Harry had fallen asleep with the quill in his hand in mid-sentence while writing in the red journal. Severus came into his son's room to check on him just before bed and discovered that fact. The Potions Master carefully removed the blue quill from his son's hand and gently closed the journal and set them upon Harry's nightstand. He wondered what had happened to cause the boy to come back from Gryffindor Tower in such a foul mood that it required him to write about it in his journal, something he used to do only when he had flashbacks from his childhood that he couldn't speak about any other way.

Guess I'll ask him about it tomorrow. It's Saturday, he can lie in a bit and then maybe he'll be willing to discuss whatever it is with me, mused Snape as he removed his son's trainers and waved his hand over the sleeping teenager, transfiguring his clothes to a set of pajamas. Then he picked up Harry and slid him under the covers, since it was chill in the dungeons, even with the heat wards Severus conjured.

The boy muttered restlessly in his sleep and Severus patted his back and murmured, "Hush, son. Go to sleep." The words and gesture were automatic, he'd performed them thousands of times when Harry was a baby, and he often fell back into those patterns when he put his son to bed.

Harry smiled a little and snuggled down into his pillow and Severus left a single sliver of light atop the nightstand, in case Harry woke during the night and needed to find his glasses to use the bathroom.

Rosie padded into the room and jumped onto the bed, curling into a ball inbetween Harry's feet.

"Good girl," Severus praised, stroking the dog before departing the room. "Sleep well."

The little beagle watched the Potions Master exit the room before she closed her eyes and fell asleep as well.

• * * * * *

Harry was feeling particularly uncommunicative the next morning, telling Severus only that he'd quarreled with Ron and then shutting up tightly as a clam. Severus knew better than to pry, Harry could be as stubborn and close-mouthed as himself when he wished to be, and he didn't want to antagonize his son further. He felt certain that when Harry was ready, he would share his problems with Severus.

The two ate breakfast, then Harry went back into his room to write Neil, sending the letter off with Hedwig about fifteen minutes later. That done, he told his father he was going for a walk with Rosie and left the apartment. He took the eager beagle around the lake, letting Rosie run as much as she wanted, throwing sticks for her to catch.

Harry laughed whenever she jumped in the air to catch one, her ears flopped about like a pair of demented wings and it was funny. But she was an ace at fetching, always returning with the stick in her mouth.

He played with the dog for over twenty minutes, wondering indignantly how Ron could be so dumb as to accuse the happy-go-lucky beagle of eating Scabbers. Rosie wouldn't hurt a fly, even if she didn't really like the rat all that much. No, something else had happened to cause Scabbers to vanish. If only Harry knew what it was. Then maybe Ron would quit freaking out and listen to reason. But until then, Harry wasn't going to speak to him.

He sighed, sitting down with his head resting on his knees. Typical of Ron, to be so bloody impulsive and blow everything out of proportion. I mean, how could he declare the rat irrevocably dead when there was no body? Harry thought irritably. Didn't he ever read any mysteries as a kid? You never assume someone's really dead until you see their corpse.

Perhaps Scabbers had gotten into a bit of a brawl with Crookshanks or whatever and gotten bitten, bled all over the sheet and then ran away before Ron came upstairs. Maybe when Ron had opened the door of the dorm, the rat had slipped by unnoticed and run away. That made a hell of a lot more sense then Rosie eating rat ‘a la king!

Harry was so engrossed in figuring out what other means Scabbers might have met his demise that he didn't hear the Headmaster come up to him until the man coughed lightly.

"Ahem! Enjoying your weekend, Harry?"

"Uh . . .oh, er, hi Professor Dumbledore," sputtered Harry. "I didn't see you coming."

"Deep in thought, were you?" the Headmaster asked, his blue eyes twinkling. In his hands was a package.

"Yeah, I guess you could say that."

"Good. I was cleaning out my office yesterday and I came across something that belongs to you, Harry. I had put it away for safekeeping and had quite forgotten I had it until now."

Harry looked up at the white-bearded old wizard in puzzlement. "Something of mine, sir?"

"Yes, though you didn't give it to me," continued Dumbledore. He held out the package.

Harry took it, frowning at it cautiously. Last time he'd gotten a package at Hogwarts it had changed his life forever. But he couldn't refuse to accept Dumbledore's mysterious gift and so he carefully unwrapped the paper and discovered a familiar item in side, one he'd thought lost forever.

