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Perhaps the old hat had been completely right about his sorting, because there was nothing that could describe Nicolás' initial impressions of Hufflepuff House other than solace.

The friendly demeanor of his new housemates had already started to dissolve the uneasy feeling that Harry's absence and the Circle of Khanna's story had cast over him. The warmth and hospitality they extended, even on this first day, spoke of a promising year ahead.

Another source of comfort was their common room's enviable location, nestled close to the kitchens. The tantalizing aroma of magical meals being prepared was enough to stir his appetite and help him focus on the positives.

And finally, the knowledge that he would be sharing a dorm with Cedric and three other boys was like a reassuring hug. If they were even remotely as kind as Cedric, Nicolás was confident that he was in for an enjoyable and memorable journey at Hogwarts.

Upon their arrival at the entrance, they had to perform a musical tune by tapping on a door that appeared to be a large keg. A mistaken note, however, resulted in a rather unpleasant vinegar bath. But as the door swung open, the true enchantment began to unfold.

Every inch of the interior was imbued with magic, from decorative bricks to wooden furniture, stairs, and ornamentations.

The common room had two floors: the common room itself, on the ground floor, where students gathered, and the dormitories above. With more than twenty dorms, each housing five students, it was clear that the space was expanded by enchantments. But then again, the entire castle thrived on magic.

The common room was like a mini cottage, with verdant creepers, petite house trees, and ornamental plants. Its decor was bathed in soothing earthy hues, reminiscent of the fertile soil back at the Cardona family reserve.

It was a place that extended a warm and loving embrace, calling you to share cookies with your loved ones in front of the cozy fireplace amidst the cruel winter.

Their dormitory was strangely similar to the one he had back in Castelobruxo. Fashioned in a circular layout, it featured five beds, each snugly tucked into its own circle-shaped space in the wall.

As Nicolás approached his bed, he spotted Ember lying there, donning his signature disgruntled expression.

Ember —who only God may know who, after running into the Forbidden Forest, had not only got inside the castle, but found his recently announced dorm room—, as the outdoor enthusiast he was, seemed out of his element in the confined space. The Wampus Cat stretched his colossal form, occupying nearly the entirety of the bed.

When the other roommates entered the room, they all recoiled in surprise, understandably taken aback by the sight of a six-legged big feline sprawled out on a bed in their dorm.

Amid the trio of apprehensive boys, a single brave soul inched closer to Nicolás, mustering the courage to ask for permission to pet Ember.

"Mate," the boy whispered, "would it bite my hand off if I pet it?"

This young boy had a complexion resembling porcelain, eyebrows that conveyed a wealth of emotions, and a striking feature: his hair was dyed in a soft, delicate shade of pink, accentuating his Asian features.

The unique combination of masculine and delicate qualities immediately intrigued Nicolás.

He introduced himself as Alexander Quince but preferred to be called Alec. Nicolás later learned that Alec was the Keeper of the Hufflepuff Quidditch Team.

"I don't know," Nicolás said, looking at Ember, "what do you say, boy?"

Ember simply walked up to them, nuzzling Nicolás' legs, before allowing Alec to pet his head.

"Pretty hair you've got there," Nicolás said, pointing at the boy's pink hair.

Interestingly, a simple compliment on his distinctive hair color was all it took to make the guy blush. His neck and cheeks flushed, quickly matching the hue of his hair.

The silence in their cozy Hufflepuff dorm was shattered when the door burst open, and in rushed Cedric, his eyes brimming with excitement, clutching a recent copy of the Daily Prophet.

But the headline was far from what Nicolás anticipated: "FLYING FORD ANGLIA MYSTIFIES MUGGLES."

The news struck him with a mix of astonishment and concern. It appeared that Harry and Ron had, indeed, taken a daring flight in a magical car, and their escapade had been witnessed by unsuspecting Muggles. Nicolás couldn't help but marvel at how they had avoided expulsion.

Within a mere few hours at Hogwarts, it was becoming abundantly clear that Harry had an uncanny knack for getting into trouble, reaffirming Caelum's description of him as a "problem magnet."

•─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•

In the early morning light, Nicolás awoke well ahead of the breakfast hour.

He gazed at Cedric's peaceful form, the boy lost in slumber, his disheveled hair and his rosy cheeks pressed affectionately against the pillow he was hugging. Deciding not to interrupt his dormmates' tranquil repose, Nicolás moved quietly.

