The next weekend was a Hogsmeade weekend. The halls were empty as Harry went to see Professor Lupin. Harry brought along his school bag, and tucked inside was Harry's invisibility cloak. After Harry's lesson, he planned on sneaking to Hogsmeade to celebrate his return to the air with Draco and Pansy.

Harry was watching the Marauder's Map as he walked through the halls. There was a small dot labeled "Harry Potter," and he was approaching another dot labeled "Remus Lupin." Harry never got tired of the work of Messrs. Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot and Prongs. The Map was an extraordinary piece of spellmanship. On a normal day, Harry wouldn't flagrantly carry the activated Marauder's Map through the halls, but on a Hogsmeade weekend, there was nobody to catch him. If any professors were approaching, Harry would see them, and hiding the Map would be a simple matter.

As Harry approached Lupin's office, he folded the map and tucked it into his bag. He removed his wand from his robes as he knocked on the door.

"Come in, Harry."

Harry entered the office and smiled at Lupin. Werewolf or not, Harry had decided that he liked Lupin quite a bit.

"I'm ready, Professor."

"So eager to start?" Lupin smiled. "You must have discovered a powerful memory."

Harry nodded. "I think so."

"Well, let's get to it!" Lupin opened the wardrobe containing the boggart, and the creature floated toward Harry, dirty black robes perfectly mimicking a dementor.

Harry focused his mind on Ginny Weasley. He concentrated on her fiery red hair, the look of her eyes as she opened them, the feel of her heart beating…

"Expecto Patronum!"

A bright silver light burst forth from Harry's wand. The silver light formed a wall between Harry and the boggart. Harry smiled—there was no sound of screaming, no dying words from his parents, no taunting voice of Voldemort. The boggart shied away, raising its cloth-covered arms defensively. Harry advanced on the boggart, forcing the creature back into the wardrobe, and Lupin slammed the wardrobe door.

"Well done, Harry!" Lupin took a bite of the chocolate in his hand. "It doesn't look like you'll need this today, so I'll help myself, if you don't mind."

"So, I can fly again?"

"Absolutely. That was a well-performed charm, Harry. There isn't a dementor I've ever seen that could pass through that Patronus."

Harry dashed to his school bag and pulled out a handful of parchment. "Could you write me a note saying that I can repel dementors and that I don't need to worry about them in a quidditch match?" Harry shoved the pieces of parchment at Lupin.

Lupin laughed. "Harry, you are remarkably similar to your father. There are times when I would forget, if it weren't for the color of your robes." Lupin scrawled out a note, clearing Harry to fly. Harry snatched it off Lupin's desk—he could hardly believe that it was in his hands.

"Harry? What is this?" Lupin's voice was quiet.

Harry looked back at Lupin's desk. Several other pieces of parchment from Harry's bag lay on the desk, and atop them all lay the Marauder's Map. The dots marked "Harry Potter" and "Remus Lupin" were very close together.

"Oh, er, that's nothing," said Harry. He casually reached out and picked up the Map with the same hand that had his wand. "It's just a little mischief managed," Harry said. As he spoke, he discretely tapped the Map with his wand and blanked the parchment. "I drew a map of the castle and figured I'd put us on it, since we're here so much."

"May I see it again?" asked Lupin, holding out his hand. There was a queer look on his face.

"I'd rather not," said Harry. "My artwork is embarrassing." Sweat had broken out on Harry's brow. He couldn't lose the Map—he had just gotten it. He hadn't memorized even half of the secret passages and their passwords, yet.

"I insist," said Lupin, not to be deterred. "The map, please?"

Reluctantly, Harry handed over the blank Map. Lupin placed the parchment on the desk and carefully spread it open.

"The map has disappeared, Harry. Are you sure this is merely a doodle?"

"Yes," said Harry. "Maybe Draco played a prank on me and gave me disappearing ink from Zonkos."

"Why don't we check?" Lupin pulled out his wand and tapped the Map. "Show yourself." Nothing happened. Lupin tapped the Map again. "Reveal your secret." Again, nothing. Finally, smiling slightly, Lupin tapped the map and said, "Professor Remus Lupin commands you to yield the information you contain."

Writing began to appear on the Map, as if it were being scrawled by an invisible hand.

Mr. Padfoot presents his complements to Professor Lupin, and begs him to keep his snout out of other people's business.

