***
"SO YOU ASKED PROFESSOR Lupin to teach you how to fight dementors?" Grace asked Harry as they were coming back from their quidditch practice, wet and covered in mud.
"Yes." He nodded. "I figured I should be able to fight them next time if they attack me. We don't want another incident like last time, do we?"
"When will he start teaching then?"
"Next term." He answered. "He's a little ill now."
"You know what, I think I'm going to ask Professor Lupin if he can teach me too." said Grace suddenly. "If I see dementors coming for you in the next match, then I'll be able to keep them at bay."
"Sure, yeah." Harry agreed. "I think you should ask."
In the next defence against the dark arts class, Grace stayed back to talk to Professor Lupin.
"You have any questions, Grace?" Professor Lupin asked seeing Grace in front of his deck.
"Actually I wanted to ask you something." She said.
"Go on."
"I was wondering whether you could teach me too how to fight dementors." said Grace. "I heard you're going to teach Harry."
"Oh." Professor Lupin was frowning. "Well, if you want to, then yeah, I can teach you too."
"Really?" Grace said surprised.
"Yes." He nodded. "But in the next term."
What with the promise of anti-Dementor lessons from Lupin, Grace's mood took a definite upturn. Gryffindor were not out of the running after all, although they could not afford to lose another match. Wood became repossessed of his manic energy, and worked his team as hard as ever in the chilly haze of rain that persisted into December. Grace saw no hint of a Dementor within the grounds. Dumbledore's anger seemed to be keeping them at their stations at the entrances.
Two weeks before the end of the term, the sky lightened suddenly to a dazzling, opaline white and the muddy grounds were revealed one morning covered in glittering frost. Inside the castle, there was a buzz of Christmas in the air. Professor Flitwick, the Charms teacher, had already decorated his classroom with shimmering lights that turned out to be real, fluttering fairies. The students were all happily discussing their plans for the holidays. Grace, Ron and Hermione had decided to remain at Hogwarts, mainly to keep Harry company.
To everyone's delight except Harry's and Grace's, there was to be another Hogsmeade trip on the very last weekend of the term.
"We can do all our Christmas shopping there!" said Hermione. "Mum and Dad would really love those Toothflossing Stringmints from Honeydukes!"
Resigned to the fact that Grace and Harry would be the only third years staying behind again, Harry borrowed a copy of Which Broomstick from Wood, and they decided to spend the day reading up on the different makes.
On the Saturday morning of the Hogsmeade trip, Grace and Harry bid good-bye to Ron and Hermione, who were wrapped in cloaks and scarves, then turned up the marble staircase alone, and headed back toward Gryffindor Tower. Snow had started to fall outside the windows, and the castle was very still and quiet.
"Psst — Grace! Harry!"
They turned, halfway along the third-floor corridor, to see Fred and George peering out at them from behind a statue of a humpbacked, one-eyed witch.
"What are you two doing?" Grace asked her brothers curiously.
"How come you're not going to Hogsmeade?" Harry asked.
"We've come to give you two a bit of festive cheer before we go," said Fred, with a mysterious wink. "Come in here..."
He nodded toward an empty classroom to the left of the one-eyed statue. Grace and Harry followed Fred and George inside. George closed the door quietly and then turned, beaming, to look at both of them.
"Okay, spit it out." Grace said crossing her arms as she stared at Fred and George.
"We've got an early Christmas present for both of you," he said.
Fred pulled something from inside his cloak with a flourish and laid it on one of the desks. It was a large, square, very worn piece of parchment with nothing written on it. Grace, suspecting one of Fred and George's jokes, stared at it.
"What's that supposed to be?" Harry asked.
"This, Harry, is the secret of our success," said George, patting the parchment fondly.
"It's a wrench, giving it to you," said Fred, "but we decided last night, you both need's greater than ours."
"Anyway, we know it by heart," said George. "We bequeath it to you. We don't really need it anymore."
"And what do we need with a bit of old parchment?" said Grace with her eyes narrowed.
"A bit of old parchment!" said Fred, closing his eyes with a grimace as though Grace had mortally offended him. "Explain, George."
"Well... when we were in our first year, Grace — young, carefree, and innocent —"
Grace choked on air and Harry snorted. Fred and George had never been innocent.
