The Marauder's Map functioned as advertised. After his classmates had left for Hogsmeade, Harry had used the map and his invisibility cloak to sneak into the basement of Honeydukes. (He was left to wonder how the Weasley twins could sneak out of Honeydukes—the masters of mischief had not shared all their secrets, apparently.) Once outside, he removed his cloak and began searching for Draco and Pansy. He found the pair drinking butterbeers in the Three Broomsticks.

"Wotcher, Draco, Pansy," Harry said as he sat down next to Draco.

"Harry!" Draco clapped Harry on the back. "How'd you get out of the castle!"

Harry shrugged. "I managed a bit of mischief. I'll tell you later. Probably."

Pansy laughed. "This calls for a celebration." She waved a hand in the air and ordered a butterbeer for Harry.

Harry had never tasted anything as delicious as butterbeer. "They serve this stuff to kids?" Harry asked, taking another sip.

Draco glanced at Pansy. "Muggle raised."

"Hey!" Harry pointed a finger at Draco. "I have been a lot better! You hardly say that anymore."

"I very well couldn't, last year," said Draco. "You might have petrified me."

"That wasn't me and you know it," said Harry. He was too happy to be upset with his friend.

"Anyway, you have gotten better," said Pansy. "I knew we could make a wizard out of you."

"I'll prove I'm a wizard by hexing you, if you don't quit provoking me," said Harry with a laugh.

A shadow fell over the table and a hand dropped onto Harry's shoulder. Harry slowly turned around, certain that he had been caught by Professor Snape. Unexpectedly, the hand was attached to Marcus Flint.

"Potter, Malfoy, I wanted to talk to you." Flint walked around the table and lightly kicked at Pansy's chair leg. "Get lost, Parkinson."

Pansy screwed up her face. "Always with the quidditch. I needed to use the Little Witches Room, anyway."

Flint sat down in Pansy's vacated seat. "Potter, do you have a new broom yet?"

Harry shook his head. "No. I'm going to order over winter holidays. It will be here before practice starts again."

Draco chimed in. "Until then, he can use one of the old house brooms. They aren't 2001s, but they're still as good as anything the other teams are flying."

Flint nodded. "They'll be fine for practice."

Harry sensed that Flint was leaving something unsaid. "Practice?"

"Practice," said Flint. "You're on the reserves until further notice."

Harry suddenly felt light. It was the strangest feeling, as if his arms and legs didn't belong to him. He couldn't have possibly heard that right. But Flint was just sitting there, staring at him. Harry felt like he wasn't seeing through his own eyes any more, like he was set back somehow, simply observing, not acting, like he was seeing things in a dream, or watching a movie. Because this couldn't be real. Harry was seeker for Slytherin. Harry's quidditch points had been crucial in Slytherin's house cup victory last year. He wasn't just the youngest seeker in the school, he was the best. Getting grounded, getting sent to reserves… that was absurd.

"Flint," Harry said. The name caught in his throat—he barely choked it out. "Flint. You're grounding me? You can't be serious."

"Dead serious, Potter. I can't take a chance at you fainting during a match. We're lucky we were playing Gryffindor—their seeker was stupid enough to catch you instead of the snitch. Any other team and we'd have lost that match."

"I didn't faint, Flint." Harry's voice sounded weak in his ears. "It was the dementors."

"And what happens when they show up at the next match?" asked Flint.

"Dumbledore will keep them away," Harry said.

Flint shook his head. "No chances. We can't afford to lose a match this year."

Harry's temper flared. "You mean you can't afford to lose a match this year."

Flint's expression grew dark. He leaned forward and spoke in low voice. "Yes, Potter, I mean I can't afford to lose a match this year. This is my last chance at a quidditch contract and I'm not going to let you ruin it for me." Flint sat up. "Frankly, I'm surprised that you didn't see this coming. I knew you had a head injury as a child, but I didn't realize it made you stupid."

Harry was feeling something, he just didn't know what. His stomach was rolling, he had broken out in a sweat. For some reason, his foot was uncontrollably tapping the floor. He simultaneously felt weak, but also as if he needed to run to get rid of nervous energy. He could go to sleep, or he could run for an hour. He wanted to do either. Or both.

"Who'll play seeker?" Harry asked.

"Why do you think I wanted to talk to both you and Malfoy?" Flint turned to Draco. "You're it. Don't screw this up for me."

Draco's eyes grew wide. "I won't," he said.

As Flint stood up, Harry grabbed his arm. "Flint, I'm getting lessons on repelling dementors. You don't have to do this."

"Yes, I do." Flint shook his arm, knocking Harry's hand away. "When you've got it beat, you're back on the squad. Until then, I can't afford your weakness." Flint stalked out of the Three Broomsticks.

Harry stared after Flint. From the corner of his eye, Harry thought he saw a smile break out on Draco's face. But that would be ridiculous. There's no way his friend would be so cruel. Without moving his head, Harry turned his eyes toward Draco.

There was no denying it. His friend's smile was wider than Hagrid's waist.

Harry felt a sharp pain in his palms. He looked down. Without realizing it, he had clenched his hands into his fists, and his fingernails had left crescent-shaped marks in his palms.

Pansy returned and sat down across the table from Harry. "Harry, are you okay? You look weird."

Harry said nothing. He grabbed his butterbeer and took a deep drink, but it tasted like ashes.