With Ember in tow, he proceeded to get ready for the day. After bathing and dressing, he urged his sleepy feline companion to join him on their way outside.

"Come on, Ember," he encouraged, his voice soft but insistent. "We don't have all day."

Ember made a leisurely stretch before padding over to Nicolás' side, and they set off together, leaving the quiet castle behind. As they walked the dimly lit corridors, the few still sleepy students they encountered couldn't help but cast incredulous glances at Ember's impressive form.

Eventually, they arrived at Hagrid's hut. Nicolás knocked on the door with force, the sounds of movement and disruption emanating from within. In less than a minute, the door swung open, revealing a bewildered Hagrid.

With Hagrid taken aback by the early visitor, Nicolás decided to break the silence.

"Morning, Hagrid. My name is Nicolás. I'm sure the headmaster spoke to you about our agreement," Nicolás began, noticing Hagrid's nod of recognition. "This is Ember," he added, coaxing the large cat to step forward.

Hagrid took a moment to absorb this new information. "Well, yeh're Remus an' Carolina's lad, ain'tcha? I recall when yeh were just a wee bairn, I do."

Nicolás beamed. "That's me."

"An' look at this lovely lassie yeh've got here, ain't she a beauty?" Hagrid exclaimed, crouching down to Ember's level.

Nicolás chuckled at Ember's indignant expression. "He's actually a boy, Hagrid."

Hagrid made a surprised sound. "Oh, well, in that case, yeh've got a right handsome lad here, Nicolás." He extended a massive hand and ruffled Ember's fur, eliciting a pleased purr from the Wampus Cat. Ember sat on the floor; his chest puffed out in pride.

Nicolás witnessed the unexpected connection between Hagrid and Ember, and suddenly, the massive man tumbled to the floor, clearly not accustomed to the intrusiveness of Legilimency.

After assisting Hagrid back to his feet, Nicolás couldn't help but notice Fang, Hagrid's pet pup. Despite being quite large for a puppy, Nicolás decided to refrain himself from contradicting the giant about his pup's size.

Nicolás carefully explained to Hagrid what had happened, emphasizing to Ember the importance of not pushing the boundaries of Legilimency. Hagrid nodded in understanding and accompanied Nicolás to the Forbidden Forest, where Ember would be staying. Hagrid directed Ember toward a wooden cave, surprisingly spacious and much better than living in the wild as he did back at Castelobruxo.

"I suppose he'll be hunting for food, right?" Nicolás inquired.

"Dumbledore told me ter bring 'im two hearty meals each day, but fer the rest, he'll be on 'is own, explorin' the forest," Hagrid replied. Nicolás nodded, and Ember approached him, rubbing his head against his legs, a gesture that seemed to offer comfort.

"Okay, then. I'll go get breakfast, maybe I'll be able to see Harry." Nicolás commented.

"From what I heard last year, Harry was downright thrilled to finally meet you," Hagrid responded with a warm smile.

Nicolás returned the smile to the gigantic man. "Great. See you another time, Hagrid. If Ember needs anything—"

"Yeh'll be the very first to know, don't fret. Best be off now, get some grub in ya before them classes start."

As he walked back to the castle, Nicolás decided he liked Hagrid. The Keeper of Keys and Grounds was just as affable as his parents and everyone else had described him.

•─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•

As Nicolás strode into the Great Hall, the imposing stone walls echoed with the hum of anticipation. The space was bathed in the soft glow of countless candles, casting elongated shadows that danced upon the ancient floors. The long, wooden tables were already abuzz with a colorful tapestry of students, their laughter and chatter weaving together in a symphony of voices.

Amidst this lively scene, Nicolás' keen eyes fell upon the figure of Caelum. Caelum stood there in the Gryffindor table. He was deeply engrossed in conversation with a younger student, their animated dialogue oscillating between scolding and praising.

As Caelum spotted Nicolás and, with a warm smile, beckoned him forward. The young boy who had been the subject of their discourse turned to face Nicolás, his oversized glasses perched precariously on the bridge of his nose.

The sight of those glasses and caramel skin transported Nicolás back to days long past with his godfather, and, without a second thought, Nicolás found himself rushing forward. His heart swelled with a mix of emotions.

