The match against Gryffindor was not going well. Slytherin was in the lead, of course, but a violent storm had sprung up just before the match. Both sides were finding it difficult to score. Slytherin led by only 30 points, and it was clear that the seekers would decide the match.

Harry and Katie Bell weren't faring much better than their chasers. Harry's advantages—speed and maneuverability—were negated by the powerful winds. And while Harry was normally sharp-eyed, his glasses were covered in raindrops and nearly impossible to see through. His only advantage was that his large glasses allowed him to fly into the strong winds without squinting or closing his eyes.

Bell, as usual, was staying close to Harry, simultaneously trying to interfere with his flight while searching for the snitch herself. A distant part of Harry's mind noted that, in the rain, Bell's robes clung a bit tighter than usual, but he was far too miserable to spend much time on such thoughts.

As the match dragged on, Wood, the Gryffindor captain, called a time out. Slytherin landed near their goal hoops and huddled together. Everybody looked to Flint, the team captain, for words of wisdom.

"Harry," Flint said, "Just catch the damn snitch."

With that, the Slytherin players took to the air. As the match dragged on, Harry's hands became numb with cold. He worried that he wouldn't be able to catch the snitch, even if it hit his fingers.

Harry wouldn't have thought it possible, but the storm grew stronger. Lightning sizzled through the air, illuminating the field for split-seconds. Harry cast his eyes around, desperately looking for the glint of gold, but he could see nothing. Again lightning crashed, and Harry saw…

An enormous black dog. The Grim. It sat motionless in the empty top row of seats, coolly regarding the match. The shaggy beast turned its head. Harry couldn't be sure, but he felt as if the black dog were making eye contact with him, marking him, staring into his soul.

The black dog raised its head and released a deep, mournful howl.

As the black dog howled, Harry felt himself growing colder and colder. The howl, although rising only a second before, had already begun to fade. The noise of the crowd, the roar of the wind, all the sounds in the world were being sucked away. Harry felt light headed. Almost clinically, he noted that he was releasing his broom and falling through the air, downward, toward a crowded pile of black cloaks in the center of the quidditch pitch. But it wasn't so bad. All he had to do was close his eyes. As he gave in to the darkness, Harry saw a glimpse of red and gold.

"Not Harry, not Harry, please not Harry!"

A shrill voice laughed, a woman screamed, and then nothing.

As Draco and Pansy walked out of the hospital wing, Harry lay back on his bed and closed his eyes. His Nimbus 2001 was destroyed, caught in the Whomping Willow. He had almost lost the match—to Gryffindor, of all teams. Luckily, Madam Hooch suspended the match while Dumbledore drove away the dementors. Nevertheless, Harry was mortified that his weakness had been on display for the entire school. He wanted to sleep, probably forever, so that he would never have to face his embarrassment.

"Potter, are you awake?" The voice was soft.

Harry opened his eyes and sat up. Katie Bell had poked her head into the hospital wing.

"Sure, come in."

Harry's stomach did a little flip flop—probably just the aftereffects of the dementors. Or his fall. Certainly nothing to do with Katie Bell, who was walking over to sit on the bed next to Harry. She hadn't yet changed out of her quidditch robes, and her hair was still wet and thoroughly windblown. On the whole, she looked rather fit. Not that Harry was looking.

"So," said Harry, "I hear that I have you to thank for rescuing me."

"It wasn't anything special," Bell said. "You were right next to me when you fell. I hardly had to do anything."

"But really, thanks."

"Let's just call it even," Bell said. "You and I have got to stop falling off our brooms when Gryffindor plays Slytherin. It's like we're muggles, never been on a broom before."

Harry smiled. "Any word on when we'll finish the match?"

Bell shook her head. "No. Wood was pushing for us to go back onto the pitch immediately, but Flint wouldn't hear it. Madame Hooch sided with Flint, but I just think she just wanted out of the rain."

Harry nodded. A long silence fell between the two seekers.

"So…"

"So…"

"I'm sorry about your broom," Katie said. "Well, I'm not sorry about your broom, because it was way better than mine. But I'm sorry you lost your broom."

Harry's heart stutter stepped. Suddenly frightened, Harry started babbling. "Why do we even have a Whomping Willow? Aren't there enough dangerous things at Hogwarts already? Did Dumbledore just decide to plant a tree that would demolish anything in a fifty foot radius? Seems like a great thing to have around children."

Bell laughed, and so did Harry, nervously. The two seekers grew quiet again. The silence became more and more awkward.

