Chapter 22

Neville Longbottom was dead asleep in his dormitory, dreaming of enchanted forests and the magic of nature. He was so deep in dreamland that he didn't notice his fingers idly brushing against the potted Fluxweed at his bedside. 

This wasn't just any Fluxweed, mind you. It was practically on a growth spurt. Under Neville's unconscious influence, the plant began to glow with a warm, green light that seemed to pulse in sync with his breathing. If Neville had been awake, he might have thought it was some sort of magic trick gone awry—or maybe just a sign that he really needed to clean his room.

Nearby, Ron Weasley was snoring away in his bed. Ron was the kind of guy who could sleep through a dragon attack, or at least the magical equivalent of one. His bed was strewn with socks, snack wrappers, and the occasional Quidditch magazine. He was the very picture of lazy comfort, occasionally grumbling about the mess he'd clean later—or more likely, never.

As Neville's latent mutant abilities began to reveal themselves, the Fluxweed in his room was stretching and flourishing with a ferocity that would make any herbologist proud. The room was transforming into a mini jungle, and even the other plants were responding to Neville's newfound magical mojo.

The transformation didn't exactly go unnoticed. Ron, groggy from sleep, was the first to blink awake and see what looked like a magical version of the Amazon rainforest taking over their dormitory. His first thought was to bury his face in his pillow and hope it was just a particularly weird dream. 

"Blimey, Neville, did you just turn our room into a jungle?" Ron mumbled, rubbing his eyes and sitting up. 

Neville, still half-asleep, blinked in confusion at the verdant explosion around him. "I—I didn't do this on purpose. I was just dreaming. This is a bit... a lot more than I expected."

Ron, ever the loyal sidekick, wasn't going to let a little thing like a magically overgrown dormitory ruin his day. "Well, at least it's not another giant spider. I suppose it could be worse." He squinted at the now-impressive Fluxweed. "And if this is your idea of a wake-up call, mate, then I'm impressed."

As the day dawned and the room continued to look like something out of a magical garden catalogue, Neville's roommates began to stir. They were greeted by the sight of Neville's bedposts wrapped in green tendrils, flowers blooming in the air, and an almost mystical aroma filling the room. 

As Neville reached out to touch the glowing Fluxweed, it lit up even brighter, as if acknowledging the bravery and potential hidden within him. Ron, who was now more or less awake, stared in awe.

"Blimey, Neville," Ron said with a grin, "if this is what happens when you dream, I'm never waking you up. Just, please, no more magical jungle gyms."

Neville managed a shaky smile, his confusion giving way to a growing sense of wonder. His room had transformed into a testament to his hidden potential, a magical manifestation of his bravery and growth. He was finally realizing that maybe, just maybe, there was more to him than the clumsy, shy student everyone saw.

—

Neville and Ron burst into the Gryffindor common room like they'd just run a marathon—probably because they had. Their faces were flushed with that particular mix of excitement and mild panic that usually only happens when your life takes a sudden turn for the extraordinary. Harry and Jean, fresh from their tête-à-tête with Dumbledore, looked up from their spot by the fire. Hermione, buried in a chaotic pile of books, looked up with that mix of curiosity and impatience that she usually reserved for unexplained mysteries and missing house-elves.

"Neville! Ron! What's going on?" Harry asked, eyeing their breathless state with concern.

Ron, looking like he'd just sprinted through a Quidditch match, managed to gasp out, "Neville's plant—it's gone completely bonkers!"

Neville, looking a bit sheepish but also thrilled, added, "I was asleep, and when I woke up, the Fluxweed was glowing and growing like mad. I've never seen anything like it."

Jean's eyebrows shot up. "A glowing, rapidly growing plant? That's not your average herbological phenomenon."

Hermione, always the detective in her own story, snapped her book shut. "Fluxweed doesn't do that. There must be some other factor involved."

She put on her thinking cap, which, in this case, seemed to involve connecting a few important dots. "If the plant's reacting like this, it could mean your mutation's been triggered, Neville."