"Harry!" Nicolás' voice erupted, brimming with unrestrained joy as he rushed. Harry's initial look of confusion was soon eclipsed by a radiant epiphany, like a sunrise breaking through a cloudy morning.

In that instant, their worlds collided, and as Nicolás reached him, there was no pause, no hesitation. He gathered Harry into his arms with a bear hug. "Oh, sweet Merlin. I waited so long for this," Nicolás murmured softly, the words slipping from his lips with emotion as he spoke, and he felt Harry's silent affirmation, the subtle nod of agreement nestled against his chest.

For a moment, it seemed as though Harry was about to say something, his gaze reflecting the multitude of emotions that swirled within him, before settled for hugging Nicolás again.

Nicolás took a moment to savor the pure contentment that coursed through him, allowing it to wash over him like warm, comforting sunlight. With a gentle yet purposeful touch, he slowly separated Harry from their tight embrace. The smile that had graced his face moments ago transformed into a more serious expression.

"Now," Nicolás began, his voice carrying a subtle note of intrigue, "What's that I read about you and Ron stealing an illegal flying car and driving it to school?"

Harry's gaze dropped in a guilt-ridden expression, avoiding direct eye contact, and beside him, Ron mirrored the same sense of culpability.

But Nicolás' voice carried a unique blend of exasperation and genuine concern as he chastised them, "What on Earth were you both thinking?!" Their faces wore an expression of genuine surprise, caught off-guard by his stern reproach. "You could have died! You were seen! You could have been expelled! Maybe even land in prison."

As he continued his scolding, Nicolás' eyes discerned not just the remorse etched across their faces, but also the shadowy, haunting memories, as if they could have any wartime flashback with the scolding.

In the midst of this scolding, a girl with a cascade of curly hair nodded in agreement, her understanding gaze attesting to the gravity of the situation.

Caelum, who stood nearby, struggled to stifle a laugh, his knuckles pressed against his mouth in a futile attempt to suppress his amusement, one sharp look from his cousin was enough to shut him up. Nicolás' 'hen mother mode,' as he liked to call it, had the power to silence even the most obstinate of grins with a single, admonishing glance.

With a warm and welcoming smile, Nicolás turned his attention to the girl standing before him, her blush adding a hint of charm to her demeanor. "Hey, you must be Hermione," he greeted her, his words laced with genuine interest.

"You must be Nicolás," Hermione replied quickly, her words rushing forth with a hint of excitement. "Thank you for your help last year; it really helped us."

As he engaged in their brief exchange, Nicolás' gaze wandered to the book Hermione had been reading, its title emblazoned on the cover: 'Voyages with Vampires' of Lockhart. He couldn't help but curl his lip in disdain, a reaction that didn't go unnoticed. The girl promptly closed the book, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment, and Nicolás found himself about to apologize.

But before he could utter a word, the Great Hall was filled with the distinctive, echoing symphony of hundreds of owls, each carrying packages and letters.

Amidst the flurry of deliveries, Nicolás and Caelum received their own correspondences, a package was bestowed upon Hermione, and yet another found its way to a round-faced boy.

Then, a brown owl plummeted dramatically in front of Ron, its apparently lifeless form a stark contrast to the flurry of activity. Its feet dangled limply in the air, and gripped tightly in its beak was an unmistakable red envelope.

"Oh, no—" Ron gasped miserably, his voice a plaintive whisper.

A shared sense of foreboding seemed to wash over Nicolás and Caelum as they whispered in unison, "Oh, dear."

Harry, looking puzzled by the somber atmosphere that had enveloped them, couldn't help but inquire, "What's the matter?"

"She's—she's sent me a Howler," Ron admitted in a faint, defeated, and fearful tone, his eyes betraying a deep anxiety.

The other boy, Neville, whom Nicolás had only recently met, took it upon himself to explain the dire consequences of not opening a Howler sent by a family member. In just a few hushed words, he painted a vivid picture of the horrors that awaited anyone who dared to defy such a missive.

"Open it," Neville urged with desperation in his voice, as though the Howler was his own personal demon. "It'll all be over in a few minutes—"

"Ron, wait, I can—" Nicolás, eager to help, began to speak, but his words were abruptly silenced by the explosive voice that burst forth from the envelope the moment Ron dared to open it.