"Well, thanks for catching me," Harry blurted.

"It wouldn't have been right to catch the snitch while you were unconscious," Bell said.

"Oh, er, right." Harry blushed slightly. When Bell had been knocked unconscious by a bludger last year, Harry had done just that.

Bell suddenly noticed what she had said, as well. "Oh, I didn't mean, I…"

"No, I know, I know. Never mind. I know you didn't mean it."

Bell stood and nervously glanced around the room. "I'm going to go, then. Er, get well soon." With that, Bell rushed out of the hospital wing.

Harry lay back on his pillow and closed his eyes. What had just happened?

"Potter, are you awake?" The voice deep and clipped, not nearly as pleasing as Katie Bell's.

Harry's eyes jerked open. Professor Snape was standing next to his bed. Harry had been sure that there was nobody in the room after Bell left.

"Yes, Professor, I'm awake. I'm sorry, I thought everybody had gone."

"How are you recovering from your encounter with the dementors?"

Harry scowled. "I'm furious. I can't believe we have to have a rematch."

"That is not what I asked, Potter."

Harry shook his head. He had been practicing his non-answers, but Professor Snape was clearly more experienced at detecting them than Harry was at giving them.

"I don't understand it," Harry said, letting his frustration creep into his voice. "Bell was as close to the dementors as I was. Why am I the only one who collapses whenever they are around?"

"Potter, every person has distasteful moments in their past, and those are the moments dementors force you to recall. Most people remember moments of shame or physical pain. I imagine that the pain in your past is rather more… vivid. Certainly worse than any memory of Ms. Bell's."

Harry spoke in a whisper. "I can hear my mother begging Voldemort for my life. I hear Voldemort laughing, then my mother screaming… "

Snape was silent for several seconds. "You remember a moment of pure horror, Mr. Potter. When your mother was killed, you were still an infant. At your age, there could be no greater horror for a child than the loss of his mother."

"But I'm not a child any longer!" Harry snapped, slamming his fist into his leg. "Why am I so weak?"

"A void left by the loss your mother… can never be filled. It does not surprise me that that you still feel pain at her loss."

"So it will never change. The dementors will always be worse for me than anybody else?"

Snape nodded. "Most likely, yes. There are ways in which one might distance one's self from such emotions, thereby becoming impervious to the aura of the dementor…"

"Perfect. That's what I want to do. Whatever it is."

"No, Potter. I will not have you go down the same road as Sirius Black."

Harry's mouth dropped open.

"Potter, please. How else do you think he was able to survive in Azkaban? Black cut away a part of himself that made him human. He is an animal, a monster, which is why he could survive among monsters." Snape shook his head. "It is better that your learn to defend yourself. Headmaster Dumbledore is of the same opinion."

Snape handed Harry a slip of parchment, upon which was written a date and time. "Your tutoring will begin with Professor Lupin at the start of next term."

"But… can't I study with you?"

Snape suddenly looked uncomfortable, but his voice was terse. "No. You cannot. These lessons are best taught to you by Professor Lupin. He is quite competent at performing the magic involved."

Harry nodded. "Yes, sir."

As Snape turned to leave, Harry spoke once more.

"Professor? I figured it out. About Professor Lupin. That he's a werewolf."

Snape stopped, but did not turn to Harry. "Ten points to Slytherin for real-world application of lessons."

"Hermione Granger figured it out, as well. Before me, in fact. She already had the books checked out of the library."

"And ten points to Gryffindor." Snape shook his head. "That girl should have been a Ravenclaw. A Slytherin, at least. The only Gryffindor thing about that girl is her willingness to answer every question in class." Snape turned to Harry. "I trust that you understand the need to exercise discretion with this knowledge?"

"Of course. But if you didn't want us to know, why did you give us the assignment?"

"I wanted you to know, Potter. You, specifically. If your classmates are not clever enough to discover this on their own, then they do not deserve to know. You will pass the message to Miss Granger?"

Harry nodded.

"Good. Two points to Slytherin for your exercise of discretion, and two points for your decency in giving Miss Granger credit for her work." Snape hesitated a moment. "Clearly, you are more than just your father's son." With a ripple of black cape, Snape was gone.

Harry didn't understand Snape's last comment, or the reason that Snape wanted him to know about Professor Lupin. But then again, there was a lot about Professor Snape that Harry didn't understand. Harry sighed and lay back on the bed.

"Potter, are you awake?" two voices said in unison.