Harry's eyes widened. "So, Neville, you're telling us you're one of us now?"

Jean stepped closer, flashing a warm, encouraging grin. "Welcome to the mutant club, Neville. It's a wild ride, full of surprises and, well, occasional chaos. But it can be pretty amazing."

Neville blinked, still processing. "You mean... I'm a mutant too?"

Ron, suddenly struck by a bolt of memory, looked like he'd just solved a great riddle. "Blimey, Neville! Remember what Professor Trelawney said in Divination yesterday?"

Neville looked as confused as a Niffler in a jewelry store. "She says a lot of things, Ron. What's the relevance?"

Ron grinned, clearly proud of his deductive prowess. "She predicted something big was going to happen to you, something life-changing. I thought it was just her usual vague mumbo-jumbo, but maybe she was onto something this time."

Neville's eyes widened. "I thought she was just talking about me finding Trevor again or something."

Hermione nodded, her analytical brain working at full speed. "We've been speculating about the possibility of you having the X-gene since yesterday. Remember?"

Neville shifted uncomfortably, looking a bit self-conscious. "Yeah, but I didn't really think it could happen to me. I mean, I've always been the clumsy, forgetful one."

Harry put a reassuring hand on Neville's shoulder. "Neville, you've always been special. Sometimes it just takes a while for everyone else to catch up."

Jean smiled warmly. "Everyone's got their own unique abilities. Yours just decided to make a grand entrance."

Ron, ever the enthusiastic sidekick, chimed in. "And now you've got this amazing ability. Think of all the plants you can help grow and all the good you can do!"

Neville's smile grew, bolstered by the support of his friends. "I guess I never looked at it that way. Thanks, everyone."

Hermione gave him a gentle, encouraging smile. "You're going to do great things, Neville. And we're all here to help you figure it out."

With his friends rallying around him, Neville felt a new sense of possibility. What once seemed like a distant dream now felt like it was within reach, filling him with both awe and determination.

Hermione turned to Harry and Jean, her curiosity piqued. "So, how did your meeting with Professor Dumbledore go? Did you find a place for the new mutants to practice their powers?"

Harry's face lit up. "Yes, we did. Dumbledore showed us the 'Come and Go' Room. It appears when you need it and turns into whatever you require. It's perfect for practicing our abilities without drawing attention."

Jean added, "It's got training dummies, magical targets, and all sorts of cool stuff. It's going to be an awesome place to explore and hone our powers."

Hermione's face brightened with excitement. "That's brilliant! Hogwarts really does have everything. I'm so glad Dumbledore is so supportive."

Neville's smile widened. "That sounds incredible. I can't wait to see it."

Ron, grinning like he'd just won a major victory, nudged Neville playfully. "Looks like we're in for some epic times ahead."

Harry turned to Jean with a thoughtful look. "If only we had something like a magical version of 'Cerebro' to help find the mutants within Hogwarts."

Hermione looked intrigued. "What's 'Cerebro'?"

Jean explained, "Cerebro is a device used by Professor Xavier, a powerful telepath, to locate mutants around the world. It amplifies his abilities, letting him find and connect with mutants."

Hermione's eyes widened with interest. "That sounds amazing! Imagine having something like that here. We could find and help so many students."

Harry nodded. "Exactly. It would make things a lot easier. But for now, we'll have to rely on word of mouth and observation."

Jean smiled thoughtfully. "We'll manage. Hogwarts has its own kind of magic that seems to bring people together when they need it most."

Neville, buoyed by the day's revelations and his friends' support, added with newfound confidence, "And with all of us working together, we'll make sure everyone gets the help they need."

Ron chuckled, a spark of mischief in his eyes. "Looks like we're in for quite the adventure. Just like always."

As they stood together, a sense of shared purpose settled over them. In this ancient castle brimming with secrets and magic, they felt the weight of their own potential and the thrilling, unpredictable journey that lay ahead.