"STEALING THE CAR, I WOULDN'T HAVE BEEN SURPRISED IF THEY'D EXPELLED YOU, YOU WAIT TILL I GET HOLD OF YOU, I DON'T SUPPOSE YOU STOPPED TO THINK WHAT YOUR FATHER AND I WENT THROUGH WHEN WE SAW IT WAS GONE—"

The wrathful voice, who Nicolás assumed to be Mrs. Wesley, within the Howler reverberated throughout the Great Hall, its intensity enough to send plates and spoons rattling on the long wooden tables. The sheer volume of it drew the attention of everyone present, as they turned their heads to witness the dramatic unfolding of the Weasley family saga.

Ron, whose face was rivaling the fiery hue of his hair, shrank in his seat, giving way to embarrassment and self-recrimination, trying to hide himself.

"LETTER FROM DUMBLEDORE LAST NIGHT, I THOUGHT YOUR FATHER WOULD DIE OF SHAME, WE DIDN'T BRING YOU UP TO BEHAVE LIKE THIS, YOU AND HARRY COULD BOTH HAVE DIED—"

Harry, upon hearing his name mentioned, resorted to closing his eyes, lips tightly pressed together as he feigned indifference, all while attempting to block out the scolding.

"—ABSOLUTELY DISGUSTED—YOUR FATHER'S FACING AN INQUIRY AT WORK, IT'S ENTIRELY YOUR FAULT AND IF YOU PUT ANOTHER TOE OUT OF LINE WE'LL BRING YOU STRAIGHT BACK HOME."

As the words hung heavy in the air, the Great Hall felt like a suspended moment in time, everyone waiting with bated breath for the climax of Mrs. Weasley's scolding. The tension was palpable.

Just when it seemed that the Howler would continue its tirade indefinitely, it abruptly transitioned into a softer tone, a stark contrast to its earlier fury. "Oh, and Ginny, dear, congratulations on making Gryffindor. Your father and I are so proud," it concluded with surprising tenderness.

Ginny, a timid first-year girl whom Nicolás had seen the day before, smiled stiffly but attempted to go unnoticed, wishing to escape the scrutinizing eyes of the hall's occupants.

Then, the envelope burst into flames, its fiery fury devouring the incriminating words it held, leaving behind nothing but a heap of smoldering ashes. Nicolás couldn't help but offer a quiet remark, his voice a comforting whisper amidst the lingering echoes of the Howler's wrath. "Remind me to teach you a charm for that," he suggested, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

Harry's expression bore the weight of guilt, the knowledge of the distress his actions had caused etched upon his face.

Nicolás tenderly stroked his head. "Hey," he said, his voice a soothing reassurance, "there's no use in fretting over it right now. I'll see you at lunch, okay?" Nicolás' gaze held Harry's, and in response, Harry mustered a faint, determined smile, nodding in agreement.

With a swift embrace for Caelum, Nicolás moved toward the Hufflepuff table. There, Cedric, with a friendly smile on his face, had saved him a seat. Nicolás acknowledged him with a nod of gratitude, taking his place at the table.

Amid the breakfast spread, Professor Sprout, the petite and amicable Head of Hufflepuff House, approached with a stack of course schedules. As she handed one to Nicolás, his initial appetite seemed to vanish, replaced by a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. Lockhart, the pompous and flamboyant Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, awaited him as the first class, shared with the Slytherins.

•─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•

"I've never considered myself a violent person. Do you think throwing this useless book on his empty head would make me one?" Nicolás asked in a hushed voice, his gaze still up front.

Dorian, on the next seat, snorted. "I don't really know. The only thing I know is that I can feel my last brain cells giving up."

With a heavy sigh, Nicolás reclined his forehead on the wooden desk.

Yes, he had come into the classroom with not a single expectation. But somehow Lockhart still managed to not only dampen his spirits even more, but also murder a few of his weaker brain cells.

The class started off in a typical fashion, with Lockhart at the helm. However, it didn't take long for his relentless self-absorption to reveal itself.

For the next twenty minutes, the man droned on about his own supposed greatness, offering little in the way of actual instruction. The classroom had become a platform for his self-praise, an exhibition of his endless adoration for himself.

Then, instead of delving into the subject matter or offering any real knowledge, Lockhart distributed tests —on the very first day of class.