"My invisibility cloak! But how did you get it, sir? It was taken from me when the Death Eaters . . .when they, uh, kidnapped me."

"Yes, but an old acquaintance of mine came across it and offered to sell it to me. He didn't know it was yours, and he's always desperate for money. So I bought it off him and put it away for safekeeping. I would have returned it to you after you came out of the Hospital Wing, but you left before I could."

"Thanks, Professor," Harry said sincerely. "Uh, who was the guy you bought this from?"

"Ah, his identity must remain a secret, I'm afraid," Dumbledore told him regretfully. "But the cloak is now back in its rightful owner's hands. Use it wisely and well, my child."

"I will, Professor." Harry hugged the cloak to him. The invisibility cloak was like an old friend, it had helped him out of many tight spots and it was one of the few things Harry had from his stepdad James. He had been very depressed when he realized that it had gone missing and wishing he wasn't the bloody Boy Who Lived, who lived half of his life under the glare of news photographers. "Thank you, sir."

"No need to thank me, Harry. I'm always here to help." The old wizard eyed Harry knowingly. "I realize this has been a difficult term for you, my boy, what with Black on the loose and your magic maturing. But you must not lose hope. All will be well. I have checked it for all of the curses and jinxes I know and it is clean." Then the old wizard sighed and excused himself, returning to the castle by way of the greenhouse path.

Harry watched him go, one hand stroking the soft ultralight cloth gently. He was profoundly relieved to have the cloak back yet a part of him-the insatiably curious part that usually got him into trouble, much like his beagle-wondered just who the mysterious person was who had sold Dumbledore the cloak. Then he shrugged and supposed it really didn't matter much. The cloak, one of the few things he had from James Potter, was back in his possession. He rewrapped it and set it down next to him. He wouldn't mention this new development to his father just yet, for he feared Severus might demand to keep the cloak so Harry wouldn't be tempted to use it, he knew Snape had never approved of Dumbledore giving him the cloak in the first place. Nor did Harry want to be made to give a promise not to use the cloak which he might be forced to break one day. He regretted keeping secrets from his father, but right now it was best if Severus not realize his son had possession of this valuable magical item again.

He rose and put the cloak back in his room, still wrapped up, in the bottom of his trunk. Severus had never invaded his privacy, but he was taking no chances. Then he quickly dressed in his Quidditch uniform for practice, there was a Gryffindor vs. Slytherin game coming up next Saturday, and Wood was determined to beat the Slytherins good. Harry wondered if that would put Severus in a quandary, who should he root for-his House or his son?

• * * * * * *

After practice, which went well, since Harry on his Meteor was blazingly quick, and caught the Snitch within thirty minutes of play the first time, Harry went over to Fred and George, who seemed to be smirking over a rolled up piece of parchment. Their latest gag, no doubt, Harry thought as he made his way over to them.

"Er . . .hi, guys."

"Hello, Harry," they replied, nearly in the same breath. Harry often wondered if they could read each other's thoughts.

Harry coughed and said softly, "So . . .is Ron still mad at me for, uh, you know . . .?"

"Yup." They sighed. "He's still pretty bent out of shape over Scabbers. We tried to tell him that Scabbers was old for a rat-" began Fred, at least Harry thought it was Fred.

"-very old, he was Percy's before he was Ron's, y'know, and twelve's old for one of them, most rats don't even make it to ten. I think he went off to die alone somewhere. Sometimes animals do that," said George.

"But Ron, he still thinks it was your beagle that did Scabbers," Fred rolled his eyes. "Stubborn little twit! Says he's not going to talk to you until you apologize and admit you were wrong, Harry."

Harry bristled. "I'm not apologizing for anything, George. Ron's got no evidence it was Rosie who killed Scabbers, if he's even dead. It could, and probably was, Crookshanks that attacked him, cats eat mice."

"Don't let Hermione hear you," chuckled George.

"She already has," sighed the Gryffindor Seeker. "She's mad at me too, I guess. But really, it makes more sense that a cat killed a rat than Rosie, the cat would've had time enough to drag Scabber's body away or . . .er. . .eat it before Ron came in and noticed. But Rosie was in the room shortly after Ron and she would've had to catch Scabbers first in order to bite him and Ron would've definitely noticed that."