" — well, more innocent than we are now — we got into a spot of bother with Filch."
"We let off a Dungbomb in the corridor and it upset him for some reason —"
"So he hauled us off to his office and started threatening us with the usual —"
"— detention —"
"— disembowelment —"
"— and we couldn't help noticing a drawer in one of his filing cabinets marked Confiscated and Highly Dangerous."
"Don't tell me —" said Harry, starting to grin.
"Well, what would you've done?" said Fred. "George caused a diversion by dropping another Dungbomb, I whipped the drawer open, and grabbed — this."
"It's not as bad as it sounds, you know," said George. "We don't reckon Filch ever found out how to work it. He probably suspected what it was, though, or he wouldn't have confiscated it."
"And you know how to work it?" asked Grace.
"Oh yes," said Fred, smirking. "This little beauty's taught us more than all the teachers in this school."
"You're winding us up," said Harry, looking at the ragged old bit of parchment.
"Oh, are we?" said George.
He took out his wand, touched the parchment lightly, and said, "I solemnly swear that I am up to no good."
And at once, thin ink lines began to spread like a spider's web from the point that George's wand had touched. They joined each other, they crisscrossed, they fanned into every corner of the parchment; then words began to blossom across the top, great, curly green words, that proclaimed:
Messrs. Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs
Purveyors of Aids to Magical Mischief-Makers are proud to present
THE MARAUDER'S MAP
It was a map showing every detail of the Hogwarts castle and grounds. But the truly remarkable thing were the tiny ink dots moving around it, each labeled with a name in minuscule writing. Astounded, Grace bent over it. A labeled dot in the top left corner showed that Professor Dumbledore was pacing his study; the caretaker's cat, Mrs. Norris, was prowling the second floor; and Peeves the Poltergeist was currently bouncing around the trophy room. And as Grace's eyes traveled up and down the familiar corridors, she noticed something else.
This map showed a set of passages she had never entered. And many of them seemed to lead —
"Right into Hogsmeade," said Fred, tracing one of them with his finger. "There are seven in all. Now, Filch knows about these four" — he pointed them out — "but we're sure we're the only ones who know about these. Don't bother with the one behind the mirror on the fourth floor. We used it until last winter, but it's caved in — completely blocked. And we don't reckon anyone's ever used this one, because the Whomping Willow's planted right over the entrance. But this one here, this one leads right into the cellar of Honeydukes. We've used it loads of times. And as you might've noticed, the entrance is right outside this room, through that one-eyed old crone's hump."
"Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs," sighed George, patting the heading of the map. "We owe them so much."
"Noble men, working tirelessly to help a new generation of lawbreakers," said Fred solemnly.
"I can't believe this." Grace said throwing an accusatory eye on both her brothers. "You both had this map all the time, and you never thought to tell me about it!"
"Well, we didn't want to corrupt you." said George with a shrug.
"Honestly I'm pissed that you both didn't tell me." said Grace shaking her head. "I'm your sister." She turned toward Harry. "But Harry we can go into Hogsmeade now!"
"Right," said George briskly. "Don't forget to wipe it after you've used it —"
"— or anyone can read it," Fred said warningly.
"Just tap it again and say, 'Mischief managed!' And it'll go blank."
"So, young Grace and Harry ," said Fred, in an uncanny impersonation of Percy, "mind you behave yourself."
"See you both in Honeydukes," said George, winking.
They left the room, both smirking in a satisfied sort of way.
"Come on Harry," Grace said grinning. "Let's go to Hogsmeade."
"But," Harry said doubt surfacing on his mind. "Are you sure we should do this?"
"Are you kidding me?" Grace exclaimed. "This is our only way out of the castle. And Fred and George have been using it for years, so surely it isn't dangerous. And about Black, I'm sure he isn't a fool to attack you right between so many people."
"Alright." said Harry a grin forming on his face. "Let's go then."
He rolled up the map, stuffed it inside his robes, and they both hurried to the door of the classroom. Grace opened it a couple of inches. There was no one outside. Very carefully, they edged out of the room and behind the statue of the one-eyed witch.