Mr. Prongs agrees with Mr. Padfoot, and would like to add that Professor Lupin is a hairy git.

Mr. Moony would like to register his astonishment that a person such as Mr. Lupin could ever become a Professor.

Mr. Wormtail bids the professor good day, and advises him to check for fleas.

Harry was astonished at the Map's actions. He had seen the writing appear on the Map many times, but he had never seen such an insulting display. He was certain that he was about to receive a detention. But when Harry looked at Professor Lupin, there was no anger on his face. Lupin was still smiling, but there seemed to be sadness, as well.

"I guess the parchment is joke paper, too," said Harry.

"Is there anything more you would like to tell me about this map?"

Harry shook his head.

Lupin rested the tip of his wand on the map. "And what if... I solemnly swear I am up to no good?"

The Marauder's Map burst into being beneath Lupin's wand tip.

"How…?" Harry's jaw had dropped open in astonishment.

"I don't want to know how this map fell into your possession, Harry. However it managed to do so, it was astoundingly irresponsible for you to keep it. You should have turned this in immediately, especially after Mr. Longbottom's debacle last week."

Harry looked down at his shoes and nodded. Longbottom had left the Gryffindor passwords written on a piece of paper, which is how Sirius Black had gotten into Gryffindor Tower. But Harry would never be that careless. Then again, Harry hadn't thought that he would be careless enough to hand the activated Marauder's Map to a teacher.

He was an embarrassment as a Slytherin.

"I'm confiscating this map, Harry. You understand why?"

Harry nodded.

"I won't assign you detention. Being unable to go sneak to Hogsmeade will be punishment enough." Lupin sighed. "Harry, I cannot force you to take Sirius Black seriously. But your parents gave their lives for you, and getting yourself killed for a bag of candy is a poor way to honor their sacrifice."

*!*!*!*!*

The loss of the Marauder's Map still weighed heavily on his heart, as did the lectures he had received from both Snape and Lupin, less than a week apart. Even though things seemed to be going well for Harry—he had a Firebolt, he was cleared for quidditch, he could finally cast a Patronus charm—Harry still felt as if something were wrong. At the next quidditch practice, when Harry presented Flint with Lupin's note, Harry didn't feel nearly as happy as he should have.

"Good," said Flint, reading the note. "Glad you got yourself together. Line up at chaser for drills."

"Flint, I can fly in the Hufflepuff match. That's what the note meant."

"I know. Line up at chaser."

"But- I'm the seeker!"

"Malfoy's seeker," Flint said. "He dismantled Chang in the last match. Malfoy's on a hot streak, and I'm not sitting him in favor of somebody who hasn't flown at seeker in almost three months."

Harry scowled at Flint, but joined the drills as a chaser. When Flint ordered starters to drill against reserves, Flint called Harry to fly with Pucey and himself, leaving Warrington and Montague to play defense. Harry was happy to know that he would be playing in the Hufflepuff game, but a part of him was still seething with anger.

On the day of the match against Hufflepuff, Harry was surprised to discover that he wasn't happy. Objectively, he felt better than he had for weeks. He certainly felt better than he had during the Ravenclaw match, when he was in stuck in the bleachers while the rest of the team was up in the air. But whenever Harry tried to focus on his role as a chaser, he got a bitter taste in his mouth. Yes, it was nice to be in the air again, and it was nice to hear Slytherin cheering for him… but even from the middle of the pitch, even with his back turned, Harry could pick out Pansy's voice, screaming Draco's name.

Madam Hooch called the players to the middle of the pitch. She threw the quaffle into the air, released the snitch, and the game was on.

Harry's Firebolt flew like a dream. Until the match started, Harry didn't realize how much of an advantage his Firebolt would give him against Hufflepuff. The rest of the Slytherin team flew on Nimbus 2001s, excellent brooms that were only a year old. In practices, Harry's Firebolt was clearly faster than the rest of the team, but not absurdly so. The Hufflepuff brooms, however, were a mishmash of models, none of them new. Even if they had been new, it wouldn't have mattered; none of them would have matched a Slytherin Nimbus, let alone Harry's Firebolt.

Harry's teammates were dominant. Harry was untouchable.

