On a normal night, Harry Potter slept like a log, but tonight, he just couldn't seem to settle down. His eyes kept going to the Appleby Arrows calendar on his wall, flipped to August. All thirty-one days were crossed off ... now, there were only a few more hours until the next month, and the start of his new life.

"Harry?"

The door squeaked open. Harry hastily dove under the covers and closed his eyes. He heard his father's footsteps approaching the bed, and kept as still as he could.

"Nice try," said James, sitting down on the bed with a creak of bedsprings. Harry stayed motionless, wondering if his father was just trying to trick him into admitting he was awake. Did he really know?

"Oi," said James, after a minute. He prodded Harry's shoulder. "C'mon, Harry, I want to talk to you."

Reluctantly, Harry extracted himself from the bedclothes and sat up.

"What gave it away?" he asked irritably.

James grinned.

"You've still got your glasses on."

Harry reached up and touched the bridge of his nose. He had.

"You should know better than to try and fool me," said James cheerfully. "I taught you everything you know, and you still haven't learnt everything. Couldn't you sleep?"

Harry shook his head.

"I couldn't either, the night before my first day. But I'm glad you're up. I want to give you something, but I had to wait 'til your mum's not around ... she wouldn't approve."

Immediately, Harry's interest was sparked. Anything that his mother disapproved of was usually exciting.

"What is it?" he asked eagerly. "Dungbombs? Because Sirius already -"

James shook his head, and by way of an answer, reached inside his back pocket and took out a folded piece of faded parchment.

"Parchment?" said Harry, trying not to sound disappointed. "Does it - does it have instructions for tricks on it, or something?"

James snorted. "Don't set your sights so low, son. This is something much better. Watch." He spread the parchment out on the bed, and Harry, who had been expecting something amazing - he wasn't quite sure what - felt the balloon in his stomach burst. It was blank. Invisible ink? he thought desperately. Surely his father wouldn't let him down like this ...

James took out his wand, tapped the parchment, and said, "I solemnly swear that I am up to no good."

It wasn't an unfamiliar phrase to Harry - he'd heard James and his friends, Remus and Sirius, using it randomly many times over the years, usually when they were about to pull some sort of trick. Now, he watched, entranced, as thin lines of ink began to spread out across the map, twisting into each corner; at the same time, large, curly green letters started to form across the top.

"Messrs Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot and Prongs, Purveyors of Aids to Magical Mischief-Makers, are proud to present ... the Marauder's Map," Harry read aloud. "But that's you, Dad! You and Sirius and Remus and - who's Wormtail?"

"An old friend - he moved away before you were born," said James hastily. "But yeah - that's us. And this - this was our greatest friend, Harry. When we were at Hogwarts, we made this map."

"Map?" said Harry, staring back at the parchment. Indeed, names had started to appear on it, names of rooms, he thought - the Great Hall, Entrance Hall, Gryffindor common room - and so had hundreds and hundreds of tiny ink dots, each accompanied by an even tinier name.

"Professor Dumbledore!" he exclaimed, spotting the dot moving across the room labelled as the Headmaster's study. "And - and Filch! And Professor McGonagall and - who's Severus Snape? Is he a teacher?"

"No, he's a git," said James. "Anyway - you can guess what it does. With this, you'll be able to sneak around school whenever you like without running across any teachers or prefects. Handy, eh?"

"You're - you're giving it to me?"

"No, I thought I'd just show it to you and then snatch it from under your nose," said James sarcastically. "Of course I'm giving it to you, idiot. It's yours now."

"Mine?"

Harry beamed up at his father, feeling like he had just won a million Galleons. His father's very own tool for mischief - and he was giving it to Harry!

"Make good use of it," said James, winking. "I don't want to get any letters from McGonagall telling us you've been a very good student, so watch it."

"I will," Harry promised, grinning. He glanced back at the map. "So how do I clear it?"

James tapped the parchment with his wand again, and said, "Mischief managed!"

"Mischief managed," Harry recited. "Right. Got it. Thanks, Dad!"

"Don't mention it," said James. His face grew serious. "Really, don't. Especially not in front of Mum. She'll -"

"Hex you," said Harry's mother's voice. "Into next year, I should think."

Horrified, Harry and James both turned around, to see Lily Potter leaning against the doorframe, arms folded, looking - or was it Harry's imagination? - faintly amused.

"I saw your lamp," she said, raising an eyebrow. "Harry, it's late, and you've got a big day tomorrow - you should be asleep. And James, after fourteen years, I really shouldn't be having to say this any more, but -"

"I should know better," James finished, pretending to look ashamed. "I know. Sorry, Lily. But it's a family tradition -"

"You made that wretched map!"

"It will be a family tradition, then," said James smoothly. "Harry'll pass it down to his kids, won't you, son?"

"Definitely," said Harry.

Lily rolled her eyes. "Well, I suppose I can't stop you. If you're anything like your father, Harry, you'll probably enjoy detention. Bed time now, though - yes, you too, James."

"Wait," said Harry, as his dad stood up and made towards the door. "Could I - could you two - tell me something else about Hogwarts? From when you were there?"

He knew that at eleven, he was far too old for a story, but he felt like he needed one tonight. Reassurance, that he would have fun there, and make friends, and that whatever house he was in, it wouldn't matter (although he knew he and his father were both crossing their fingers for Gryffindor).

Lily and James exchanged looks, but both came over and perched on the end of his bed. After a moment's thought, James cleared his throat.

"There was once a wizard - an extremely handsome, talented, funny wizard," he began, "who, one day, noticed a witch in his class. She had long red hair, and green eyes, and she could do a better Jelly-Legs Jinx than anyone he had ever met before ..."

OK. Let's just pretend, for the purpose of this, that Voldemort never existed, that there are no plot issues with this, and that Wormtail decided to leave the country for no reason because I don't want him anywhere near my story. Yes?

So I opened up a document like half an hour ago and this just ... came out ... this will be my last thing for a while, though, because I'm starting my OWLs next week and feeling the stress. ;)

After the 15th June, though, I have twelve weeks off and I already have seven pages of my new mega-story, Featuring Ron Weasley (working title) written! So keep your eyes peeled!