Harry pulled out the map again and saw that two new ink figure had appeared upon it, labeled 'Harry Potter' and 'Grace Weasley'. This figure was standing exactly where the real Grace and Harry were standing, about halfway down the third-floor corridor. They both watched carefully. The little Ink self appeared to be tapping the witch with the minute wand. Grace quickly took out her real wand and tapped the statue. Nothing happened. She looked back at the map. The tiniest speech bubble had appeared next to her figure. The word inside said, 'Dissendium.'
"Dissendium!" Grace whispered, tapping the stone witch again.
At once, the statue's hump opened wide enough to admit a fairly thin person.
"Woah." said Grace.
"Let's go." said Harry and then tucked the map away again, hoisted himself into the hole headfirst, and pushed himself forward.
Grace followed after him.
She slid a considerable way down what felt like a stone slide, then landed on cold, damp earth. She stood up, looking around. It was pitch dark. She held up her wand, muttered, "Lumos!" and saw that she was in a very narrow, low, earthy passageway.
"Wipe out the map." Grace said to Harry.
He raised the map, tapped it with the tip of his wand, and muttered, "Mischief managed!" The map went blank at once. He folded it carefully, tucked it inside his robes, then they set off.
The passage twisted and turned, more like the burrow of a giant rabbit than anything else. They hurried along it, stumbling now and then on the uneven floor, holding their wand out in front of them.
After what felt like an hour, the passage began to rise. Panting, Grace and Harry sped up.
Ten minutes later, they came to the foot of some worn stone steps, which rose out of sight above him. Careful not to make any noise, Grace began to climb after Harry. A hundred steps, two hundred steps, she lost count as he climbed, watching her feet... then, without warning, Harry suddenly stopped.
"Ow!" Harry said rubbing his head.
"What happened?" Grace asked.
"It's trapdoor above." Harry whispered.
Very slowly, he pushed the trapdoor open and peered over the edge. Harry and Grace climbed out of the trapdoor and replaced it — it blended so perfectly with the dusty floor that it was impossible to tell it was there. They crept slowly toward the wooden staircase that led upstairs. Now she could definitely hear voices, not to mention the tinkle of a bell and the opening and shutting of a door.
"Were do you think we are?" Harry asked.
"Don't know." Grace said shrugging.
"And get another box of Jelly Slugs, dear, they've nearly cleaned us out —" said a woman's voice.
A pair of feet was coming down the staircase. Both of them leapt behind an enormous crate and waited for the footsteps to pass. They heard the man shifting boxes against the opposite wall. They might not get another chance —
Quickly and silently, Grace and Harry dodged out from their hiding place and climbed the stairs; looking back, Grace saw an enormous backside and shiny bald head, buried in a box. Grace reached the door at the top of the stairs, slipped through it with Harry behind her, and found herself behind the counter of Honeydukes — she ducked, crept sideways, and then straightened up.
Honeydukes was so crowded with Hogwarts students that no one looked twice at Grace and Harry. They edged among them and started looking around.
"I can't believe my parents were keeping me away from this." said Grace.
There were shelves upon shelves of the most succulent-looking sweets imaginable. Creamy chunks of nougat, shimmering pink squares of coconut ice, fat, honey-colored toffees; hundreds of different kinds of chocolate in neat rows; there was a large barrel of Every Flavor Beans, and another of Fizzing Whizbees, the levitating sherbet balls that Ron had mentioned; along yet another wall were 'Special Effects' — sweets: Droobles Best Blowing Gum (which filled a room with bluebell-colored bubbles that refused to pop for days), the strange, splintery Toothflossing Stringmints, tiny black Pepper Imps ('breathe fire for your friends!'), Ice Mice ('hear your teeth chatter and squeak!'), peppermint creams shaped like toads ('hop realistically in the stomach!'), fragile sugar-spun quills, and exploding bonbons.
Grace and Harry squeezed themselves through a crowd of sixth years and saw a sign hanging in the farthest corner of the shop (UNUSUAL TASTES). Ron and Hermione were standing underneath it, examining a tray of blood-flavored lollipops. Grace and Harry sneaked up behind them.
"Ugh, no, Grace and Harry won't want one of those, they're for vampires, I expect," Hermione was saying.
