The Hufflepuff common room glowed with morning light filtering through the circular windows, casting dappled patterns across the worn wooden tables. Chris sat in the corner, his Transfiguration textbook open before him, though his eyes weren't focused on the pages. For five days, he had observed, calculated, and mapped the movements of two particular Gryffindor third-years, and today, January 6th, was the day he would begin the active phase of his pursuit.
His fingers traced the tiny map he'd sketched on a scrap of parchment hidden between pages 394 and 395 of his textbook. The hand-drawn corridors marked potential interception points where the Weasley twins might be vulnerable to his plan. Chris had memorized their class schedule, noting the precious minutes between their shared Charms lesson and when they split for different electives, the perfect window for his ambush.
The common room was nearly empty, most Hufflepuffs still lingering over breakfast in the Great Hall. Perfect timing. Chris closed his textbook, slipped it into his bag, and moved to the darkened alcove near the entrance barrel. From his holster, he withdrew his wand, its wood warm against his palm as he began the series of concealment charms he'd been practicing in the privacy of his four-poster bed.
"Averto Notitia," he whispered, feeling the advanced Notice-Me-Not charm settle over him like a thin veil, not true invisibility but a subtle misdirection that would cause eyes to slide past him without registering his presence. The spell's tendrils wrapped around him, adjusting to his magical signature.
Next came the Disillusionment Charm, more complex and requiring greater concentration. "Ocultus Persona," he incanted softly, tapping his wand against the top of his head. A sensation like cold water trickled down his body as the charm took effect, his form blurring at the edges, taking on the colors and textures of his surroundings. He glanced down at his hands, now nearly transparent, visible only as a slight distortion in the air.
"Silencio Vestigium." The final charm muffled his footsteps, allowing him to move without the telltale sounds that might alert sensitive ears to an invisible presence. Three layers of concealment, far beyond first-year capabilities, but necessary for the mission ahead.
Chris slipped out through the barrel entrance, navigating the familiar corridors with practiced ease. Other students passed by, their eyes never lingering on the slight shimmer in the air that betrayed his presence. He climbed staircases, avoided the more populated routes, and eventually positioned himself in an alcove near the portrait of the Fat Lady, guardian of Gryffindor Tower.
The wait wasn't long. As the clock struck eight, the portrait swung open, releasing a flood of red-and-gold clad students hurrying to their first classes. Chris's eyes narrowed, scanning for the distinctive flash of Weasley red hair. There, at the back of the group, heads bent together in conspiratorial whispers, identical grins lighting their freckled faces.
"Absolute stroke of genius, Forge," one twin was saying as they passed within feet of Chris's hiding spot.
"Why thank you, Gred," the other replied, adjusting his book bag. "McGonagall won't know what hit her desk."
Chris followed at a careful distance, maintaining the sweet spot where he could hear their conversation without risking detection. They moved through the castle with the confident stride of those who knew every secret passage and hidden alcove, occasionally consulting something tucked in Fred's inner pocket, a flash of aged parchment that made Chris's pulse quicken. The Marauder's Map, his target, temporarily visible before disappearing back into the folds of the Gryffindor's robes.
Over the next three days, Chris continued his surveillance, building a comprehensive understanding of the twins' patterns. Tuesday afternoon found him concealed behind a suit of armor on the fourth floor, watching as the pair tested an enchanted dungbomb that, rather than simply releasing its noxious odor, seemed to multiply and follow specific targets.
"The smell-tracking charm needs refinement," George muttered, waving his wand to control one of the floating spheres. "It's still fixating on the wrong scents."
"Agreed," Fred replied, consulting a small notebook. "Maybe if we incorporated essence of bloodhound into the base mixture..."
Their technical discussion proved surprisingly sophisticated, confirming Chris's assessment that the twins' magical talents far exceeded their academic records. Good to know, but also a warning that his own magical skills would be tested when the time came to relieve them of their map.
By Thursday, Chris had compiled enough data to begin finalizing his strategy. The twins separated each day after lunch, Fred heading to Divination in the North Tower while George made his way to Muggle Studies. This brief window when they parted ways represented his best opportunity, but he needed to confirm which twin typically carried the map.
Friday's observation session provided the answer. As the twins exited the Great Hall after breakfast, Chris positioned himself near the marble staircase, his concealment charms at full strength. The crowds offered additional cover as he edged closer, listening intently.
"Library after lunch?" George suggested, adjusting the strap of his bag. "We need to reference that book on Extension Charms before our meeting with Lee."
