but before sitting down, I called loudly, “Hey! Draco and Potter fight tonight at Midnight in the Trophy Room! It’s gonna be BIG. Anyone wanna come watch?” Slytherin looked up at me surprised, and quiet cheers and some laughter broke out. Draco turned white.

“Oh, I’m dying to see that!” laughed a fourth-year.

“Way to go, little Malfoy!” shouted a sixth-year boy.

“Shut up, you numbskull!” Draco hissed at me, sitting down, looking thoroughly embarrassed. More loudly he said, “I’m not going to fight Potter. That would be obviously idiotic.”

“Why’d you just say you would, then?” I asked. Draco rolled his eyes a little too noticeably.

“It’s obvious. If Potter gets caught sneaking around the castle, he’ll get expelled.”

This obviously non-fabricated devious plan was met with adoring laugher from Pansy and, subsequently, Millicent, who generally did everything Pansy did. The older kids I’d alerted rolled their eyes and smirked, though Draco barely noticed, as everyone in his own year was looking up to him like a god. 

I sat down next to Tracey, relishing in how much I amused myself, when she jabbed me in the arm with her wand.

“Ow! What?” I cried.

“Did you get rid of the parchment?” She asked, looking up at me seriously.

“No. I got distracted.” I said.

“I want it.” she said. “Just for now,” she added, “until I crack the defense systems. You can have it back after.” 

I took it out of my pocket and handed it to her, confused.

“Why?” I asked finally. Tracey didn’t answer. “Are you some kind of puzzle guru?”

“Sort of.” She said, examining the parchment once more before putting it away.

“I’m more of a riddle type of person. Math isn’t my friend.” I said, launching into a lecture about my past struggles with algebra. As per usual, Tracey didn’t seem interested, but listened silently.

I woke up in the middle of the night to Draco, Crabbe, and Goyle laughing with some sixth-years in the common room about how they had tipped off Filch about Potter being in the trophy room. I turned my eyes toward the bed just left of me, which had it’s green curtains pulled all the way around, but which was emitting a great deal of light nonetheless. I heard soft mutterings coming from inside, and every now and then the light would color or intensify slightly. I let my feet fall to the cold stone floor as I crept toward the bed and slid the curtain slightly.

Tracey was laying with the parchment folded out all the way, with quills spread out and her wand in hand. A green battery-powered flashlight, which looked out-of-place in Hogwarts, sat on her pillow illuminating her work.

“Mr. Prongs compliments the rudimentary spell Ms. Davis has performed, but entrusts his secrets to the performers of a spell with four letters.”

“Damn it.” grumbled Tracey.

“Messrs. Mooney, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs appreciate the sentiment, but Ms. Davis has once again totally missed the mark.”

“What are you doing?” I whispered. Tracey didn’t look up.

“Go away.” she whispered at me. “Progress.” she added.

“You should go to sleep at some point.” I said, though it was pointless.

I thought vaguely of Mikaela and how she was probably fast asleep in bed right now. I found out later that no, actually, she was running around the castle after Neville and Potter, but at the moment I compared my situation to hers and found myself with the shorter stick. Sleepy but unable to sleep, I ambled into the common room with a book I had checked out from the library called 66 Tales of Gloom and Horror from Around the Magical World.

At that age, I had only had probably two nights in my entire life where I couldn’t sleep. I would have many more, but this was only the third time in my entire life that I hadn’t been able to force sleep upon myself. In later years, I discovered that the best remedy for insomnia is to pull out a bit of late transfiguration or potions homework and try to focus on it until my mind shut off out of unwillingness and boredom. It was a clever trick I would discover in around third year, and later wonder what that implied about my personality.

However, that night, I foolishly tried to read something entertaining. I sat on the black leather window cushion, hugging several green pillows, with a little white candle lighting the words. 

Apparently my quiet reading rained on Draco’s parade, and after five minutes he disappeared. The upperclassmen he had been so desperate to impress dropped sleepily on the sofas, and didn’t awake for another twenty minutes. When they finally awoke and left the common room, they “noxed” the lights off, evidently forgetting or not noticing that I was still in there.