"How about these?" said Ron, shoving a jar of Cockroach Clusters under Hermione's nose.
"Definitely not," said Harry.
"You think I would eat that?" said Grace at the same time.
Ron nearly dropped the jar.
"Grace! Harry!" squealed Hermione. "What're you two doing here? How — how did you —?"
"Wow!" said Ron, looking very impressed, "you've both learned to Apparate!"
"'Course we haven't," said Harry.
Grace dropped her voice so that none of the sixth years could hear her and told them all about the Marauder's Map.
"How come Fred and George never gave it to me!" said Ron, outraged. "I'm their brother!"
"But Harry and Grace aren't going to keep it!" said Hermione, as though the idea were ludicrous. "They're going to hand it in to Professor McGonagall, aren't you, Grace?"
"No, we're not!" said Grace.
"Are you mad?" said Ron, goggling at Hermione. "Hand in something that good?"
"If we I hand it in, we'll have to say where we got it!" said Grace. "Filch would know Fred and George had nicked it!"
"But what about Sirius Black?" Hermione hissed. "He could be using one of the passages on that map to get into the castle! The teachers have got to know!"
"He can't be getting in through a passage," said Harry quickly. "There are seven secret tunnels on the map, right? Fred and George reckon Filch already knows about four of them. And of the other three — one of them's caved in, so no one can get through it. One of them's got the Whomping Willow planted over the entrance, so you can't get out of it. And the one I just came through — well — it's really hard to see the entrance to it down in the cellar — so unless he knew it was there —"
Ron, however, cleared his throat significantly, and pointed to a notice pasted on the inside of the sweetshop door.
BY ORDER OF THE MINISTRY OF MAGIC
Customers are reminded that until further notice, Dementors will be patrolling the streets of Hogsmeade every night after sundown. This measure has been put in place for the safety of Hogsmeade residents and will be lifted upon the recapture of Sirius Black. It is therefore advisable that you complete your shopping well before nightfall.
Merry Christmas!
"See?" said Ron quietly. "I'd like to see Black try and break into Honeydukes with Dementors swarming all over the village. Anyway, Hermione, the Honeydukes owners would hear a breakin, wouldn't they? They live over the shop!"
"Yes, but — but —" Heroine seemed to be struggling to find another problem. "Look, Harry and Grace still shouldn't be coming into Hogsmeade. They haven't got a signed form! If anyone finds out, they'll be in so much trouble! And it's not nightfall yet — what if Sirius Black turns up today? Now?"
"First of all, Sirius Black isn't behind me." said Grace. "So there is no reason why I should return to school, and in case of Harry, he'd have a job spotting Harry in this," nodding through the mullioned windows at the thick, swirling snow. "Come on, Hermione, it's Christmas. We deserves a break."
Hermione bit her lip, looking extremely worried.
"Are you going to report us?" Harry asked her, grinning.
"Oh — of course not — but honestly, Harry —"
"Seen the Fizzing Whizbees, Harry?" said Ron, grabbing Harry and Grace and leading them over to their barrel. "And the Jelly Slugs? And the Acid Pops? Fred gave me one of those when I was seven —"
"— it burnt a hole right through his tongue." said Grace. "I remember Mum walloping Fred with her broomstick."
Ron stared broodingly into the Acid Pop box. "Reckon Fred'd take a bite of Cockroach Cluster if I told him they were peanuts?"
When Ron and Hermione had paid for all their sweets, the four of them left Honeydukes for the blizzard outside.
Hogsmeade looked like a Christmas card; the little thatched cottages and shops were all covered in a layer of crisp snow; there were holly wreaths on the doors and strings of enchanted candles hanging in the trees.
Grace and Harry shivered; unlike the other two, they didn't have their cloak. They headed up the street, heads bowed against the wind, Ron and Hermione shouting through their scarves.
"That's the post office —"
"Zonko's is up there —"
"We could go up to the Shrieking Shack —"
"Tell you what," said Ron, his teeth chattering, "shall we go for a butterbeer in the Three Broomsticks?"
Grace and Harry were more than willing; the wind was fierce and their hands were freezing, so they crossed the road, and in a few minutes were entering the tiny inn.