Marauder's Never Tell
Yay! Here be fic!
Title: Marauder’s Never Tell
Author: mithborien
Rating: G
Summary: The Marauders are only inked on outlines, parchment easily burns and nothing lasts forever.
Word count: 761 (unbeta’d)
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters, settings and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
Notes: I’m sorry. I know this is a lousy birthday present for Remus but the idea came to me a couple of days ago and it sort of morphed into focusing on Remus. I’m so sorry, Moony!
~
The Map was pure genius, or so they thought.
The crowning achievement of their schooldays, a lasting symbol of the Marauders and all the pranks they stood for, a legacy of four boys and their everlasting mischief. It was their secret place, their hideaway and their Never Never Land (or so Moony tried to explain), a place where they could be themselves without fear of repercussions or detentions. And they knew that no matter how bad the world was or how horrific things seemed there would always be a sanctum to be found within those inked on walls.
They put themselves into the map for that reason, to keep themselves alive and their memories safe. They put their hopes, dreams and mischief deep with the folds so that a semblance of each of them resided within the Map for evermore.
And so Messrs. Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot and Prongs were born.
It was brilliant. They thought themselves immortal, helping generation after generation of mischief makers commit the ultimate crimes against authority. They never thought they could be broken, in reality or fantasy.
Time passes weirdly in the Map, in spurts and long strides. When someone used it, they never seemed to have enough time. A brief glimpse of the outside world that yielded nothing no more information than whatever joke was about to unfold. But the Marauders didn’t mind, they were Pranksters and the only world they cared about was the one of mischief making. But even they were smart enough to know that something was wrong through the thick shield of parchment.
And that’s when a new name appeared on the Map.
Messrs. Prongs was the first to meet him.
And who do you think you are? he thundered. Trespassing in these glorious halls. Are you on a prank?
The new person just smiled. Of sorts, he said and Messrs. Prongs disappeared in a smudge of ink, winking out of existence with a shocked look on his face.
Messrs Padfoot was next, saw his brother-in-arms go down and raced forward to help but he too drained away into nothing when the new person turned burning eyes his direction.
Messrs Wormtail didn’t fight it because the boy who put him here recognised the name floating above this new person and knew he was doomed from the start.
Only Messrs Moony remained, cautious and scared and backed up against a wall of words.
Tom Riddle stepped forward, his words spreading out across the Map like tendrils of Devil’s Snare.
This is quite a work of art, Tom said. How does it work?
Messrs Moony didn’t answer because Marauders never tell and he was smart enough to realise that Remus Lupin was in just as much trouble as he was.
How does this work? Tom asked again, his words getting sharper and glowing around the edges. TELL ME!
Messrs Moony still didn’t answer.
The outline of Tom’s body seemed to fold in on itself. Fine, he sighed. Have it your way. Let’s hope your counterpart is more complying.
Messrs Moony didn’t move as Tom disappeared and he felt the edges of the Map blister and curl, a wave of blackness and fire closing in on him. He alone out of the four Marauders always knew this day would come, that they couldn’t escape punishment forever.
Mischief managed.
Remus watched the Map burn up with dry eyes, he had said goodbye to his childhood, to his friends a long time ago. Seeing the Map destroyed sparked nothing more in him besides a brief regret at a fine tool of mischief wasting away.
“Now Remus,” Voldemort crooned as he twisted Remus’s head away from the growing ash of the Map. “You see how easy it is for me to destroy you. How easy it was for me to erase your friends out of existence.”
Remus didn’t say a word.
Voldemort crouched down beside him, pulling his bindings just that little bit tighter to make Remus wince. “I need to know those spells,” he whispered. “Your friends were quite brilliant in their own pathetic way but I know it was you who actually made the Map functional.”
Marauders never tell.
“I need to know those spells,” Voldemort continued. “I need to know how the Map worked.”
Remus gritted his teeth and smiled, turning his head to stare into those glowing eyes. Some things could not be broken and he made sure that everyone in the room could hear him.
“Messrs. Moony, Padfoot and Prongs would like to tell you to go to Hell.”