—

Here's the rewritten passage that incorporates Hermione's crush on Harry, Neville's traits as a brave but sometimes clumsy student, and Ron's loyalty and occasional jealousy, all in a style inspired by Rick Riordan.

---

The next day dawned with the first slivers of sunlight painting the ancient stone walls of Hogwarts a soft gold. Harry, Hermione, and Jean were walking together toward the Great Hall, with the scent of toast and bacon leading them onward like a siren's call. It was a beautiful morning, which made it all the more painful that they were on their way to classes instead of lounging around outside. Hermione and Jean were whispering to each other, their heads close together, as they concocted yet another brilliant plan.

"I've been thinking," Hermione said, her eyes sparkling with excitement that Harry couldn't help but notice. Lately, he'd started noticing a lot of things about Hermione that he hadn't before. But he was trying very hard not to think about that, because Jean was right there, and she had an amazing smile. "After our chat, Jean and I realized that the 'Come and Go' room seems more like the 'Room of Requirement' from the stories."

Jean nodded, her expression thoughtful. "Exactly. If we ask the room for a place to help us find other mutants within the castle, it might respond to our needs."

Harry's eyes lit up with excitement, partly because of the idea and partly because Jean was right there next to him, her shoulder almost touching his. "That's brilliant! 'Room of Requirement' does have a certain ring to it. Let's test that theory after classes."

As they entered the Great Hall, the warm, welcoming atmosphere was a stark contrast to the sight of Ron and Neville at the Gryffindor table. Ron looked like he'd just swallowed a Filibuster's Firework, and Neville was nervously fiddling with his fork, probably about to drop it into the pumpkin juice.

"What's up with you two?" Harry asked, a note of concern in his voice as he slid into the seat across from them.

Ron groaned, slumping forward with his face buried in his arms on the table. "First class of the day is Potions with Snape."

Neville nodded, his face paler than usual. "It's always a disaster. I just know something's going to go wrong."

Hermione tried to reassure them, putting on her best comforting smile, even though she was feeling a little distracted by the way Harry's hair was messier than usual. "Don't worry, we'll get through it together. Besides, we have something to look forward to after classes."

Harry grinned, trying to lift the mood. "Yeah, the Room of Requirement might be just what we need. Think about that instead."

Ron managed a weak smile. "I'll try. But you know Snape…" His voice trailed off as he imagined the professor's sneering face.

Jean leaned in closer, her voice soft and reassuring. "We'll be right there with you. And who knows? Maybe today will be different."

Neville took a deep breath, his grip tightening around his wand. Despite his reputation for being clumsy and forgetful, Neville was the bravest student Harry knew. He wasn't about to let Snape or anyone else make him feel small. "Thanks, everyone. Let's just get through this and focus on the Room of Requirement."

Ron glanced at Harry, his curiosity mingled with admiration. "How are you so calm? Snape picks on you the most."

Harry shrugged, grinning. "I've been getting extra help with Potions from Andromeda Tonks. Plus, I've been helping Susan and Jean catch up, so I've had a lot of practice. Besides, what's the point of having these powers if I'm going to lose my nerve every time Snape gives me a hard time?"

Ron chuckled, the tension easing as he shook his head. "Yeah, guess you're right. We just need to stick together."

Hermione, watching Harry and Jean share a smile, felt a mix of emotions. She knew there was something between them, but she couldn't help the little pang of jealousy. Still, she was their friend, and that meant supporting them no matter what. After all, that's what made them Gryffindors—standing by each other through thick and thin, even if it meant putting aside her own feelings.

---

At that moment, Ginny, Fred, and George entered the hall, their red hair catching the light like flickering flames. They sauntered over to the group, grins brightening their faces like they were about to unveil a new prank. 

"Morning, everyone," Ginny said, her voice as cheerful as a canary on a spring morning. "Are you planning to practice for the Quidditch tryouts today?"

Harry's eyes lit up at the mention of Quidditch, the one thing guaranteed to make any day better. "Definitely. It's always a good idea to get some practice in before tryouts."

