More Than Just a Pureblood

Chapter Twelve |Year Three|

Chapter Twelve |Year Three|

The next day, Harry went up to Amelie, who was standing at a corridor, holding her books and looking extremely tired. Harry could guess that the young French veela hadn't gotten much sleep the past night.

If only Harry knew. He was ecstatic to show Amelie something, something that Fred and George had given him... and it was a keeper.

"You look tired," he told Amelie, commenting on her appearance.

Amelie yawned. "Well then, I feel as well as I look," she paused. "I look terrible, don't I?"

Harry smiled. "No, why would you think that? You're too self-deprecating, Amelie. You're - um, really - pretty," he said awkwardly. Amelie waved it off.

"I suppose you're right..." she said, then sighed. "But I'll never be beautiful. Not as much as my sister, Camille. She's drop-dead gorgeous,"

Harry was going to say that there were many people prettier than Camille, but then stopped himself. This conversation was turning too far away from where he was heading.

"Anyways - um, Fred and George gave me something yesterday," he said excitedly.

"And that 'something' was?"

"The marauder's map!" he exclaimed. Amelie's face mirrored confusion. He sighed. "Just look," the boy then took out a ragged piece of parchment. It was crisp and yellowed, faded from age. She looked at him strangely.

"This haggard piece of parchment is what you were excited to show me?" she asked quizzically. Harry ran a hand through his messy hair.

"No - here, let me show you," Harry tapped the piece of parchment with his wand and said, "I solemnly swear I am up to no good,"

At once, the ink lines began to spread like a spider's web from the point where Harry's wand 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

Harry held it in front of him so Amelie could see it, who was gazing at the map with wonder. She was looking at the tiny ink dots that were moving around all over the map, with tiny, minuscule handwriting labeling each and every dot wandering the map.

"Now look," he said, and pointed his wand at it again. "Mischief managed,"

Everything on the map disappeared, so that it was just a ruddy piece of parchment once again. "Wow," breathed Amelie. Harry looked triumphantly at her.

"Wow, right? Hermione wants me to give it to McGonagall, and she said you would agree with me too. You don't, right?"

"Of course I don't!" exclaimed Amelie, giggling. "I love pranking. At Beauxbatons, I would prank all the time. I just... stopped when I got here,"

"Oh, okay," Harry said casually. "Well, you can join me, if you like!"

"I'd love to. Marauders of the second generation?" asked Amelie.

"Marauders of the second generation,"

***

Amelie was in the library, studying with her Blaise and Draco when they overheard some Gryffindor gossip. Yes, Blaise and Draco had become her friends. She was still best friends with Lexi and Daphne, they shared a dorm after all, but she studied some times with Draco and Blaise.