He would never tell.
~
Title: Marauder’s Never Tell
Author: mithborien
Rating: G
Summary: The Marauders are only inked on outlines, parchment easily burns and nothing lasts forever.
Word count: 761 (unbeta’d)
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters, settings and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
Notes: I’m sorry. I know this is a lousy birthday present for Remus but the idea came to me a couple of days ago and it sort of morphed into focusing on Remus. I’m so sorry, Moony!
~
The Map was pure genius, or so they thought.
The crowning achievement of their schooldays, a lasting symbol of the Marauders and all the pranks they stood for, a legacy of four boys and their everlasting mischief. It was their secret place, their hideaway and their Never Never Land (or so Moony tried to explain), a place where they could be themselves without fear of repercussions or detentions. And they knew that no matter how bad the world was or how horrific things seemed there would always be a sanctum to be found within those inked on walls.
They put themselves into the map for that reason, to keep themselves alive and their memories safe. They put their hopes, dreams and mischief deep with the folds so that a semblance of each of them resided within the Map for evermore.
And so Messrs. Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot and Prongs were born.
It was brilliant. They thought themselves immortal, helping generation after generation of mischief makers commit the ultimate crimes against authority. They never thought they could be broken, in reality or fantasy.
Time passes weirdly in the Map, in spurts and long strides. When someone used it, they never seemed to have enough time. A brief glimpse of the outside world that yielded nothing no more information than whatever joke was about to unfold. But the Marauders didn’t mind, they were Pranksters and the only world they cared about was the one of mischief making. But even they were smart enough to know that something was wrong through the thick shield of parchment.
And that’s when a new name appeared on the Map.
Messrs. Prongs was the first to meet him.
And who do you think you are? he thundered. Trespassing in these glorious halls. Are you on a prank?
The new person just smiled. Of sorts, he said and Messrs. Prongs disappeared in a smudge of ink, winking out of existence with a shocked look on his face.
Messrs Padfoot was next, saw his brother-in-arms go down and raced forward to help but he too drained away into nothing when the new person turned burning eyes his direction.
Messrs Wormtail didn’t fight it because the boy who put him here recognised the name floating above this new person and knew he was doomed from the start.
Only Messrs Moony remained, cautious and scared and backed up against a wall of words.
Tom Riddle stepped forward, his words spreading out across the Map like tendrils of Devil’s Snare.
This is quite a work of art, Tom said. How does it work?
Messrs Moony didn’t answer because Marauders never tell and he was smart enough to realise that Remus Lupin was in just as much trouble as he was.
How does this work? Tom asked again, his words getting sharper and glowing around the edges. TELL ME!
Messrs Moony still didn’t answer.
The outline of Tom’s body seemed to fold in on itself. Fine, he sighed. Have it your way. Let’s hope your counterpart is more complying.
Messrs Moony didn’t move as Tom disappeared and he felt the edges of the Map blister and curl, a wave of blackness and fire closing in on him. He alone out of the four Marauders always knew this day would come, that they couldn’t escape punishment forever.
Mischief managed.
Remus watched the Map burn up with dry eyes, he had said goodbye to his childhood, to his friends a long time ago. Seeing the Map destroyed sparked nothing more in him besides a brief regret at a fine tool of mischief wasting away.
“Now Remus,” Voldemort crooned as he twisted Remus’s head away from the growing ash of the Map. “You see how easy it is for me to destroy you. How easy it was for me to erase your friends out of existence.”
Remus didn’t say a word.
Voldemort crouched down beside him, pulling his bindings just that little bit tighter to make Remus wince. “I need to know those spells,” he whispered. “Your friends were quite brilliant in their own pathetic way but I know it was you who actually made the Map functional.”
Marauders never tell.
“I need to know those spells,” Voldemort continued. “I need to know how the Map worked.”
Remus gritted his teeth and smiled, turning his head to stare into those glowing eyes. Some things could not be broken and he made sure that everyone in the room could hear him.
“Messrs. Moony, Padfoot and Prongs would like to tell you to go to Hell.”
He would never tell.
~