At first, Nicolás' instincts led him to believe that this was a measure of their prior knowledge, a way to gauge their abilities. But, as he glanced over the questions, it became painfully clear that this was far from the truth.

The test comprised over fifty questions, all centered around Lockhart's personal life. Questions like "What is Lockhart's favorite color?" and "What does Lockhart want above all?" dominated the paper, further cementing Lockhart's self-obsession.

Nicolás could only gaze at the paper in utter flabbergastment for the first ten minutes. But then, a realization struck him —this test was not worth his time, nor the effort to fabricate answers to such trivial inquiries. So, he chose to abstain.

Lockhart, predictably, attempted to humiliate him for his decision. However, the attempt backfired spectacularly.

Nicolás' disinterest in Lockhart's theatrics led to resounding laughter from his classmates, who clearly relished the spectacle. The small altercation concluded with Nicolás losing ten points for Hufflepuff, but curiously, no one was truly upset with him. In fact, his audacity had provided them with an entertaining diversion.

Everyone took great joy in the enraged and indignant face Lockhart gave when Nicolás answered with a "Who's that guy? A Butler?" when Lockhart asked him about himself.

Then, the heart of the class discussion unfolded: Banshees.

After enduring ten minutes of Lockhart's nonconsequential, nonfactual, and fancifully ridiculous monologue, Nicolás' patience reached its limits, compelling him to raise his hand. Lockhart, perpetually sporting a condescending air, responded with, "Yes, Mr. Cardona?"

"Your facts are amiss, sir. Banshees are not classified as 'Living Dead'; only Zombies and Vampires belong to that category. Banshees are in the category of Spirits."

His words flowed with an attempt to keep his emotions in check, preventing them from spilling over into frustration.

For a moment, Lockhart's facade wavered as he appeared taken aback. A flash of surprise crossed his features before a sarcastically fake smile took its place, treating Nicolás' correction as if it were a nonsensical babble.

"I believe I'm the one who has faced them in combat and authored a book on the subject."

The retort struck Nicolás, making him feel as if he were a child engaged in an argument with a knowledgeable adult who saw him as incapable of grasping the most basic concepts.

Unyielding, Nicolás responded with an undercurrent of tension, "And I believe I'm the only one who has actual knowledge about magical creatures. Not to mention their international classifications."

"Oh, yes?" Lockhart spoke in a condescending tone. "And from whom could a fourth year be getting so much 'knowledge'?"

With his fists tightly clenched, and through gritted teeth, Nicolás responded.

"From the biggest creature researcher of the last centuries, Newt Scamander." As Lockhart gave him a disingenuous smile, Nicolás prompted his speech. "The way you describe these creatures eliminates the respect Newt has spent his life trying to promote. And most of your books are filled with rubbish and self-glory, rather than any kind of real knowledge."

The last part of Nicolás' accusations elicited a large wave of gasps and wide-opened eyes in his direction.

Lockhart's smile widened, bearing the smug satisfaction of a victor. "We wouldn't want to see Hufflepuff losing any more points, would we?" he quipped in an almost serpentine tone.

In the classroom, the raised brows of some students betrayed their skepticism toward the self-proclaimed professor.

A soft, knowing laugh escaped Nicolás as he rose from his seat, reaching for his untouched bag.

"Actually," he began, a trace of resolve in his voice, "I wouldn't want to waste my time in this so-called class." With a brief nod, he departed from the room under the astonished eyes of everyone.

For the remainder of the class, Nicolás sat down the corridor, reading his own copy of Advanced Defence Against the Dark Arts by Galatea Merrythought.

Fifteen minutes later, Dorian and Cedric joined him to walk to their next class. Dorian, wearing the biggest grin on his face, couldn't contain his excitement. "Okay, can we talk about how sublime it was to see you put Lockhart in his place?"

Cedric, on the other hand, was more restrained in his response. "Don't promote this behavior!" he groaned, trying to feign disappointment. Yet, Nicolás saw the boy swallowing his laugh back in the classroom.

"Oh, come on, Ced," he retorted with a wry smile, "that man is nothing but a useless, self-absorbed, peanut-brain."

His sentiments struck a chord with two fellow Hufflepuffs, Aurora and Amara, who approached him to offer their congratulations. These were among the few girls in the class who had not been charmed by Lockhart and were more than pleased to see Nicolás challenging his inflated ego.