Fred nodded, patting his inner pocket with casual possessiveness. "With this, we can avoid Pince entirely. The passage behind the mirror on the fourth floor leads straight to the Restricted Section."
Chris's eyes tracked the subtle movement, catching a glimpse of the parchment's edge. The map was definitely in Fred's possession, at least for today. One more variable confirmed.
By Saturday evening, his surveillance had yielded enough patterns to establish a predictable routine. The twins used the map primarily during their evening activities, checking it frequently as they set up pranks or explored the castle. They often followed a specific route from the Great Hall after dinner, taking the marble staircase to the fourth floor before branching off toward their various mischief destinations.
On Sunday, January 12th, Chris made his final observation run, confirming once more that Fred kept the map in his inner robe pocket. As the twins passed the portrait of Wendelin the Weird on the fourth floor, Chris noted how they glanced around before slipping behind a tapestry depicting a sleeping dragon, a shortcut he hadn't known existed.
The location was perfect: secluded, rarely travelled by other students, and offering a convenient alcove where he could wait undetected. Tomorrow, after dinner, would be the ideal time to strike. The twins would be focused on their evening's mischief, unlikely to immediately notice the map's absence if he executed the theft cleanly.
Chris returned to the Hufflepuff dormitory that night, his mind cycling through the plan's details as he prepared for bed. The apartment trunk hung against his chest on its silver chain, a comforting weight containing all the resources he'd need for the next phase of his larger mission. But first, the map.
Tomorrow, the Marauder's Map would change hands, and with it, Chris's ability to monitor and manipulate the unfolding events at Hogwarts would increase exponentially. Sleep came easily, his dreams filled with ink-drawn corridors and moving footprints tracking across parchment.
The fourth-floor corridor stretched empty and silent, afternoon sunlight slanting through tall windows to illuminate ancient stone and worn carpets. Behind the tapestry of a sleeping dragon, in an alcove barely large enough for a grown wizard to stand upright, Chris waited. His concealment charms had been refreshed an hour earlier, and he stood perfectly still, controlling his breathing as he had practiced, becoming part of the castle's ancient stillness. The Weasley twins would pass this way after dinner, according to five days of careful observation, and he would be ready.
His wand rested lightly between his fingers, the Yggdrasill wood responding to his magic with a subtle warmth. Chris had spent hours in his apartment trunk practicing the precise wandwork required for a silent Stunning Spell, an advanced technique not taught until fifth year, but necessary for his purposes. The twins were talented and quick; he would have only one chance to incapacitate them both before either could react.
Footsteps echoed from the far end of the corridor, accompanied by familiar voices that bounced off stone walls. Chris tensed, his senses sharpening as he peered through a small gap where the tapestry met the wall.
", and then Filch's face went this magnificent shade of purple," Fred's voice carried clearly as the twins rounded the corner, their identical faces lit with mischievous delight.
"Matched his description in our detention records perfectly," George replied, adjusting his book bag. "I still think we should catalog the exact color for future reference."
Fred laughed, the sound echoing through the corridor. "Filch-Fury Purple: best observed from a running position." He patted his inner robe pocket with casual possessiveness, the exact gesture Chris had been waiting for, confirmation that the map was still there.
The twins slowed as they approached the tapestry, their voices dropping slightly. Perfect positioning. Chris's grip on his wand tightened, his breath held as he waited for them to pass directly in front of his hiding spot.
"The password changes tonight," Fred was saying, hand dipping toward his pocket. "We should check the map before…"
Chris moved with practiced grace, the tapestry barely stirring as he silently cast two consecutive Stunning Spells with the smallest of wand movements. Twin jets of red light streaked through the narrow gap, striking each Weasley squarely in the back. Their words cut off mid-sentence as their bodies crumpled forward, landing with soft thuds on the stone floor.
For one heartbeat, Chris remained frozen, listening intently for any sound of approaching students or staff. The corridor remained silent. He stepped out from behind the tapestry, his Disillusionment Charm still active, giving him the appearance of a heat shimmer in the air as he quickly checked both directions again. Satisfied they were truly alone, he knelt beside Fred's motionless form.
The inner pocket of Fred's robes yielded exactly what he sought, a folded piece of aged parchment, unremarkable to casual observation but humming with complex magic beneath Chris's sensitive fingertips. The Marauder's Map, created by Harry's father and his friends, a masterpiece of magical cartography and monitoring enchantments.
