If one was to walk down the street Grimmauld Place, London, he would see big houses with dirty front sides, a few of them unoccupied, some of them with broken windows, others with rubbish on the front stairs, all of them old and dark-looking. One also might notice, if he did linger despite the unwelcoming surroundings, that number eleven was followed directly by number thirteen. There seemed to be no number twelve, since the owner, a certain Harry James Potter, had never bothered to lift the enchantments the fore-owners had placed upon the building. At times it was quite useful to have a house that could not be seen, especially if one was followed by an army of journalists trying to get an interview.

For some people though, a number twelve, Grimmauld Place, did exist. Many of them had their place along the special table at the Leaky Cauldron. When they walked down the street, they saw a grand old building, proudly outshining the run-down neighbors, more a mansion than a house. The door was black with a silver door knocker in the form of a serpent, glittering polished in the light of the street lamps. The windows were high, and some of them appeared to have been widened rather recently, but the work had been done to fit the majestic style of the rest of the front side. There was a welcoming light behind the curtains.

In a room upstairs, James Potter the Second, a boy with unruly black hair, hazel eyes and knobbly knees, was doing some last-minute packing for Hogwarts. Most of his things – all his robes, his books and his other supplies for class – he had packed earlier, helped by his mother, even though he had tried to explain that he didn’t need help. He suspected she had just tried to make sure he wouldn’t bring anything he wasn’t allowed to bring, like a Fanged Frisbee or a Ever-Bashing Boomerang. As if he was interested in one of those… There were other things banned though, which bothered him more. For example, he wouldn’t be allowed his broom, as he would be a first year, and so far, all his attempts to nick his father’s Invisibility Cloak had only bought him trouble.

James slumped onto the bed while listening very carefully to the sounds within the house. He was supposed to sleep, but how could he sleep the night before he went to school? His gaze wandered through the room. It was decorated in red and gold, the colors of Gryffindor house. He just knew he was going to be there. He had to!

He sighed. The desk next to the window was almost empty now, because his mother had somehow gotten the idea that his room should be cleaned up when he left for Hogwarts. All his books – at least those he didn’t take – were filed into the shelves. It didn’t look right that way. There should be clothes dropped on the floor, comics, half a chess set mixed with exploding snap cards, and a few fake wands from Uncle George. It just wasn’t right that his room was that tidy, that neat. It looked almost like his little brothers room, only that Al’s room wasn’t red and gold.

James heard a door close one floor down, and at once he was at his feet. He could hear his father walk downstairs, hopefully towards the kitchen, maybe to the living room. James opened his door and hesitated on the hall. There was a loud crack downstairs and then he could faintly hear a penetrating voice asking: “Would Master like some tea?”

So his father was in the living room. Darn. Still, it was now or never. James quickly looked upstairs, but his brother Al’s door was tightly shut, as was Lily’s, his sister. They were probably both sulking, since they were not going to Hogwarts tomorrow. James allowed himself a smug smile. It was great to be the oldest.

As quietly as he could, James glided down the stairs. He was headed for his father’s study. In fact, he was going to be a naughty boy. He couldn’t help it.

A couple of weeks ago he had witnessed a scene that wouldn’t let him rest anymore. They had been at a get-together at the Leaky Cauldron, when he had seen his cousin Teddy Lupin hand over a piece of parchment to his father. “I don’t need this any longer,” Teddy had said to Harry Potter, his godfather. Then he had asked: “Are you going to give it to James?”

At that point, James had quickly ducked out of sight, curious what his father would say. Grinning, Harry Potter had answered: “I don’t think it’s a good idea to give James the Marauder’s Map. He and Fred are going to cause enough mayhem at Hogwarts without it.”

And James had sat there, dumbfounded. Of course he had known about the Marauder’s Map, that glorious design of his grandfather’s and grandfather’s friends’, the four legendary marauders. Of course he had heard the stories, the tales from his father’s adventures with that map, of course he had known how much help it had been in defeating the Dark Lord Voldemort, and what genuine tricks his uncle George and his dead brother Fred had planned and put into action, always aided by the marvelous Marauder’s Map.

But no one, not anyone, had ever bothered to tell James that it still existed! He had believed it lost in the Second War, destroyed, possibly burned during the Battle of Hogwarts! Nobody had ever cared to tell him that it had been with Teddy Lupin for all those years. He had felt just a tiny bit betrayed once he had finally found out. Only when he had thought about it in his room for quite some time he had acknowledged that nobody had a higher claim on the map than Theodore Lupin, who had never met his father Remus Lupin, the last one of the Marauders, who had died at the Battle of Hogwarts. After all James had heard about the map, it had taken on the personalities of its forgers, making it possible in a very limited form to communicate with them. Sure it had been a very valuable heirloom to Teddy.

