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After they had tested the limits of her new ability, and he was satisfied that she was equipped well enough to not get pinned, Bane chucked a bow and quiver at Heri; she would now help them control the acromantula population. 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 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. Zacharias, Ernie, Hannah, and Wayne would be returning home, but Megan and Sally-Anne had decided to stay. Hannah had initially bounced back and forth between going and staying, but she eventually decided to go when her mother wrote and told her that they were going to host a Christmas party. To the elation of everyone, another Hogsmeade weekend had been scheduled for the last day of term. Despite the fact that nothing had happened the last Hogsmeade weekend, the teachers were unhappy at letting Heri go. They had been paranoid since Halloween, understandably so, of course. Not to mention her problem with the dementors. Still, her broom had been blown into the Whomping Willow when she fell from it and it was completely demolished; she needed to place an order for a new one and she could only do so in Hogsmeade. As Heri was trotting toward the Entrance Hall to meet up with her friends, she was waylaid by Fred and George. The two boys sprang out from a tapestry, hoisted her up between them, and scurried back behind the tapestry before she knew what was going on. A few moments in the dark passageway led them through a secret entrance to one of the empty classrooms a floor up. "Early Christmas present for you, Heri," said Fred as they put her down again. He 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. Heri, suspecting one of Fred and George's jokes, stared at it. "What's that supposed to be?" "I see you don't remember it. This, Miss Potter, 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, your 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 I need with a bit of old parchment?" said Heri, her tone as dubious as her expression. "A bit of old parchment!" said Fred, closing his eyes with a grimace as though Heri had mortally offended him. "Explain, George." "Well . . . when we were in our first year, Heri — young, carefree, and innocent —" Heri snorted. She doubted that had been a time when Fred and George were innocent. "— well, more innocent than we are now — we got into a spot of bother with Filch." "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." Heri groaned. "Don't tell me . . ." She couldn't help the grin growing on her face. They went on to detail how they managed to nick the thing from Filch — strategic Dungbombing — and expounded on how it had changed their lives. "You're winding me up," said Heri, hands on hips, eyeing 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." 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 labelled with a name in minuscule writing. Astounded, Heri bent over it. A labelled 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 was currently bouncing around the trophy room. "And you're giving this to me?" breathed Heri, looking up again. "Well, you know . . ." said Fred, shrugging his shoulders but looking a bit awkward. George looked at her seriously. "It's just . . . with Sirius Black on the prowl, it's not safe for you to be wandering about without a clue. This way you'll be able to keep an eye out." Oh, these two . . . Heri's heart clenched. That they were so concerned for her . . . She couldn't help but hug the life out of them. "Right," said George briskly, patting her fondly on the head. "Don't forget to wipe it after you've used it —" "— or anyone can read it," Fred continued warningly. Just tap it again and say, 'Mischief managed!' And it'll go blank." "So, Miss Potter," said Fred, in an uncanny impersonation of Percy. "Mind you behave yourself." They escorted Heri to where her friends were waiting and left to go meet up with their own after giving her knowing winks. Heri's friends brushed it off as the eccentricity inherent to the twins and left it at that.