"Slow down, mate," said Sirius, smirking. "The sausage isn't that good."

"You know I have to eat when I'm nervous," James replied, his mouth stuffed full. "This game's going to be huge, Sirius. If we don't beat Slytherin, they'll have bragging rights over us for an entire year."

"It's just a game," Remus said with a little grin. "We don't need Quidditch to know Gryffindor's better."

"Very true," replied James. "All the same, I intend to kick their little serpent arses all across the pitch today."

"I'm not so sure about that." Evan Rosier, Slytherin's new Quidditch Captain, had sidled up behind James with several of his teammates in tow. He leaned over James's breakfast with a snide smirk. Peter gave a little squeak, dropping his bacon; James felt his blood boil in his veins.

"Trying to intimidate me, Rosier?" he asked. "I reckon you wouldn't bother if you weren't intimidated yourselves." Sirius snorted.

"Not at all, Potter," Rosier said. "I only wanted to introduce our team's new Seeker. Say hi to your brother, Regulus."

Regulus Black stepped out from among the Slytherin players, sporting a fresh set of green-and-silver Quidditch robes. James's jaw dropped.

"Regulus?" Sirius was gaping at his brother like he'd grown horns out of his head. "I didn't even know you liked Quidditch."

"You don't know anything about me, Sirius." Regulus kept his eyes deliberately averted from his brother.

Rosier patted Regulus's shoulder. "He was running drills with us all last year. He's the best Seeker our team's had in a while, I think."

"Certainly better than Ramsey's replacement will be," a Beater named Crabbe sneered. "What's his name again? Wieners?"

"Wyners," James muttered. Secretly he shared Crabbe's misgivings: Davis Wyners was only a second year, and nowhere near the Seeker Ramsey King had been. Frank Longbottom, Gryffindor's new captain, had picked Wyners over a pair of boys who'd barely been able to stay on their brooms.

"Well, see you out on the pitch, Potter." Rosier slapped James on the back, hard enough to make him oof, and headed off with the other Slytherins snickering behind him.

Sirius still looked dazed. "I can't believe my weaselly little brother is on Slytherin's Quidditch team. You've got to beat them now, James."

"I plan on it. As long as Wyners can catch the bloody Snitch." James took a long sip of his pumpkin juice. "And between you and me, I'm not so sure that's going to happen."

"You'll just have to score enough points so Slytherin won't win even if they catch it," Peter said.

"If Regulus catches it," Sirius muttered. He shook his head. "I wonder if he's actually any good."

"Hopefully not." James felt suddenly dizzy, like the Great Hall was rotating around him. He clutched at his head. "Ugh."

"You all right, James?" Remus asked concernedly. "You don't look so good."

"Well, I don't feel so good." James's voice sounded as if he were speaking through a mouthful of cotton. "I think…." He stood up, and immediately he collapsed onto the floor, his vision going dark.

"James!" Sirius fell beside him and grabbed his head. "James, what—"

He didn't make it to the end of his sentence before James slipped off into a deep, sudden sleep.

When James came to, he was lying in one of the hospital wing's beds, Madam Pomfrey seated on a stool at his side. "Oh, good," she said when she realized his eyes were open, reaching forward to feel his forehead. "Are you feeling all right, Potter?"

"Fine," he murmured, though he still felt woozy. He shoved away Madam Pomfrey's hand. "What the bloody hell happened to me?"

"It seems you ingested a Sleeping Draught," she explained. "Unintentionally, I assume."

"You think?" It must have been the Slytherins—Rosier must've had one of them slip some of the potion into his pumpkin juice while they were all distracted by Regulus. James craned his neck around to see out the hospital wing windows. The sky was painted with the purple and gold of sunset; James's heart sank into his stomach. He'd missed the match. "Who won the game, Pomfrey? Gryffindor or Slytherin?"

"Of course that's what you'd be concerned about," she muttered.

"Gryffindor or Slytherin, Pomfrey?"