With Slytherin leading 40-nil, Harry found himself with the quaffle at mid-field. As Harry flew toward the keeper, he saw dark movement below him on the pitch: three cloaked figures had made their way onto the field. The dementors raised their arms at Harry.

Harry reached into his cloak and drew his wand. Firmly fixing an image of Ginny Weasley in his mind, he shouted, "Expecto Patronum!"

A blob of white light blasted out of Harry's wand, rolling toward the dementors. Harry's mind was crystal clear—he knew that he had successfully cast the charm, so he didn't pause in his flight. He continued toward the Hufflepuff keeper, firing a curving shot that looped around the keeper's hands and through the goal.

Madam Hooch's whistle blew, stopping play at 50-nil. Instead of restarting play, Madam Hooch landed next to the dementors, who were laying on the ground in a tangle of arms and legs. This was rather odd, as dementors were almost bodiless under their tattered black cloaks.

Madam Hooch began pulling at the dirty robes, revealing Fred, George and Ron Weasley. Harry could hear her voice, even over the roar of the crowd. "This is despicable! Sabotage? I expect better from Gryffindor. If you can't defeat Slytherin on the quidditch field, you don't deserve the Cup!"

"It was just a laugh," said George, smiling despite the scolding.

"Detentions all around!" roared Madam Hooch. "See me in my office immediately after the match!"

The Weasleys slunk back to the Gryffindor stands, all the while being jeered at by the Slytherin section.

The "dementor" attack was the only interesting thing that happened during the match. Draco easily beat Diggory to the snitch, and Slytherin won the match, 220 the 30. The only thing standing between Slytherin and the quidditch cup was the rematch with Gryffindor.

That evening, at the quidditch party, Pansy announced that her birthday celebration would coincide with the Gryffindor/Slytherin quidditch match. "After Draco wins us the quidditch cup, we'll have a party so big that the whole school will be kept awake!"

"I'm getting a little sick of Pansy," Harry said to Tracey and Daphne. The three of them were sitting at a small table, far away from the main crush of the quidditch party. "The way she's fawning over Draco is just… unseemly."

"The way she's fawning is unseemly?" Daphne asked. "Or the way she's fawning over Draco?"

"What do you mean by that?"

"You never seem upset when she's fawning over you."

"I do not allow myself to be fawned over," said Harry. "When have I ever?"

Daphne laughed. "When have you not? First year, it was just because you were Harry Potter, The Boy Who Lived. Last year, it was because you made seeker, and then because you were the leading suspect for Heir of Slytherin. And Pansy was all over you this year, until Draco became seeker. She fawns over you, Harry. Admit it."

Harry crossed his arms. "Never."

"Don't worry," Tracey said, patting Harry's arm. "You did great today. You and Flint and Pucey looked like professionals out there. The game was won long before Draco caught the snitch."

"Maybe," Harry said, "But that's not the way the rest of the house remembers it." Harry waved his arm at Draco. The blonde boy was sitting on a couch across the room, and a throng of students were crowd around him. Pansy was curled up next to him, her hand resting lightly on the back of Draco's neck. She stared into his eyes, hanging on to his every word. Draco was recounting the maneuvers in the day's match, and how he had outwitted Diggory. As if the rest of Slytherin hadn't been there. As if they hadn't seen it with their own eyes.

"Listen to him," Harry said. "He sounds like such a prat. I never acted like that when I was seeker."

Daphne raised an eyebrow. "No?"

"No. When people ask me about a match, I give them insight. I tell them things that they wouldn't have noticed. Little things that you can't see from the stands. Draco's making the match sound easy. I help people realize how difficult it really was. Draco's gloating. I analyze."

"Of course," said Daphne.

"I'm surprised that you're upset," said Tracey. "I thought you would have liked this. You know, not being the center of attention for once?"

"I don't mind attention. I just want it to be the right kind of attention. Staring at my scar? Asking me to talk to snakes? Wrong kind. Quidditch is different." Harry shook his head.

"So when you're rightfully being praised for your quidditch brilliance," said Daphne, "the attention is okay?"

Harry was prepared to say something cross, until he saw the grin on Daphne's face. "Stop taking the mickey, Daphne."

"You make it so easy, though."

A/N: So, I discovered that the way to get an avalanche of reviews is to hint at romance in any way. Yikes! Some strong opinions about Ginny Weasley out there!