Chris moved swiftly now, aware that stunning spells typically lasted only a few minutes without reinforcement. He cast a silent detection charm over the map, his wand tracing complex patterns above the parchment. The spell revealed a network of monitoring charms woven into the map's fabric, sophisticated magic that would alert certain individuals if the map was used or changed hands.
"Interesting," Chris murmured, unable to recognise the magical signature. Not Dumbledore's work as he'd initially suspected, but something older, likely built into the map by its creators. The Marauders had been cleverer than he'd given them credit for.
Fortunately, he'd prepared for this possibility. From his robe pocket, he withdrew a small vial containing a single drop of liquid that shimmered with an internal light. It had taken days to brew this transfer medium in his trunk's potion laboratory, combining raven feathers and mercury under a waning moon, the perfect catalyst for magical signature displacement.
With precise movements, Chris applied the drop to the center of the map, then swept his wand in a figure eight pattern while whispering, "Transfero Vestigium." The monitoring charms glowed briefly blue before seeming to lift from the parchment like tiny threads, hovering in the air for a moment before settling onto the twins' robes where they dissipated, undetectable to all but the most thorough magical examination.
Now, when the original enchantments triggered alerts, they would indicate the map was still with its previous owners. Chris cast another detection charm, confirming the parchment was now clean of tracking magic, then carefully tucked it into his own inner pocket.
The entire operation had taken less than ninety seconds. Chris moved to position himself behind the tapestry once more, then pointed his wand at the fallen Weasleys.
"Rennervate," he whispered, directing the spell at both brothers simultaneously. As the magic took effect, Chris slipped fully behind the tapestry, maintaining his position in the small alcove, perfectly concealed.
Fred stirred first, a groan escaping his lips as he pushed himself up on his elbows. "What the bloody hell was that?"
George rolled onto his back, blinking at the ceiling in confusion. "Did we just...fall over?"
"Can't have," Fred muttered, rising to his knees. "Both of us at once? Someone must have jinxed us." He looked around suspiciously, hand instinctively checking his inner pocket. Finding the familiar shape of parchment still there, he relaxed slightly.
The transfer enchantment had worked perfectly—Fred's pocket contained what felt identical to the map, though it was now merely a clever facsimile with enough residual magic to fool a casual check. The actual map resided against Chris's chest, hidden beneath his robes.
"Probably Peeves," George decided, getting to his feet and dusting off his robes. "Remember when he learned to cast invisible trip jinxes last term? Nearly got the whole Quidditch team during practice."
Fred nodded, the explanation satisfying enough for his pride. "We'll have to add that to our revenge list. Come on, we're meant to meet Lee in ten minutes."
The twins continued down the corridor, their earlier enthusiasm slightly dampened but otherwise unharmed. From his hiding place, Chris allowed himself a moment of satisfaction. Phase one of his plan had been executed flawlessly—the map was his, the previous owners were unaware of its true absence, and no one had witnessed the exchange.
He waited another five minutes after the sound of the twins' footsteps had faded completely, using the time to center himself and strengthen his concealment charms once more. The weight of the map in his pocket felt significant beyond its physical presence. A tool that would exponentially increase his ability to navigate Hogwarts undetected, to anticipate movements, to plan his next moves with precision.
The journey back to Hufflepuff territory required navigating four floors down and crossing half the castle. Under normal circumstances, it would be a simple walk, but Chris had no intention of dropping his concealment charms until he was safely behind closed doors. Moving with deliberate steps, he kept to the edges of corridors, avoiding the center where students typically walked. His Silencing Charm maintained perfect quiet despite his shoes on stone.
A group of Ravenclaws approached from the direction of the library, their arms laden with books, voices engaged in heated debate about Golpalott's Second Law of potion-making. Chris pressed himself into a window alcove, barely breathing as they passed within inches of his position. None glanced his way, the Notice-Me-Not charm directing their attention elsewhere even when one Ravenclaw's bookbag brushed against his concealed form.
The moving staircases presented a particular challenge. Chris timed his descent carefully, stepping onto each staircase only when other students were also moving, using their footsteps to mask any subtle indication of his presence. When a staircase shifted unexpectedly, forcing him to take a longer route through the second-floor corridor past the Transfiguration classroom, he maintained his calm, adjusting his path with the fluid adaptability that had become second nature.