But now he had given it back to James’ Dad, who had once gotten it from Fred and George Weasley, not knowing what it really was and where it came from. Why had Teddy done so, if not for James to get it one day? What use had his Dad of it, who only visited Hogwarts a few times each year to talk during Defense against the Dark Arts classes?

James had looked out for it very carefully during the last days, and he was now sure he knew where it was: In the second drawer of his father’s desk. So here he was, at the bottom step of the stairway, carefully glancing around the corner into the living room, hoping, praying that no one was looking his direction. His parents both had turned their backs on him, and they seemed to stare down into the fireplace.

“Are you sure about this Richard, Hannah?” Ginny, his mother, was just asking.

James recognized Hannah Longbottom’s voice as she replied: “He was all alone, and he seemed quite bitter. I just thought I’d let you know, so that you can look out for him when you get to the platform. He tried not to show it, but I could feel he was a bit scared when he was in the courtyard.”

“I can imagine,” Harry said. “I felt uncomfortable myself when I didn’t know how to get to platform nine and three-quarters.”

“It can’t hurt if we look out for him,” Ginny agreed. “Just to be… well… safe.”

There was a meaningful silence within the living room, then Hannah said: “As I wrote to you, his hair was dark blonde, and his eyes were gray. He should be easy to recognize from the way he acted.”

James wondered who they were talking about, but he didn’t have time to linger. It sounded like they were talking about some new student Hannah Longbottom had met in advance. It wouldn’t be the first. Hannah enjoyed watching people far too much, in James’ opinion. After five years of practice in the Leaky Cauldron, she had become too good a judge of what people were up to. She tended to notice things.

In a swift movement James crossed the doorway and into the shadows in front of his father’s study. For a moment he was certain that the huge, bulging eyes of the ancient house elf Kreacher had noticed him. He held his breath, waiting, but nothing happened. After a second he dared breathing again and fished for a hairpin within his pockets. His father’s study was locked, and he wasn’t allowed magic to open it, but he had very carefully read the book his uncle George had written, One-hundred Muggle-tricks every wizard ought to know, a book that described in great detail how to make knots that wouldn’t loosen, how to loosen knots tied with magic, how to make fire the Muggle-way, and also how to open a door without magic. James had practiced that last trick for quite some time, and he managed to open his Dad’s door almost soundlessly.

His heart was beating wildly as he slipped through the door. There was the desk, there were the drawers. Luckily, those weren’t locked. Slowly, to avoid any sound, James opened them. He was horribly aware of his parents just behind the wall, still talking to Hannah Longbottom about whatever boy concerned her. It was strange enough that she was worried. Usually she wasn’t one to fret over things.

Finally, the drawer was open, and there it was: A piece of old, battered parchment nobody would look twice at, if he didn’t know what treasure he held in hands. James stared at it for a second, than snatched it quickly, closed the drawer – careful again – and left the room. Closing the door was almost harder than opening it, but after a moment the lock snapped in. James flew up the stairs as if he had wings underneath his feet, and was finally save inside his room. He fell onto the bed, the Marauder’s Map pressed to his chest.

He’d done it! He’d gotten it!

A rush of triumph flushed his cheeks and a wide grin appeared on his face. This made up twice for the broom he wasn’t allowed to bring. This made up for everything! He wouldn’t even need an Invisibility Cloak, now that he had access to all secret passages, and sure Fred would let him borrow his broom once in a while, if he could get the Marauder’s Map in return.

James had to bite his fist to stifle his laughter as he thought of Fred’s face when he heard what wonderful treasure James had gotten them.

This would be their year. Hogwarts hadn’t seen any true marauders since Fred and George Weasley had left the school in their legendary defiance of High Inquisitor Umbrigde, more than twenty years ago. It was more than time somebody seized that place, and now James felt quite up to it. He all but regretted that there would be no High Inquisitor they could fight…

Downstairs, Harry Potter had finished his chat with Hannah Longbottom and was having a second cup of tea. There was a comfortable silence between him and his wife Ginny, filled by the cracks from the fireplace. It was suddenly broken by the piercing voice of Kreacher the house elf.

“Mr. Potter, Sir, Kreacher is sorry to interrupt you,” the old elf said.

“What is it, Kreacher?”, Harry asked, smiling.

“Kreacher is worried, Sir,” the house elf replied. “Kreacher seen young Master James slip into Master’s room and take something away, Master.”

Harry Potter still smiled. “What was it he took, Kreacher?”

“Kreacher does not know,” the old elf gave back. “Kreacher only seen old parchment.”

“It’s nothing to worry about then,” Harry said. “But thank you for informing me, Kreacher.”

The house elf bowed deeply, his nose almost touching the ground. “Kreacher is happy to serve, Master,” he said, and vanished with a loud crack.

Harry Potter looked up to face his wife, and they both grinned.

“I’ve been wondering whether he’d take it,” Ginny said. “Maybe we should warn Neville?”

“I bet he’ll find out quickly enough,” Harry replied.