Fred smirked, a glint of mischief in his eyes that promised nothing good for anyone but the twins. "Always wise to stay sharp. Never know when a Bludger might come your way."

"Or a Slytherin's flying broom might, er, 'accidentally' go haywire," George added, finishing Fred's thought. They exchanged a look of pure mischief. Fred and George Weasley were so synchronized they could have given synchronized swimmers a run for their money.

Harry chuckled, knowing full well that the twins' idea of 'protection' for their siblings and friends involved a lot of mayhem. "Absolutely. But we've got something else to do after classes. You're all welcome to join us. Once that's done, we can head to the pitch."

Ginny's curiosity was piqued, and she leaned in, her eyes twinkling. "What's this something else?"

Hermione leaned in slightly, her voice tinged with excitement. She was thrilled to be sharing this theory with everyone, especially if it meant spending more time with Harry. "We're testing a theory about the Room of Requirement. We think it might help us find other mutants at Hogwarts."

Fred and George exchanged another look, this time with a hint of intrigue. "Count us in," Fred said with a grin. "Anything to avoid more homework."

"And if it helps find other mutants, all the better," George finished.

Ron, who had been lazily poking at his breakfast, perked up. "Sounds like a plan. Let's survive Potions, then we can get on with the fun stuff."

Neville, sitting next to Ron and trying not to spill his pumpkin juice, nodded. Despite his reputation for being clumsy and forgetful, Neville had a quiet determination that often surprised people. He might have lost his toad, Trevor, for the tenth time this week, but he was ready to face anything for his friends. "Yeah, let's do that. It's exciting to think we might find other people like us."

As they finished their breakfast, the group felt a shared sense of purpose. The promise of Quidditch practice and the mystery of the Room of Requirement loomed ahead, adding a spark of excitement to the day. In this ancient, magical castle, where secrets whispered through the corridors and the shadows seemed to dance with possibilities, they were ready to face whatever challenges awaited—together.

With a shared sense of purpose and excitement, they headed off to face the day's challenges, ready for anything Hogwarts—and Snape—might throw at them.

---

Here's the rewritten passage styled after Rick Riordan's writing:

---

The dungeon was the kind of place where shadows didn't just hang around—they practically whispered conspiracies and secret potions recipes to anyone who dared enter. The bell tolled, sounding like the clock from some old gothic horror movie. Harry, Hermione, and Jean took their seats. Ron plopped down next to Harry with a look that said, "Why am I here again?" as if he'd forgotten the delights of Potions class over the summer break.

Cue the dramatic entrance of Professor Snape. The guy practically materialized out of the dungeon's dark corners, his robes swirling around him like a bad omen. He had this habit of making a grand entrance, a mix of Dracula and a really angry bat. As he surveyed the class, his gaze caught Harry, then froze on Jean. It was like he'd seen a ghost—or worse, someone he'd really rather not remember.

Snape's face went through more emotions in a split second than Harry had seen in a whole season of binge-watching his favorite TV show. That was weird. Usually, Snape had two modes: scowl and sneer.

"Settle down," Snape commanded, his voice slicing through the room like a well-aimed curse. "Today, we brew the Shrinking Solution. I expect precision and patience. Instructions are on the board. Don't make me repeat myself."

With a flick of his wand, the board lit up, revealing a potion recipe that might as well have been written in hieroglyphics. Snape began his usual prowl through the aisles, his robes trailing behind him like he was some dark wizard superhero (or supervillain, depending on your point of view). 

"Perfection is the standard," Snape intoned as he stopped by Harry's cauldron, his eyes flickering with what could generously be described as a challenge. "Potter, show us if your summer vacation was spent practicing or just goofing off."

Harry looked back at Snape, trying to match the professor's icy stare. "Yes, Professor," he said, sounding way more confident than he felt. Inside, his brain was screaming, *Please don't let me mess this up!*

Snape's lips curled into a sneer. He seemed satisfied—for now. Then he moved on, leaving Harry to breathe a sigh of relief. Hermione shot Harry a reassuring look, the kind that said, "We've got this." Well, she had this, and Harry hoped he did too.