Professor McGonagall emerged from her classroom just as Chris approached, her sharp eyes scanning the corridor as if sensing something amiss. He froze mid-step, aware that of all the faculty, the Deputy Headmistress was most likely to detect the subtle magical distortion of a Disillusionment Charm. She paused, her gaze sweeping past his position once, then returning for a second, more focused examination.
For three heartbeats, Chris stood perfectly still, not even allowing himself to blink. McGonagall's eyes narrowed slightly before a passing student called her attention to a question about their recent homework assignment. The moment of scrutiny passed, and Chris continued his careful journey, making a mental note to strengthen his concealment charms further when attempting to navigate areas where McGonagall might be present.
Finally reaching the basement corridor leading to the Hufflepuff entrance, Chris paused to ensure no one was watching before approaching the stack of barrels near the kitchen. He glanced in both directions, then tapped the rhythm on the correct barrel. Two short taps, pause, three medium taps, mimicking the pattern of "Helga Hufflepuff" as required for entrance. The barrel lid swung open, revealing the earthy passage beyond.
Chris slipped inside, maintaining his concealment until he was fully within the common room. The familiar space welcomed him with its warm yellow glow, comfortable armchairs arranged around the perpetually crackling fire, and the sweet scent of fresh soil from the plants that lined the circular windows. Several of his housemates lounged about, some playing Exploding Snap, others finishing homework assignments before the week began.
Only when he confirmed that no one was paying particular attention to the entrance did Chris gradually release his concealment charms, making it appear as though he had just walked in normally. The magic dissipated in layers, first the Silencing Charm, then the Notice-Me-Not, and finally the Disillusionment, his form solidifying as if emerging from thin air in a spot where no one happened to be looking.
"Chris!" Hannah called from a corner table where she was arranging color-coded study notes with Susan. "We were wondering where you'd gone. Library again?"
"Just exploring," he replied with a casual smile, adjusting his robes to ensure the map remained secure in his inner pocket. "The castle seems different on weekends, quieter. I found a wonderful painting of a magical orchard on the fifth floor, the apples change colour with the seasons."
Susan looked up from her notes, one eyebrow slightly raised in that particular way that suggested she sensed there was more to his story, but she didn't press. "Well, you're just in time. We're organizing our Herbology revision schedule for the term."
"I'll join you in a bit," Chris promised. "Need to grab something from my room first."
Arriving in his room, Chris closed the door behind him, casting a simple alert charm that would warn him if anyone approached. Then, with swift movements, he withdrew the silver chain from beneath his shirt, the miniaturized apartment trunk hanging from it like an elaborate pendant.
"Ambrosia Sanctum," he whispered, touching the trunk with his wand, the lid swinging open to reveal the wooden staircase descending into golden light.
He climbed down quickly, the lid closing automatically above him once he was fully inside. The sitting room of his private sanctuary welcomed him with its comfortable familiarity, leather armchairs, crackling fire, and bookshelves lined with volumes both ancient and modern. Through one doorway, he glimpsed the ritual chamber where eventually he would perform the soul transfer ritual on Harry, but today his destination was the study.
Chris moved purposefully to the polished oak desk positioned beneath a magical window that currently displayed a fake, yet peaceful view of Ambrosia Manor's gardens. He pulled the chair back and finally, with a sense of ceremony, removed the Marauder's Map from his inner pocket.
The aged parchment lay unassuming on the rich wooden surface, its magical potential hidden beneath a blank exterior. Chris's fingers tingled with anticipation as he placed both hands on the map, feeling the subtle pulse of enchantment beneath his palms. After days of planning and hours of careful execution, he finally possessed one of the most powerful magical artifacts at Hogwarts, not for its innate power, but for the strategic advantage it would provide.
Now, alone in the privacy of his trunk, he could finally explore its secrets.
The blank parchment lay before him on the polished desk, deceptively ordinary except for the faint aura of complex magic that Chris could sense beneath his fingertips. His heart beat a steady rhythm of anticipation as he drew his wand, positioning it carefully against the center of the folded map. From his previous life, from stories read and memories carried across the void between existences, he knew the exact words required to awaken this particular magical artifact. He took a deep breath, savouring the moment of acquisition that represented his first major victory in restructuring the future.
"I solemnly swear that I am up to no good," he whispered, the phrase feeling both foreign and familiar on his tongue.
The effect was immediate and mesmerizing. From the point where his wand touched the parchment, thin lines of ink spread outward like veins of quicksilver, branching, connecting, and forming an intricate lattice that rapidly took shape as Hogwarts Castle. Floor by floor, the map revealed itself—towers spiralling upward, dungeons unfurling below, corridors and classrooms spreading across the middle sections. Labels appeared, identifying not just the physical spaces but every single person within the castle walls, each represented by a tiny footprint labelled with their name, moving in real-time across the parchment.