As they strolled down the hallways, Dorian couldn't help but voice. "And what are you planning to do for the next class? Are you just going to pretend as if nothing happened?"

Nicolás, with a determined expression, responded decisively, "No, I won't be doing that. I need to have a conversation with Professor Sprout."

Cedric, curious, probed further. "What for?"

Nicolás chose to keep his motivations guarded, revealing just enough to satisfy his friend's curiosity. "I have some matters I need to discuss with Professor Dumbledore."

As they rounded a corner, Nicolás spotted Professor Sprout making her way back to the castle. He hastily bid his companions farewell and went after the professor.

•─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•

As Nicolás exited the Charms classroom, later that day, he took a moment to engage in a hushed conversation with Professor Flitwick, seeking guidance on the matter that weighed heavily on his mind.

After their conversation concluded, he found himself making his way through the corridor, only to be ambushed by the Weasley twins, with whom he just shared class. The moment they spotted him, they swooped in like whirlwinds and each of them, grabbing one of his arms, dragged him into an empty and dimly lit classroom.

"Wow," Nicolás quipped, surveying the surroundings with a playful grin, "I must admit, snogging in a dark room with you two wasn't how I imagined my first day would end."

His lighthearted remark hung in the air, and the twins found themselves momentarily choking on surprise, faces flushed, before scrambling to provide an explanation, they swiftly thrust an old piece of parchment into his hands.

Nicolás accepted the old parchment from the twins, although with a hint of confusion. "Um, thank you, guys, but I already have parchment," he remarked, a slight perplexity in his voice.

With a nostalgic smile, George patted the parchment affectionately. "This, Nicolás, is the secret of our success," he explained.

Fred chimed in, acknowledging the sentimental value it held for them. "It's a wrench to give it to you," he admitted, "but we've decided that being new and all, you might need it more than us."

George added with a warm smile, "besides, we know it off by heart. Consider it a bequest. We don't really need it anymore."

Nicolás couldn't help but wear an expression of genuine bewilderment as he scrutinized the parchment.

"I still don't understand how an old piece of parchment will help me," he confessed, the significance of the gift still eluding him. '

"A piece of old parchment, he says!" Fred exclaimed with mock offense, closing his eyes and cringing as though Nicolás had gravely insulted him. "Explain, George."

"Well," George began, a playful glint in his eye, "when we were mere first-years, Nicolás —young, carefree and innocent —" Nicolás couldn't help but snort, finding it hard to believe that Fred and George themselves had ever truly been innocent.

"— well, more innocent than we are now —" George clarified, "we got into a spot of bother with Filch."

Fred picked up the narrative, "you see, we decided to let off a Dungbomb in the corridor, and for some inexplicable reason, it rather upset him—"

George continued, "so, he hauled us off to his office and started threatening us with the usual —"

"—detention," Fred chimed in.

"—disembowelment," George added dramatically.

"—and we couldn't help but notice a particular drawer in one of his filing cabinets, marked 'Confiscated and Highly Dangerous,'" Fred concluded.

"Let me guess," Nicolás quipped with an amused grin, "you caused disaster to create a diversion."

Fred chuckled as he recalled the escapade. "Exactly. George dropped another Dungbomb for a convincing diversion. Then, I whipped the drawer open and grabbed—this."

George chimed in, seeking to dispel any misconceptions. "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."

Nicolás, intrigued by their cryptic tale, inquired, "So, what exactly does it do?"

A mischievous smirk graced Fred's face as he replied, "Oh, yes, my friend. This little beauty has taught us more than all the teachers in this school."

Nicolás couldn't help but raise an eyebrow, expecting something. "Why do I have the feeling the joke's punchline is coming?"

With a flourish, George retrieved his wand and, ever so delicately, touched the aged parchment. "I solemnly swear that I am up to no good," he said.

And, awakened by the incantation, the parchment responded. Thin ink lines, reminiscent of a spider's delicate silk threads, unfurled and spread from the precise point where George's wand had made contact. They intertwined, weaving a mesmerizing tapestry of intricate patterns that fanned into every nook and cranny of the parchment. Then, as if springing to life, great, curly inky words began to unfurl across the top that proclaimed:

Messrs.

Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot and Prongs

Purveyors of Aids to Magical Mischief-Makers, are proud to present,

THE MARAUDER'S MAP

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