I’m scared of the dark. I have always been scared of the dark. Not of the dark as much as of what I imagined moving inside of it: enormous black six-armed faceless demons, white-faced, hollow-eyed vengeful wraiths, pallid grey clammy dead things hidden in closets until the light goes off, murderous eyeless chainsaw-wielding maniacs, and plenty of other ridiculous and repulsive images that apparently lived together in the deep reaches of my brain all the time. 

Anyways, my heart started beating faster, and I scrambled to get off that cushion and back into bed before a cold skeletal hand could grab my ankle. In my panic, I knocked over the last light I had, which was the candle, and it went out in a splash of wax and a wisp of smoke on the floor. I squealed and yanked my feet back onto the cushion, and bravely rolled up into a ball.

As my eyes adjusted, I saw that there was still light coming from the above moon and stars through the water, and somewhere else, too, far off in the distance. I strained to trace the source of the strange green-gold light, but it was too far through the murky water.

Lilly jumped onto the cushion, which startled me.

“Mmmmm?” she purred, rubbing up to the glass.

“Mmph.” I grunted in reply. Lilly had been quite invisible up till now, refusing to come out from under my bed except at night, when she ran around the common room like a maniac, mewing and chattering and eliciting a good deal of complaints from lighter sleepers, as well as the three other Slytherin cats, none of whom were willing to put up with her constant harassment. 

We sat and watched three unusually large and strange-looking crabs as they duked it out on the sand over a dead fish. They were glittery and black, and I supposed I would have been able to find them in Fantastic Beasts if I had brought it. 

Lilly watched the lake out the window transfixed, and I slowly dozed off.

When I woke up, there was a mermaid outside my window.

I gasped in surprise, wonder, and disbelief, as it registered in slow increments that I was looking at an actual mermaid. 

She-- though I couldn’t really be certain that it was a she-- was dark olive green like seaweed, with feet of flowing maroon-brown hair that shimmered in the broken starlight under the waves. Her eyes were large and coppery, rust-colored and iridescent as cats eyes. Her face was more fishlike, more froglike, than human, and she possessed kelp-yellow fins that rippled down her back and arms and frayed out at the end of her long green tail.

She was smiling, a slender green webbed finger pressed against the glass just over my cat. Lilly jumped to bat at it and fell down onto the leather, her tail swishing playfully this way and that. The mermaid slid her finger down the glass, and Lilly chased it. 

“Whoa.” I said.

There was something beautiful about the mermaid, even though she looked nothing like any mermaid I had ever seen in movies or in books. 

I sat up slowly, remembering something from Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them about merpeople being violent and distrustful of land people. The last thing I wanted was to scare her away.

Mikaela met a three-headed dog that night, but my thing was cooler.

I watched her tease my cat for minutes, awe-struck, until Lilly made a wild jump and landed unexpectedly on my chest. I jerked. The mermaid looked at me in surprise. I don’t know if she hadn’t seen me, or if she had just thought I was asleep. Her deep copper eyes surveyed me with an unreadable expression. I stared back at her, wide-eyed, clutching my cat. I slowly put Lilly back down, not taking my eyes from the mermaid. 

She swam a little closer to me curiously. Lilly climbed onto my knees and fell lazily and haphazardly into my lap, where she spread out happily, purring, placing her paws on the glass where the mermaid was.

This was a moment I knew I would not forget. Nothing about it felt real, but I knew that it could not be a dream. I was too stunned to be dreaming.

The mermaid made a sudden swish of her long tail and disappeared upward, past the window, out of sight. I watched her shadowy form swim just under the surface away from me, until it disappeared into the murkiness toward the mysterious light. 

“I suppose you like her more than me,” I accused my cat. She purred and blinked in response.

Not knowing what else to do, I groped my way through the dark common room back to my bed. Tracey’s lights had not gone out, but everything was silent. I crept quietly under the green silk blankets, my head spinning, and tried in more futility than ever to fall asleep. 

Breakfast the next morning was a spinach omelette, and bagels with lox. If you have never tasted lox, I envy you.