Pomfrey sighed. "It may be hard for you to believe, Potter, but I've got more important things to worry about than keeping track of House Quidditch victories. You—Potter, lie down!" James had stumbled out of bed and up to the windows; he knew the flag of the winning team was always flown above the Quidditch pitch after games. He angled his head until he could see the pitch off in the distance, and sure enough there was a giant green serpent banner floating above it, taunting him as it fluttered in the evening breeze.

James clenched his fists. Slytherin had sabotaged his team, left them down a Chaser the morning of the match. Frank was going to kill him—and he was going to kill Rosier.

But he was still feeling too lightheaded to do much of anything, so he didn't protest when Pomfrey grabbed him by the arm and dragged him back into his bed. Someone knocked on the hospital wing door; Pomfrey stood to answer it, leaving James to fall back against his pillows with a heavy sigh. "Miss Evans, Potter is not fit to receive visitors right now, he's only just woken up—"

Evans. "I'm all right," James called from his bed. "I want to see her." He pushed himself up onto his elbows, his heartrate quickening. What was Lily doing here?

"All right," Pomfrey relented. "But just for a minute. You need to rest."

Pomfrey led Lily into the hospital wing—she looked a little grim, and she had a bag clutched to her chest. She came to sit beside James on his bed and gave him a little frown.

"How are you feeling?" she asked.

"All right," James said for what felt like the thousandth time. "How badly did they beat us?"

"I don't remember the score," Lily admitted, "but it was pretty bad."

James cursed under his breath. "Of course it was. Your precious Slytherin friends drugged me, you know. They slipped a Sleeping Draught into my pumpkin juice so I'd miss it."

"I—I know." Lily took a breath. "Severus told me about it at the game. He wasn't involved in it or anything, but he'd overheard…I told him it was a rubbish thing to do, and the Slytherins wouldn't have done it if they thought they could beat you fair and square."

"I'm just mad I let them get the jump on me," James muttered. "I should've realized what they were doing."

"Are you going to tell Dumbledore?" Lily wondered. "He won't stand for it, I'm sure—he might even strike Slytherin's win from the books."

"Of course I'm not going to tell Dumbledore," James scoffed. "No—I'm going to deal with this myself. Those filthy snakes should've known better than to mess with James Potter."

Lily rolled her eyes. "You always have to make things difficult for yourself, don't you?" She reached into her bag and pulled out a couple of Honeydukes chocolate bars. "Well, anyway, I brought these for you. I know you're always buying chocolate whenever we take our trips to Hogsmeade, and I had some extra in my room."

"Oh." James took the bars and smirked at them. "I buy these for Remus, actually. But thank you, Lils."

"Don't call me that." She tilted her head at him curiously. "Why do you buy chocolates for Remus?"

"Because they're his favorite thing in the world," James said. "And…I don't know. He hasn't got a ton of money, and he's…you know, sick a lot, so I buy him chocolate to cheer him up. It's about all I can do."

Lily raised her eyebrows. "That's actually thoughtful of you, James Potter." She looked taken aback by the revelation.

"See? I told you I'm not a toerag." Why did he want Lily to like him so much? Why did he care if she thought he was a toerag or not? He still couldn't understand it.

"I think I'll be the judge of that." A little flush had risen to color Lily's cheeks. She stood up and brushed her hands down her robes. "Anyway, you take those…eat them, give them to Remus, what have you. I just wanted to say I was sorry for what the Slytherins did." A half-smile lifted one of her lips. "Our new Seeker actually did pretty well today, you know. Mary reckons we would've won if you were there."

"Really?" James's brows shot up into his hair. "Oh, now I'm really pissed."

Lily tossed back her head in a laugh as she strode out of the wing, Madam Pomfrey pointing the way sternly to the doors. Despite his anger, James couldn't help but smile as he watched her. Lily Evans had come to see him—willingly come to see him, all on her own. And she'd brought him chocolates. For a moment, James wondered if missing the game had been worth it just to see her furtive little smile.

You're crazy, mate, James told himself, snapping out of it. A visit from Lily was nice, but not that nice. Regardless of Evans, the Slytherin team had royally screwed him over, and they sure as hell were going to pay for it.