"You're right, Harry," agreed the twins. "But Ron's not being logical, he's too upset. We'll talk to him again. Hopefully he'll listen this time, or else we're gonna give him elephant ears. Either that or a smack upside the head."

Harry concealed a grin at that last threat, sometimes Ron was too stubborn for his own good.

"Anyhow," continued Fred. "We thought you might be interested in this, Harry." He beckoned the younger wizard off to a secluded area of the pitch, near a small overhang.

Harry followed, uneasy. Usually when the twins offered you something, it was best not to take it, or to be very cautious about accepting it, for it was bound to have some kind of unexpected effect upon you. "What is it? Your latest test product?"

The twins had a dream of opening up their own joke shop someday-if they could ever get the financial backing from a sponsor to do so.

"Oh no, it's even better than anything we've come up with," laughed George. He carefully unrolled a rather worn piece of parchment. "This, Harry, is the secret to our success."

Harry peered at it. It looked like an ordinary piece of parchment. "I don't get it. What's so special about a spare piece of parchment?"

Fred smirked devilishly. "Ah, but that's not at all it is. Watch." He drew his wand and tapped the parchment, saying, "I solemnly swear that I am up to no good."

To Harry's amazement, the parchment rippled and words now appeared on it, in fancy script. "The Marauders Map, as written by Mssrs. Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot and Prongs." He gaped in astonishment. "But that's-I mean, do you know who they were?"

"Students who used attend Hogwarts long before our time," shrugged Fred. "But we're very grateful to them-"

"-for inventing this little piece of mischief," George gently unfolded the map and showed Harry how it was a detailed plan of the whole castle and Hogwarts grounds.

It showed every floor and room of the castle, Hagid's hut, the Black Lake, the Willow and some of Hogsmeade as well. But the most astonishing thing about the map was the small dots that moved all over the parchment. They were labled, each with a name and Harry gaped like a half-wit. There was McGonagall, pacing in the teacher's lounge, Filch roaming the corridors along with Mrs. Norris, Poppy in her infirmary, he even saw his dad, the dot labeled Severus Snape was still in the Potion Master's quarters.

"This is-why it's simply amazing !"

"Isn't it? We discovered this little gem in first year, when Filch caught us lighting off some crackers and a Dungbomb and hauled our bums down to his office for a talking to. We got bored after awhile listening to him say how he'd like to torture us, so Fred caused a distraction and I reached into his drawer of confiscated items and nicked this. It's saved our hide many a time."

"I'll bet." Harry examined the map more closely. Any map bearing the Marauders signature was sure to contain something dodgy and secretive. "Hey, some of these are secret passages."

"Uh huh," Fred's eyes sparkled wickedly. "Filch knows about four of ‘em, but not these others. One of them we can't use, it's right under the Whomping Willow. This one up here's caved in. But this one leads straight into Hogsmeade, right into the cellar of Honeydukes. That's one we use a lot. And this other one, which pops out pretty near the Apothecary, is also good." He clapped Harry on the shoulder. "We figured you could use this, Harry, if you were ever in a tight spot or something."

"Like ducking detention with your dad or whatnot."

"Or bored and wanting to prowl unseen."

"Thanks, but why give it to me? Why not Ron? Or keep it yourselves?"

George waved a hand. "We don't need it anymore, kid. We know it by heart. It's time to pass on the legacy. We were going to give it to our little brother, but Ron's being such a little idiot, we decided he doesn't deserve it and so we're giving it to you, Harry. Use it well!"

He gave Harry the parchment.

"One other thing," warned Fred. "Once you've done with it, make sure you tap it again and say Mischief managed! Otherwise anyone can read it." He demonstrated and the map returned to a blank parchment. "Got all that, Mr. Snape?"

"Got it. Thanks!" Harry tucked the map into a pocket. He had a feeling the map might come in very handy someday, like the cloak, and he would be careful not to lose it. Or let his father see it activated, otherwise he knew Severus would ask tons of questions and then end up confiscating it as well as being too much of a temptation for Harry to break the rules. He'd be right, of course.

"See you around, Harry!" waved the twins. "Don't worry about Ronnie, we'll straighten his arse out. Just like our mum."

Harry waved a hand in farewell, then headed back inside the school to shower and change and eat lunch. Wonder what they'll do to him? Take a spoon to his behind? Make him be a test subject for their new joke products? I'd feel sorry for him, but after the way he told me to leave and all, he deserves whatever the twins dish out and then some!