After breakfast, I met up with an equally sleepy Mikaela, who, after half an hour of disgruntled silence equal to, if not greater than my own, regaled me with the fantastic story of the three-headed dog and how she and all the Gryffindors almost got expelled or killed.

“But I still can’t figure out why anyone would want to keep that thing around.” she said. 

“Maybe they’re breeding puppies here.” I thought.

“Hermione said it was standing on a trapdoor.”

“Was there, like, a secret lever that you could pull to make it fall comically into a hole?” 

“No. I think.... nevermind.” Mikaela said.

“What?” I asked. “What?” I asked again. “What?” I asked again.

“Nevermind!” Said Mikaela.

“Tell me.” I pried. “What?”

“Just-- I’m probably wrong anyways.” This was killing me.

“I’ll tell you two secrets if you tell me this one.” I said.

“It’s not a secret. I think maybe the dog was guarding something.” Mikaela said finally.

“Oh. Like, guarding an expensive treasure, or guarding a dangerous criminal?” I wondered. Mikaela’s head slumped down into her arms on the table. Evidently she had gotten as much sleep as me. “Or guarding.... a secret sausage grinder?!?” 

Her groan was muffled by the table. I had been making the sausage grinder joke the entire time we’d been here. I was not going to stop.

“Well, here are my two things. First, that piece of paper I picked up is enchanted by dark magic.”

Mikaela lifted her head, frowning.

“What?” she asked.

“Yep. Tracey Davis spent the whole night trying to figure it out.”

“Why would the Weasleys have dark magic?” Mikaela asked, still looking unhappy. “What does it do?”

“That’s what we’re trying to figure out.” I said. “It insults whoever tries to get into it.”

“Oh. That’s not so bad.”

“The second thing is that I met a mermaid.”

“What?” Mikaela looked disbelieving.

“Last night--she was friends with my cat. She was green.”

“Are you sure you weren’t dreaming?” Mikaela rubbed her temples.

“It wasn’t!” I said. “It wasn’t a dream! She was right outside the window! She was playing with my cat.”

“Was anyone else there?” She asked grumpily.

“No.” I said, defensively.

“It was a dream.” She said, putting her head back onto the table.

“It was not! I am right!” I yelled. “I am right about this. I am.” I said. “Right.” I added. Mikaela huffed and turned away.

I stormed off and went to sit by Tracey Davis. She had been awake longer than either Mikaela or I, but she looked surprisingly normal.

“I saw a mermaid last night. Mikaela doesn’t believe me.” I said. Tracey nodded. We sat silently as I finished my Defense Against the Dark Arts essay.

Mikaela had cheered up by third hour, which was Potions. I didn’t bring up the mermaid again. I suspected that she was just being grouchy at breakfast, as was I, but I  also pondered whether she would accept my story upon revisitation or if she would refuse to back down even though she knew I was right, which is what I would do if I were her. I always stick by my wrong decisions. So I didn’t mention my mermaid again that day.

Every night after that, I awoke at around 3:00 to go look out the window in search of the mermaid, but she didn’t show.

One morning, during the usual pandaemonium of feathers and dropping letters, Harry Potter received a mysterious package that Draco later revealed was a broomstick. I was jealous. Not that I really wanted a broomstick after my head trauma. Flying practice was horrendous when we had it, just because it gave me so many new opportunities to get creative with embarrassing myself. I was mostly jealous because my parents only ever sent me infrequent letters and sometimes candy.

“It’s not fair. If anyone else’d gotten caught, they would’ve been expelled, not given a broom.” Malfoy complained. “Oh, Potter thinks he’s so special.”

I rolled my eyes and concentrated hard on my dumb Transfiguration essay. Transfiguration had definitely been one-upping History of Magic, hatewise, as of late. 

“Describe the importance that differences in categories of Matter hold. Why is it crucial to understand this?” was the prompt.

I didn’t understand this. I was having enough trouble with the sentence, let alone the concept. I was on my third paragraph, writing:

“It is difficult to transfigure something squishy into something sharp. This is an example of why it is crucial. Also, it is difficult to transfigure something squishy into something that is on fire. The reason this is crucial is because in a real situation, you should not transfigure something into something that is on fire.”