Meanwhile, Jean was giving her first Potions class her all. She was super focused, her eyes darting between the board and her cauldron, like she was trying to solve a Rubik's Cube made of potion ingredients.

"Miss Grey," Snape said, stopping by her station. His voice was softer now, not exactly friendly, but less like he was about to fail her before she even started. "As a newcomer, some allowance for error is customary, but I expect better. Surely you've heard of my reputation."

Jean nodded, her eyes wide. "Yes, Professor. I'm ready to learn."

For a split second, Snape's expression shifted. He looked almost...nostalgic? Harry had never seen Snape make that face before, and he wasn't sure if he should be worried or not.

As the class got to work, the dungeon filled with the sounds of chopping, grinding, and the bubbling of cauldrons. Harry worked carefully, stirring his potion with all the finesse of a chef on a cooking show. Hermione was already two steps ahead, her potion a perfect shade of green.

Ron, on the other hand, was muttering, "Just follow the instructions, Ron. Don't screw it up." He looked like he'd rather be facing a mountain troll than a cauldron full of potentially explosive ingredients.

Snape stalked the room like a hawk looking for its next meal, stopping by Neville's station. Poor Neville's potion had turned a color that even a goblin would find alarming. With a flick of his wand, Snape corrected it, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Careful, Longbottom, unless you wish to become your own shrinking experiment."

Neville turned a shade of red that matched Ron's hair, nodding hastily. As Snape continued his rounds, his criticism was as sharp as a freshly honed sword, but there was a glint of something else—maybe respect for those who met his high standards.

As the class wrapped up, Snape made his final inspection, pausing at Harry's workstation. Harry's potion was perfect, its color and consistency just like the instructions said. Snape's face remained neutral, but there was a flicker of something in his eyes—approval? Harry wasn't sure.

"Clean up," Snape ordered, his tone clipped. "Consider this a minor success, Potter. There will be more challenging tasks ahead."

The students started packing up, a collective sigh of relief filling the air. Harry felt a quiet triumph; under Snape's watchful eye, he hadn't messed up. Jean looked positively radiant with pride, her first taste of success in this strange and wonderful world.

Ron, still wiping down his table, managed a wry grin. "One down, a thousand to go."

Hermione, ever the optimist, added, "Well done, everyone. Now we just have to get through the rest of the day and then explore the Room of Requirement."

Harry nodded, buoyed by the victory and the promise of discovery. "Absolutely. Let's finish the day and see what the Room of Requirement has in store for us."

As they filed out of the dungeon, the heavy air seemed to lift, replaced by a sense of cautious optimism. The castle, with its ancient stones and hidden passages, seemed to hum with unspoken secrets. They weren't just students anymore; they were adventurers on the brink of a great discovery. In this world of shadows and light, where magic whispered through every corridor, they were ready to carve their own paths, guided by friendship and the mysteries of the unknown.

—

Here's a rewrite of the scene, portraying Dolores Umbridge as judgmental, prejudiced, and sadistic, while maintaining her saccharine demeanor and manipulative tendencies:

---

Dolores Umbridge stormed into the Ministry of Magic meeting room like a blizzard wrapped in pink—a strange, saccharine blizzard that somehow managed to be both cloying and terrifying. Her face, usually the same soft pastel shade as her beloved cardigan, was now the color of an overripe tomato, brimming with rage. The room's other occupants—Amelia Bones, the unflappable Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, and Sirius Black, recently reinstated as a Hit-Wizard and looking as dark and broody as a storm cloud—looked up from their discussion. Whatever they'd been talking about froze mid-sentence, like someone had just cast a Silencing Charm. The tension in the air? Thick enough to cut with a cursed dagger.

