Before you start, I suggest that you listen to the video above ^^^ whilst reading.

This one was so heart-breaking to write! This is based on a headcanon that when Remus, the last surviving Marauder, was killed in the Battle of Hogwarts, the Marauders Map cleared itself of all content, instead choosing to forever display the words Mischief Managed.

Harry was exhausted. It had been a long day, he had worked extra hours down in the Auror Department to attend to unfinished files. He missed his two eldest children, James and Albus, every now and again. He always wondered what they were getting up to, if they were behaving, or acting up and playing pranks like their grandfather and Sirius. Harry realised he could check up on them, using the Marauders Map. He had kept it, hidden safely away where no one could get their hands on. Not that anyone would ever try and steal the map. Harry just wanted to keep it, for sentimental values.

He retrieved it and sat down on the sofa. Lily was still in muggle school, and Ginny was at her mother and fathers. As Harry held the map in his hands, he felt his eyes sting. This was the last thing he had that belonged to his father, his godfather and his teacher, all of whom died to protect Harry. The content inside it, full of knowledge about the grounds of Hogwarts and the people in there, was their creation. He just wanted to see it, one last time.

"I solemnly swear that I am up to no good" Harry sighed.

The map stayed blank, making Harry confused.

"I solemnly swear that I am up to no good." He repeated.

Nothing.

He grew frustrated now. Why wasn't it working? "I solemnly swear that I am up to no good!"

All he wanted to see was those words, those words that made it seem like they were alive:

'Messrs Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot and Prongs, are proud to present the Marauders Map.'

Yet they didn't appear.

Harry threw the map down onto the coffee table in front of him, hot tears spilling down his cheeks. Why? Why didn't it work? Was it charmed? As some sort of sick, twisted joke?

Out of the corner of his watery eyes, he spotted something. Words forming on the parchment he had just through down. His sweaty palms grabbed it once more, reading the letters as they formed.

'Mischief Managed'

It all became clear in that moment.

The map wasn't working because the makers were dead.