“You’re not going to turn that in, are you?” Said a voice behind me. 

“Well, what else am I supposed to do?” I asked Mikaela irritably, who was standing with her own essay rolled up in her hand.

“Read the book. Take notes. Pay attention.” She listed.

“Meh.” I said.

“So what’s going on?” she asked, glancing uncomfortably at the rest of the Slytherin table, which, to her credit, was predominantly glaring at her with suspicion.

“What?” I asked. 

“Someone just sent me an owl telling me to come over here.” She said.

“Well, it wasn’t me.” I said through a mouthful of bagel.

“I thought it was kind of weird to send an owl since we usually meet after breakfast anyways.” She said. “Also, it was postmarked yesterday.”

“Weird.” I said.

“I have something for you.” Said Tracey Davis’ familiar flat voice. She had practically materialized out of nowhere and was standing right next to Mikaela. Her dark eyes were moving between the two of us in urgent seriousness.

“Oh. Really?” Mikaela said awkwardly after some silence. Tracey Davis pulled out the parchment from weeks ago. It was covered in ink now.

“I cracked it. It was probably the most difficult piece of magic I’ve ever seen.” She handed the paper to Mikaela, I noticed, instead of me. This was, I knew, because I give off a ditzy vibe and people automatically don’t trust me with things.

“Oh.” Mikaela said, uncertainly, as she unfolded the parchment.

“I wouldn’t do that here.” said Tracey.

“Why not?” I asked, getting excited.

“You’ll see.” She said. She didn’t speak again. 

Mikaela and I, both extremely curious to see what it was that made this piece of paper so secret, immediately took off for the door, shoving people aside that were standing haphazardly in our path.

We ducked behind the door, which was propped open by a piece of wood. Mikaela unfolded the paper rapidly and I kept bumping her arm to try and get her to let me hold it. 

The words, scrawled in beautifully grandiose handwriting, read:

“Messrs. Mooney, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs are pleased to present you with the MARAUDER’S MAP.”

“It’s a map?” I groaned disappointedly.

“Look!” Mikaela hissed in excitement. 

The painstakingly ink-drawn castle of Hogwarts was alive with little moving ribbons. ARGUS FILCH was slowly floating around the fourth floor, followed closely by MRS. NORRIS. SEVERUS SNAPE and QUIRNIUS QUIRELL were moving around on the staircases. Nearly everyone else was in the Great Hall, except for MIKAELA McPARLAN and MADELINE JOHNSON, who were tucked right outside the door.

It became immediately clear that what we were holding was a sort of holy artifact, an object of such immense value and infinite possibility that it had transcended Objecthood and moved into the realm of Godhood. ALBUS DUMBLEDORE was unmoving in his room, evidently asleep. Neither one of us exhaled, so taken in by the startling power and sheer amazingness that we now held in our hands.

“We can spy on everyone.” I whispered finally. “Think of all the stuff we could do.”

“Look.” Mikaela let out a low whisper, pointing with her wand.

On the map, there were little secret passages marked all over the school. They led within the school and outside of it, passages that disappeared in the milky vanilla margins of the wrinkled paper. “Where do you think that one goes?” she asked, pointing to one that was marked as being right underneath a rug just one turn down the hall from where we were standing. We exchanged a glance and went to investigate. As we approached the rug, the ink on the map was swallowed into it and replaced by a little moving diagram of a wizard with enormous spectacles uncovering the spot that the rug went over and jumping on the stones in a certain sequence. When he leapt aside, the stones shifted to reveal a sort of manhole that the bespectacled wizard climbed down.

“Well? Are we going to do it?” Mikaela said quietly.

“I don’t know. It’s almost time for class.” I said, getting cold feet suddenly and searching for excuses. “We don’t want someone to find us. Let’s do it later, during the middle of dinner, or early tomorrow on Saturday when people will be sleeping in.”

“Good plan.” Mikaela said. I got the feeling that my feet were not alone in being cold.

“Here, give it to me and I’ll hang onto it until then.” I offered.

“Wait, I want to look at it too. You’ve already had it.” Mikaela said.