Umbridge didn't bother with pleasantries or her usual syrupy sweet smiles. Her voice, normally dripping with enough sugar to give a unicorn cavities, was now as sharp as a razor. "I demand that Harry Potter and Jean Grey be prosecuted for their actions on the Hogwarts Express! Destroying Ministry property—Dementors, no less—is a serious offense!" she spat, her eyes flashing with a dangerous mix of malice and self-righteousness.

Amelia Bones, who could face down even the most dangerous dark wizards without blinking, calmly set her quill down. She looked up at Umbridge, her gaze as sharp as a basilisk's. "Dolores," she began, her tone icy but controlled, "those Dementors posed a clear and present danger to the students, including my niece Susan, who was in the same compartment as Harry and Jean. They acted in self-defense and protected their fellow students. Their actions were not only justified but commendable."

Sirius Black, whose name might as well be synonymous with the word "serious" right now, chimed in, his voice dripping with disdain. "Their intervention was necessary and heroic. To suggest otherwise is to twist the facts beyond recognition. If you're here to smear their names and take credit for their bravery, you're wasting your time."

Umbridge's face turned an even deeper shade of red, like she'd been hit with a Gryffindor-themed Embarrassment Charm. "Their behavior was reckless and unauthorized!" she sputtered, her voice rising to a shrill pitch. "They should face consequences for acting beyond their station!" Her eyes narrowed, and for a moment, the façade of her sickly sweet persona cracked, revealing the ruthless ambition underneath.

Amelia's voice cut through the air like a well-aimed curse. "The Department of Magical Law Enforcement will not entertain this complaint, Dolores. Harry and Jean responded appropriately to a dangerous situation. If you have grievances, I suggest following proper channels instead of slinging around baseless accusations and trying to undermine those who actually do the work to protect our community."

Sirius leaned forward, his expression as hard as dragon scales. "And if you continue this witch hunt, Dolores, you'll find yourself increasingly isolated, both within the Wizengamot and among the public. Our current focus is on apprehending Peter Pettigrew, a real threat, not on indulging in petty vendettas and self-serving theatrics."

Umbridge's eyes flashed with indignation, but she could see she was outnumbered and outmatched. Her lips curled into a tight, forced smile. "This isn't the end. I'll make sure justice is served!" she hissed, before turning on her heel and marching out. Her footsteps echoed down the corridor like the beat of a war drum, though with a slightly more petulant rhythm, as if she were stamping on the very idea of being outsmarted.

As the door slammed behind her, Amelia and Sirius exchanged a glance. Amelia sighed, a sound heavy with the frustration of dealing with bureaucratic nonsense. "We have more important issues to handle, like the hunt for Pettigrew. We can't afford to get tangled up in her petty politics and her habit of taking credit for other people's hard work."

Sirius nodded, his expression grim. "Absolutely. The safety of all Hogwarts students, including Susan and Harry, and capturing Pettigrew are our top priorities. We'll keep a close watch on any further schemes from Umbridge. She's not the type to let go of a grudge easily."

With Umbridge gone, the room seemed to breathe a collective sigh of relief. Amelia and Sirius turned back to their work, their focus on the bigger picture. Justice and the protection of the innocent were far more significant missions than the whims of a pink-clad storm cloud in heels, especially one as twisted and self-serving as Dolores Umbridge.

—

Here's the rewritten scene with Rick Riordan's style, incorporating all the elements you've mentioned:

---

As the final class of the day, History of Magic, droned on, the room began to blur at the edges, turning into a foggy dreamscape of ancient battles and dusty treaties. Professor Binns, the ghostly figure who'd clearly forgotten how to make a class interesting, floated behind his desk. His voice was a spectral whisper, like the rustling of old parchment. Students stared blankly ahead, teetering on the edge of sleep.

Harry, Hermione, and Jean sat together, their notes a chaotic jumble of half-formed thoughts, as if their quills had given up entirely. Ron, beside them, was slumped over his desk, looking like he was halfway to Dreamland. The guy had a talent for making anything look comfortable—even the most boring of lectures.