"I'm really getting sick of this," Harry said as he opened his eyes a third time. Standing at the foot of his bed were Fred and George Weasley. "For all that Madame Pomfrey talks about peace and quiet, she seems to be letting an awful lot of people into the hospital wing."

"There's your mistake," said George.

"You seem to be operating under the assumption that Madam Pomfrey knows we are here," said Fred.

"Fine, then. Have you come to gloat?" asked Harry.

"Not at all," said George.

"Last year, you saved our sister, so we've been thinking about thanking you," said Fred. "Obviously, we have given you a pause in our pranking…

"…but that simply wasn't enough," said George.

"And then we had a revelation," they said in unison.

"Your broom was recently destroyed in a tragic quidditch accident, causing the postponement of a match you almost certainly would have won," said Fred.

"You are being stalked by Sirius Black," said George.

"Teachers are watching your every move, draining any sense of fun or enjoyment from even the simplest of activities, preventing you from exercising your god-given freedom," said Fred.

"Worst, you don't have a Hogsmeade permission slip," said George.

"You must be wallowing in a vast mire of self-pity," said Fred.

"Devastated," said George.

"Bemoaning the sad state of your affairs to anyone with ears," said Fred.

"Inconsolable," said George.

"Absolutely and positively crushed, much like your Nimbus 2001 in the branches of a Whomping Willow," said Fred.

"Heartbroken," said George.

"Enough!" snapped Harry.

"Right!" the twins said in unison.

"We knew we could cheer you up…" said George.

"…while also thanking you for what you've done for our family…" said Fred.

"…thus, we proudly present to you…" said George.

"THE MARAUDERS MAP!" the twins said in unison.

The twins each dropped to one knee, bowing their heads and lowering their eyes in reverence. George held his hands out, palms up, and resting upon them was a piece of blank parchment. Fred threw his hands forward, fingers splayed, as if presenting a prize on a muggle game show.

"Oh boy," said Harry. "Parchment."

The twins immediately stood.

"Not just any parchment," said George.

Fred drew his wand and tapped the parchment. "I solemnly swear I am up to no good."

Before Harry's eyes, the parchment filled with an introductory script, which was quickly replaced by an enormously detailed map of Hogwarts. On the map, small dots moved about, with names attached. Harry quickly scanned the hospital wing. Indeed, there were three dots very close together: Fred Weasley, George Weasley, and Harry Potter.

"How'd you make this?"

"Alas, we did not create this magnificent piece of magical mischief," said Fred. "That honor goes to Messrs. Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot and Prongs, from whom we have learned so much. Certainly more than we have learned from the entirety of the Hogwarts staff combined."

"We nicked it from Filch," said George.

"As you can see," said Fred, "there are a great many of secret passages in Hogwarts."

"So that's how you got in here," said Harry.

George smiled. "Seven passages lead out of Hogwarts, and into…"

"Hogsmeade!" finished Harry.

"Careful," the twins said in unison.

"We're the only ones…" said Fred.

"…who get to finish each other's sentences," said George.

"Come off it," said Harry distractedly, still looking at the map. "Which passage is best?"

Fred began pointing around the map. "Don't use these four passages; Filch knows about those for sure. This one's caved in. We found that out the hard way last winter, so don't even bother. And this one's under the Whomping Willow—after your broom's latest adventure, I suggest that you don't take chances."

George pointed to another passage, hidden behind a statue of an old crone. "But number seven leads directly into Honeydukes."

"Simply follow the map's instructions, and you will safely arrive in the land of milk and honey," said Fred.

"And candy," added George.

"What's the catch?" asked Harry, suddenly suspicious.

"The only stipulation is that you promise not to use the Marauder's Map to prank us," said Fred.

"Done," lied Harry.

The twins handed over the parchment.

"You realize," said Harry, "that breaking my promise to you will be the absolute first prank I play with this map."

"We counted on it," said George.

"We can't prank the boy who bravely saved our sister," said Fred. "But a sneaky Slytherin snake?"

"A promise breaker?" said George.

"That's a person we can promptly pull a prank upon," said Fred.

"Do you two write this stuff down before you have a conversation?" Harry asked.

The Weasley twins smiled mischievously. "Almost certainly maybe not," they said in unison.

Harry rolled his eyes. "How do I turn this off, anyway?" he said, waving his hand at the map.

George tapped the map with his wand. "Mischief managed."

A/N: Sorry I haven't been as good about responding to my reviews, lately. They still mean a lot to me. Huge thanks to all my regular readers and special thanks to my regular reviewers.