Chris unfolded the map completely, spreading it across the desk's surface. Curling script appeared at the top, announcing: "Messrs. Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs, Purveyors of Aids to Magical Mischief-Makers, are proud to present THE MARAUDER'S MAP."
"Remarkable," Chris murmured, his eyes tracking the hundreds of moving dots representing the castle's inhabitants. The level of detail exceeded even his expectations—not just major passages and rooms, but every broom closet, every hidden alcove, and most importantly, every secret passage both within the castle and leading beyond its walls.
His eyes found Albus Dumbledore first, a tiny dot pacing within the circular Headmaster's office. The dot moved back and forth in a regular pattern that suggested deep thought or perhaps conversation with one of the portrait former headmasters. Knowing Dumbledore's location at all times would prove invaluable for Chris's more sensitive operations, particularly when he would need to access restricted areas or perform magic that might trigger the castle's ancient detection wards.
Next, he located Harry Potter in the Gryffindor common room, surrounded by the dots labelled "Ronald Weasley" and "Hermione Granger." The trio sat close together, likely engaged in homework or perhaps discussion of the mysteries Harry had already begun to notice regarding Nicholas Flamel. Chris's finger hovered over Harry's dot, knowing that within that small black mark resided both a young boy with an extraordinary destiny and a fragment of Voldemort's shattered soul. Soon enough, he would separate those elements, freeing Harry from his unwanted connection to the Dark Lord.
His gaze drifted to the dungeons, where Severus Snape moved methodically through his private laboratory. The Potions Master appeared to be alone, probably brewing something complex if his stationary position over what would be his workbench was any indication. Nearby, Slytherin students clustered in their common room beneath the lake, while Hufflepuffs, including dots labelled with the names of his housemates, occupied the basement chambers not far from where Chris's physical body now sat within the trunk.
Something near the edge of the map caught his attention, a dot labelled "Quirinus Quirrell" moving along the boundary of the Forbidden Forest. Chris leaned closer, noting how the professor's path seemed erratic, weaving between trees rather than following any established trail. Was he hunting for unicorns, unaware that Chris had already relocated the entire herd to Ambrosia Island? The thought brought a small smile to his lips. Quirrellmort would find no magical creatures to slaughter for their life-sustaining blood.
"Your host body is deteriorating faster now, isn't it, Voldemort?" Chris whispered to the distant dot. "No unicorn blood to sustain you, just poor Quirrell's dwindling life force." He tapped his finger thoughtfully beside the professor's marker. "You'll be forced to accelerate your plans for the Philosopher's Stone, which means I need to move faster as well."
Chris's attention shifted to the castle's secret passages, tracing them with his fingertip. The one-eyed witch passage to Honeydukes, the mirror on the fourth floor, the infamous Whomping Willow tunnel that led to the Shrieking Shack, all clearly marked and labelled. One particular passage caught his interest, a narrow line indicating a hidden corridor from the fourth floor directly to the kitchens, bypassing several major hallways and staircases. He hadn't known about that one, and it could prove useful for moving through the castle undetected.
The map also revealed several rooms he hadn't expected to see marked, including the precise location of all four house common rooms with their current passwords neatly labelled beside the entrances. This level of detail would be invaluable for his mission involving Peter Pettigrew, still disguised as Ron Weasley's pet rat. Being able to track "Scabbers" through the castle would allow Chris to plan the perfect moment to capture and expose the Animagus.
After nearly an hour of careful examination, Chris had memorised the most critical paths and made mental notes of several unexpected features. He'd need to study the map further in the coming days, but he had already gained crucial intelligence that would inform his next steps. The Philosopher's Stone would be his next target, requiring careful timing and navigation through the third-floor corridor's protections.
"Mischief managed," he said finally, tapping the parchment with his wand. The ink disappeared as thoroughly as it had appeared, the map once again becoming a blank piece of aged parchment. Chris folded it carefully along its original creases, then opened the central drawer of the desk and placed it inside, adding a simple locking charm keyed to his magical signature.
He leaned back in the chair, a sense of accomplishment warming his chest. The acquisition of the Marauder's Map represented far more than a successful theft, it was the first domino in a carefully arranged sequence that would ultimately rewrite the dark future he had come to prevent.