"Can't this class end soon?" Ron grumbled, his voice muffled by his arm. He sounded like he was ready to summon a Time-Turner just to escape the monotony.

Hermione, her eyes still glued to her notes despite her growing frustration, whispered back, "I know it's dull, but we need to stay focused. We've got the Room of Requirement to explore after this."

Jean glanced at the clock, her expression a mix of boredom and hope. "At least the Room of Requirement sounds promising. It's something we can actually do, not just listen to Professor Binns drone on."

Harry looked at the clock too, his anticipation bubbling like a potion about to overflow. "I just hope it works like we think. Finding other mutants would be... monumental."

Professor Binns continued his lecture on goblin rebellions and ancient treaties, his voice a distant echo, devoid of any real enthusiasm. Harry's mind wandered, lost in thoughts of the mysteries awaiting them.

The minutes dragged on, feeling like an eternity until, finally, the bell rang—a chime of sweet liberation. The students stirred, their dazed expressions melting into the relief of freedom. Harry, Ron, and Jean headed for the Gryffindor common room with a newfound purpose. Hermione and Neville followed, Neville looking like he'd just survived another close encounter with disaster.

Neville had a knack for losing, forgetting, or breaking his personal belongings. His constant struggles under the watchful eyes of his teachers had earned him a reputation as clumsy and shy. But Neville, though often underestimated, was secretly one of Hogwarts' bravest students, willing to stand up for what was right, no matter the cost. With the right teacher and a genuine passion for Herbology, he proved he was far from unintelligent.

The common room buzzed with the energy of students unwinding from the day. Harry, Ron, and Jean changed into athletic gear, a nod to the adventure ahead, while Hermione and Neville opted for casual comfort. Conversations flowed, filled with anticipation.

Ginny, Fred, and George arrived, already clad in Quidditch robes and practically vibrating with excitement. Percy, slightly awkward but resolute, had been roped into the twins' latest Quidditch practice session, agreeing to it with all the enthusiasm of a Cornish pixie in a suit of armor.

"Hey, everyone!" Fred greeted, his grin as mischievous as a Slytherin plotting their next move. "Ready to check out this mysterious room?"

George added with a wink, "And don't think we've forgotten about Quidditch practice. Got to keep our edge sharp for the try-outs!"

Before heading out, Fred and George approached Harry, their eyes glinting with a secret. "We've got something for you," Fred said, handing him a folded piece of parchment.

Harry unfolded it, and his eyes widened. It was the Marauder's Map, a relic of past mischief and legendary escapades. "Where did you—?"

"We liberated it from Filch's office our first year," George explained with a grin. "But it belongs to you now. You're a Marauder's son and godson; it's only right."

Harry felt a surge of gratitude and a sense of destiny. "Thanks, guys. This will be invaluable."

Hermione and Jean, curiosity piqued, watched as Harry's eyes sparkled with excitement. "What's so special about a piece of parchment?" Hermione asked.

Harry grinned, pulled out his wand, and tapped the map. "I solemnly swear that I am up to no good."

The parchment shimmered, revealing its secret—a detailed map of Hogwarts, with moving dots and names, a living blueprint of the castle's secrets.

Hermione gasped in awe. "It shows the entire castle and everyone in it?"

Jean leaned in closer, intrigued. "It's like a magical GPS. How does it work?"

Harry, his voice a mix of pride and nostalgia, explained, "My father and his friends created it. It's perfect for navigating the castle and... avoiding trouble."

Fred and George exchanged knowing looks. "It's not just for avoiding trouble. It's for finding it too," Fred quipped with a grin.

Hermione's analytical mind raced with possibilities. "This could help us find other mutants or hidden places in the castle."

Harry nodded, glancing at the map with determination. "It's a start, but we need more than just navigation. We need to identify the other mutants."

Jean's gaze was resolute. "Exactly. And the Room of Requirement could help us with that."

With their course set, the group made their way to the seventh floor, excitement thrumming through them. Harry, leading with the Marauder's Map, kept an eye out for any surprises.

---

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