“Yeah, but I didn’t know it was magic then. Seriously, if the Weasleys see you with their secret map, they’ll be mad.”

“And what about you? You’re in class with Malfoy and all the others all day, how is that any safer? What do you think Malfoy’d do if he saw that thing?”

“He’s not going to see it! I’ll keep it hidden in my book.”

“Well, you’ll have to promise not to look. Can you do that? Can you not look at the map during class?” Mikaela asked, throwing a fantastic dilemma into the works.

“Yes.” I said, lying to myself. “Can you?”

“Yes.” She said. 

“Rock-paper-scissors.” I suggested. This was the best way to solve all problems.

“Fine.” Said Mikaela, shoving the map under her arm so she could roll up her sleeve and form a fist.

“Wait! We should change the names to make it more magical. It seems more respectful, somehow.”

“What.” Mikaela said, but agreed.

“Mermaid, Goblin, Werewolf.” I said. “This-” I said, wiggling my arm like a snake, “is the mermaid. This-” I cupped my hand around my nose, “is the goblin. And This-” I made my hands into claws, “is the werewolf. Mermaid drowns Goblin, Werewolf bites Mermaid, Goblin.... I dunno, swindles the Werewolf out of a lot of money.”

“Okay, then.” Mikaela agreed. “One, two, three!”

“Wait! Instead of goblin, let’s do Wizard. The nose thing still works.”

“Okay, the bell’s about to ring, let’s not get too picky. One, two, three!”

We had both done Werewolf, as it was by far the easiest. 

“One, two, three!” 

Werewolf again. We laughed and tried again.

“One, two, three!”

I wiggled my arm like a Mermaid and Mikaela cupped her hand over her nose.

“Ha HA!” I said, making my arm swim through the air and jab Mikaela’s nose several times annoyingly. “I win!” I shouted. Mikaela sighed and handed me the map. I jumped up and down in glee.

“You can’t look at it. Okay?” she said very seriously.

“I get it. It’s a Pandora’s box.” I said dismissively as the bell rang. 

“Don’t look at it,” she warned, walking backwards through the flow of students to get to her class. 

“I know.” I called back.

As I hurried off to Defense Against the Dark Arts, I planned out how I would be able to find chances to peek at the map. As long as no one saw me, I would be fine. I might need to ask to be excused to use the bathroom, or to get a drink.

“Hey!” called an unwelcome voice just behind me in the busy corridor. Instinctively, I shoved the map down my shirt. “You, Johnson!” the voice demanded as I turned around briskly. It was, of course, Percy Weasley, my favorite Gryffindor with a disproportionate head. “Stop right there, Johnson!” He said unnecessarily, as I had already stopped. Annoying. 

“What?” I asked meekly as Percy stormed over.

“You are not to run in the hall, Miss Johnson.” He recited loudly.

“I wasn’t running.” I said without thinking. “I was bounding.” I looked at Percy expectantly.

“What I saw was running. And I don’t like your attitude, Miss Johnson.” He kept emphasizing Miss Johnson, eager to show that he had learned my name.

“Okay.” I said cooly. 

“I’ll see about docking five points from your house, how’s that?” Said Percy smugly as he took out his little black notebook and wrote down my name in it. “Just because you evaded punishment once doesn’t mean that you’re exempt from the rules.”

“Okay,” I said again, rolling my eyes and huffing. I crossed my arms tightly around my chest to keep the map from slipping out of my shirt. There was no doubt that Percy would recognize it if he saw; as the twins’s brother, he’d have seen it before.

“Any more of that attitude, and I’ll see about detention!” Percy said, his chin tipped up in an obvious attempt to seem taller. He glanced around, apparently making sure that people were watching him put me in my place.

“Okay.” I said finally, turning around to leave.

“Get off to class, now!” Percy said behind me like I wasn’t already doing just that. Once I was a good twenty feet away, I started “bounding” again, because I was now late, and Percy was an ass.

“Hey! What did I just tell you, Johnson! I’ll have to give you a detention!” Percy shouted at me. 