"Are you okay, mate?" Draco asked. "Harry?" There was a look of concern on Draco's face, now. Harry wished he could believe it was genuine. Harry didn't respond.

"What happened?" Pansy asked Draco.

Draco quickly recounted their conversation with Flint. A smile flitted across his face when he mentioned that he had been named Seeker. Pansy scowled at him, then turned to Harry.

"Let's go to Honeydukes, Harry," Pansy said. "We'll get some sweets, take them back to the dormitory, and gorge ourselves on chocolate."

Draco rolled his eyes. "He's not a girl, Pansy. He needs to take out his aggression on something—preferably something wearing red and gold. Harry, why don't we take your invisibility cloak and play a prank on some Gryffindors? I saw Weasley hanging around the Shrieking Shack earlier."

Harry shook his head. He had no desire to spend time alone with Draco. "Let's just go to Honeydukes," he said. Harry stood immediately and began walking out of the Three Broomsticks. He could hear Pansy and Draco scrambling behind him, trying to get their cloaks on. As Harry stepped outside, he squinted in the sunlight. The sun had no right to be shining so brightly. It was offensive.

Harry walked ahead of his friends on the way to Honeydukes. Pansy and Draco spoke in hushed tones behind him. Harry was sure they were talking about him. While the greater part of Harry knew that no good could come of eavesdropping, a self-destructive part of him wanted to know what they were saying. Harry began slowing his pace, dropping backwards so that his friends grew closer.

"I'm not the one who grounded him," Draco was saying to Pansy.

"I never said you were," Pansy said.

"Then why are you mad at me?"

"You completely abandoned self-control! You were smiling about it in front of Harry!"

"I was not," said Draco, but his voice wasn't sure.

Pansy wasn't mad at Draco for being happy; she was mad at Draco for showing it. Harry snorted, painfully amused. Pansy and Draco abruptly stopped speaking, realizing that Harry was far closer to them than they had thought. They walked the rest of the way to Honeydukes in silence, and that was fine with Harry. It allowed him to brood.

Being grounded wasn't fair. He couldn't help that dementors affected him more than anybody else in his entire year. Or house. Or school. It wasn't his fault that he was weak. Harry ground his teeth together in frustration. He would learn how to stop a dementor. He would learn how to defeat one. If possible, he would learn how to kill one. He refused to allow himself to be vulnerable. He refused to allow himself to be crippled by the mere presence of a glorified bath robe. He would be strong.

When the entered Honeydukes, Harry stopped abruptly inside the door. The happy chatter and laughter was nauseating. Pansy tugged at his arm, trying to get him to browse with her, but Harry shook her off and said nothing. Instead, he drifted toward a display of Chocolate Frogs. He stood there, staring vacantly at the sweets.

Eventually, Draco approached him from the side. Pansy stood behind him.

"It's not that bad," Draco said. "We're the best team in school, and I was right behind you at tryouts. When you come back, we'll still be leading for the cup."

"It's not about that." Of course it wasn't, and Draco knew that. Harry was the seeker. That's who he was. Now that he wasn't a seeker, who was he?

Harry had to get away from Draco. He moved deeper into the store, but Draco and Pansy followed him, still empty words full of vacant optimism. Three aisles later, Harry bumped into Crabbe and Goyle. The two large Slyterins had their hands full of sweets. Goyle had turned up the front of his shirt and was using it like a bag, allowing him to carry more.

"Blimey," said Goyle when he saw Harry. "I didn't think you had a Hogsmeade pass."

"I don't, so shut up about it," Harry snapped.

"But Professor Snape will have kittens if he finds out," Goyle said.

"So I won't let him find out. It's called, 'Thinking like a Slytherin.'" Harry jabbed his index finger against his temple. "You should try it, sometime. Actually, why don't you try 'thinking,' first? Don't want to strain yourself."

Crabbe looked at Draco. "What's wrong with Potter?"

"Flint put him on quidditch reserves," Draco said.

"You got grounded? Because of the dementors?" blurted Goyle. "That's really wea-"

Harry clenched his fists. "Goyle, if you finish that word I swear I will punch you."

Goyle pushed his shoulders back and drew himself up to his full height. He dropped the sweets out of his shirt and onto the nearby counter. "Watch it, Potter. You-"

Harry stepped forward, quickly, bringing himself nose-to-nose with Goyle. The larger boy tried to step back, startled, but Goyle was pressed up against shelves of sweets and had nowhere to go.

"You think you know how to fight like a muggle, Goyle?" Harry hissed. "You won't even have a chance to get your wand. I'll punch your teeth right out of your fat face and take them home for a souvenir." Harry's vision started going dark. Everything began turning green, as if he were looking at things through a piece of glass. "I will not hesitate to leave you crying in a bloody heap on the floor of Honeydukes, Goyle. Shut your stupid mouth."

"Muggle raised," Crabbe whispered to Draco, but not quietly enough.

Harry spun away from Goyle to face Crabbe. Harry held his fist inches from Crabbe's nose and raised his middle finger. Then, without a word, Harry stalked out toward the door.

Harry heard Pansy sigh behind him. "Harry, wait!"

Harry ignored her and continued outside. He stormed down the street and turned into the first alley he could find. On the main street, Pansy was still chasing after him, yelling for Harry to stop. Before Pansy could get to the alley, Harry pulled out his invisibility cloak and disappeared into a swirl of nothingness. By the time Pansy rounded the corner, there was nothing for her to see but an empty alley.