“Oy, Weasley!” Called the smooth and snappish voice of Gemma Farley, who strode across the hall expertly with Corian Greengrass and Richard Higgs, all of whom were prefects. People moved out of their way automatically, and more stopped what they were doing to watch what was going on. “I’ll thank you to stop harassing that first-year.” She said, smiling and cocking her head. Percy had shrunk a little standing in the tall shadows of Corian and Richard, and was beginning to look flustered.

“This is none of your concern, Farley. Actually, I should think that the three of you would be more concerned about the misbehavior of students in your house.” Percy said, trying to retain command of the situation.

“I should think you’d be above taking out your insecure angst on eleven-year-olds.” Gemma smirked. “Usually I would tell you to pick on someone your own size, but...” She raised her hand and moved it between the top of Percy’s head and my own, and admittedly there was little height difference. Gemma shrugged as Corian and Richard stifled laughter. There were giggles from the people watching.

“That was quite uncalled for! If you’re not going to take responsibility for your house’s behavior, I shall have to go to a Professor!” Percy was red now.

“Were you actually doing anything wrong, Madeline?” Gemma asked without taking her smug gaze from Percy.

“No.” I said.

“Yes. Running in the corridor is--”

“Running in the corridor? That’s what you’re trying to get her for? I don’t suppose anything is beneath you, Weasley.” Said Richard.

“I wasn’t running, I was bounding.” I argued, feeling silly.

“She was bounding.” Said Gemma with finality. Percy looked up at Gemma and the two boys, and looked around at the faces turned in our direction. His face went redder with anger and he easily resembled a really pissed pigeon. Percy huffed and puffed and turned around brusquely to storm off, glancing one more in our direction and shouting,

“Just you wait!” before disappearing. The people watching dissipated toward their respective classes.

“What an ass.” Said Gemma, smirking, her arms crossed.

“Thank you for saving me.” I said.

“It was a pleasure.” She smiled down at me. “If Weasley tries to give you any more flak, just call on one of us.” She motioned toward Higgs and Greengrass.

“Okay,” I said uncertainly, smiling back half-heartedly. If Weasley gave me any more flak, I think I’d prefer to just take it so that it didn’t get any worse. I did not want to get in trouble, but I’d rather it be some house points now than poison in my pumpkin juice later. 

I dashed off to the moving staircases. I only had a few minutes to get to my next class. I’d already been marked tardy twice.

“Ooh. What is that?” Asked Pansy, who had been giggling and writing notes to Daphne Greengrass just a moment before. My shoulders clenched.

“Nothing. A drawing.” I said without looking at her. I slid the corner of the map back under my ‘notes’.

“Show it to us! Your drawings are always so cute.”

“It’s not done yet.” I said, forcing a smile. Cute. Bah.

“Yeah, remember that one of the mermaid?” Chimed in Daphne. “You’re such a good artist.”

“Thank you.” I said begrudgingly. There were actually about six drawings of the mermaid, and all of them were currently taped to my window, in case the mermaid swam by again. I didn’t like them, the popular girls. Especially when they interfered with my endeavors. I had to look at the map, but it was proving impossible. I needed a plan. An ingenious plan.

“Professor Quirrell, can I go to the bathroom?” I asked.

Foolproof.

I chuckled to myself, feeling badass, as I jogged down the hallway. To assuage the guilt I felt at having beguiled my hapless teacher I made my way toward the bathroom, because then I wouldn’t actually be lying.

The moment I was alone in the bathroom, I whipped the map out of my pocket and slumped down next to a radiator.

“Okay, Mr. Mooney, any secret passages around here?” I whispered. 

Instantly, the map colored itself in with a picture of a gargoyle I recognized. A little doodle of a wizard came by, tapped on a brick a few times, and climbed into a little hole that appeared there. I almost squealed, but didn’t, in case someone happened to walk by. The statue was just down the hallway!

Did I have the courage to do this on my own?

I kept to the wall, like a ninja, as I slid stealthily down the empty hallway. There was no one there, and I wasn’t really concealed in any way. I stepped very carefully, making sure to behave as much like a ninja as possible. 

“Good afternoon, young miss!” Said Nearly Headless Nick, who was passing by. I shushed him and kept creeping. There could be no witnesses. No witnesses except Nick.

The gargoyle stood decoratively ornamented with the phrase “davies eats dung boms”, which was lovingly misspelled in orange ink on the statue’s stone wings.

I tapped the brick, and jumped backward in preparation.

The bricks moved aside, and a hole just big enough to crawl through opened up. 

I wasn’t really going to go in there by myself. It was dark and small in there, and I didn’t know what was on the other side. And Mikaela would be pissed at me. And, Quirrell was expecting me to come back. He’d lose all trust in me, and if there’s one thing I needed it was the approval of teachers. 

So, I folded up the map, and stood up from where I was crouched behind the statue.

Mrs. Norris was standing right in the middle of the hallway. She stared right at me.

“Mmmmmrraw?” She asked curtly. 

She knew. Oh god, she knew!

“Go away!” I whispered. “Go away, kitty!”

She didn’t go away. Instead, she started coming closer.

“Mmmmmmraw!” She accused.

“What’s that, my sweet?” Asked a growly voice around the corner.

Oh, no. 

Thinking fast, I jumped the hell down that hole. I landed in a dark, mausoleum-looking tunnel, with a low ceiling and little light. I started running. 

I was going to get expelled. They were going to send me back to America with my wand snapped in two, and I probably wouldn’t even be able to fix it with duct tape, even if I used a lot of it. I’d have to go to public school! 

I ran till I hit a wall, which jumped out of nowhere. I turned a corner and kept going. A little light was visible at the end of the tunnel. Yes! Freedom! I clambered up a little ladder leading to what looked sort of like a manhole, with a square grate in the middle. I pushed on the manhole till it lifted, and climbed out of the tunnel.

I had somehow wound up in a shower stall, which looked like it hadn’t been used in ages. I pushed the manhole back into its place, and it integrated into the gold stone-tile floor seamlessly, like it had never been there in the first place. I had a terrible feeling that I was somewhere I wasn’t supposed to be. I slid the red curtain aside and stepped out into a larger bathroom. I was right: lining the walls was urinal after urinal. This was the boys room. I was trespassing in the underworld. 

I considered trying to sneak back down the manhole. Which was worse, getting caught by Filch or getting caught coming out of the boys room? The weights were almost evenly stacked. 

“What are you doing in here?” Asked a shocked voice. I shrieked and spun around. Neville Longbottom was standing in the doorway, looking incredulous.

“Neville! I didn’t mean-- I thought this was the girls room! This place is like a maze, you know?” I laughed awkwardly. This was mortifying. “You won’t tell anyone, right?” 

Neville looked too startled for words. I flashed him a non-threatening grin.

“I guess, but... this... this is the Gryffindor bathroom!” He finally shouted.

I glanced around the bathroom, noticing the red curtains and towels and the gold tiles, as well as the lion crest on all the faucets.

“Oh.” I said. “Well, bye.” I brushed passed Neville, who still hadn’t moved. 

I was in way too deep now. Outside the bathroom door was the boys’ dormitories, where rows of four-poster beds sat flanked by windows. All the comforters were dark red, and though they looked rather fluffy, I felt like the Slytherin ones were probably softer and silkier to the touch. I didn’t pause to check. I darted down the staircase and into the common room, where loads of red armchairs sat scattered about on an ornamental rug. Some of them had books or strange little toys on them, apparently left there under the assumption that they would still be there when their owners returned. 

No one was in there. Everyone was at class, except apparently Neville. This was lucky, because I had to run around for a good few minutes before I finally found the door. 

After following the the Marauder’s Map, I found my way back to Quirrell’s classroom, though it was a full half-hour later, and class was over. I found Quirrell sitting in his chair, holding his head and muttering to himself.

“No, no, no, no, no, no!” He was whispering.

“Professor?” I asked. 

“Oh! Dear me!” he cried. He jumped from his chair. “Miss Johnson? Wh-wherever have you b-b-been?” 

“I just got lost, on accident.” I said. It was technically true. 

“W-well, then, I won’t mark you off, as long as it doesn’t h-happen again.”

I thanked him and left. I didn’t get what Mikaela had against him; he seemed perfectly nice to me.