Harry Potter and the Flying Squad

It was Thursday, a week and a day after the remarkable meeting in Dumbledore's office. Harry was working with Lupin, just like on every evening since then. Using a boggart, which appeared as a Dementor to Harry, Lupin forced him to conjure up Patronuses.

His teacher did so in all variations he could think of, with or without warning, in a training room or unexpectedly in a corridor, by light and in the dark. It was stressful work, so much so that Harry was lacking sleep.

A moment ago, Lupin had managed to trigger the boggart again. Expecting the familiar shape, Harry registered with surprise the first significant change in days: what appeared in front of him was mostly unclear, but for sure it was no Dementor.

Reflexively, he raised his arm to do his part, but Lupin was quicker. Pointing his wand toward the amorphous shape, the teacher called, "Riddikulus!"

The shape burst and disappeared.

Harry stared at the spot, then turned to his trainer. "What was that?"

"I don't know ... Definitely not a Dementor." Lupin looked at him expectantly. "You know what that means?"

"Not really ... Maybe I know too well that it's just a boggart, and the morphing doesn't work any longer."

"No, the morphing always works. Harry, it means that a Dementor is no longer what you fear more than anything else."

"Really?" Harry felt perplexed. "Then - erm, what do I fear the most? What shape was that?"

"Good question."

After a thoughtful pause, Lupin said, "And the most fascinating aspect for me is, it didn't look like Voldemort. Although I haven't seen him in his new body."

"No, it didn't."

Harry tried to find a name for his fears, without success.

Lupin said, "Maybe it's - remember what I told you years ago? You fear the fright, so this might be the boggart's best guess how to shape the fright."

"Could be."

Searching for something better, Harry found the words to outline his feelings. "You know, today, my own definition would be something like, I fear the power of the Dark Forces, or more precisely, their evil will and what they have in mind for other people like Hermione."

Only in his mind, he added, and for Cho.

Lupin examined Harry's expression for some time. Eventually, he rose.

"Whatever it was, Harry, we need a Dementor as your opponent. Come with me."

Harry frowned. What did Lupin have in mind?

He followed his teacher out of the room, through the corridor, and down a seemingly endless number of staircases. Finally, they reached a dungeon totally unknown to him.

Lupin whispered something to a small picture of an ugly-looking creature sitting on a three-legged dog, and the door opened. Entering the dark room, Lupin hissed, "Lumos."

Harry stood waiting at the door and watched as the teacher used the light from his wand to reach a spot by the wall and light some torches. However, even with their light, the end of the large dungeon remained hidden in darkness.

Lupin waited for Harry to come closer, then pointed. "Over there, we have a Dementor. It's captured and right now in a stupefied state. I'll activate it, and you, Harry, will chase it back into its cell. Ready?"

"Wait a second!" Harry felt a rush of horror. "You mean that's a real one?"

"Yes. It's real."

"How did you catch it? - How did you stupefy it?"

In the wavering torchlight, Lupin's face showed a smile of clenched teeth. "It wasn't my work alone. There's no need unsettling you with the details, but trust me, it was a tricky job. Suffice it to say that if your Patronus fails, I'm right at your side. Okay?"

"Okay." Despite the cold down here, Harry felt sweat on his temples.

When Lupin moved into the darker part, Harry could neither see nor hear what his trainer was doing until he came back with quick steps to place himself at Harry's side.

A moment passed.

All senses on alert, Harry could hear an almost inaudible rustling, the sound made by a robe gliding over stony ground. Even before the large, cloaked figure appeared in the dim light, he felt the frightening cold, the unmistakable hallmark of a Dementor.

Thoughts whirled through his mind. Was it true? Had he overcome the freezing panic which had previously taken him when confronted with Dementors?

Examining his inner self, he still recognized horror, but only as the natural recoiling of a warm body from this inhuman being. What he felt in addition was a growing rage, the same he'd felt upon hearing that Hermione might be killed.

This rage, growing with every step of the approaching Dementor, seemed more than enough to compensate for the unearthly cold.

Next moment, another thought shot through his mind. So far, he'd used his airfight with the Hungarian Horntail as the happiest memory for conjuring a Patronus. Throughout all the training, however, an idea had been nesting in his mind.

The happiest moment in his life - these were the few seconds when his parents had spoken with him, during his wizard duel with Voldemort. Except that the memory altogether was anything than happy, so he had rejected the temptation to try.

But this was the opportunity, the real test - if he failed, Lupin would save them both.

---

The Dementor was ten yards away.

Raising his wand, Harry concentrated on the picture of his parents under the golden arc of the fighting wands.

"EXPECTO PATRONUM!"

A spurt of light shot from his wand, quickly forming into a shape.

Harry felt triumph, immediately followed by desperation - the shape wasn't silvery, nor did form a stag! It had a colour like dark, spotted gold.

Still, the shape finished forming, then moved toward the Dementor. And as it closed in, Harry's desperation faded, making room for wonder.

There was no doubt, the Patronus formed a Centaur!

And more: as he felt his confidence grow, Harry could see how the dark spots faded, how the golden shimmer increased.

With his last steps, stiff legs stomping and fists raised like an attacking Centaur, the Patronus reached the Dementor. At the same instant, a high-pitched sound pierced into Harry's ears, a sound barely within the audible range.

It came from the Dementor; it lasted for some endless seconds, then stopped abruptly. The Dementor seemed to shrink.

It took Harry a moment to realize that the cloaked figure had collapsed. The Dementor was lying on the ground, motionless ... the cold feeling was gone.

The Centaur danced away, turned, bent, and faded into nothing.

Carefully, Lupin moved forward, his wand ready. He leaned over the formless lump on the ground, then knelt, examining closely.

Coming up, he put his wand off, returned to a speechless Harry. "I'm ready to believe it, except I'll need a few more minutes. How did you do it?"

"I don't know ... I did the same as always ..."

"No, that can't be. Something must have been different."

"The only - well, I used another memory."

The teacher's impatience seemed hardly under control. "Please - can you tell me what it was?"

After a moment's hesitation, Harry explained to Lupin what he had thought and which scene he'd imagined.

Lupin's eyes were burning in the torchlight. "Harry, do you know what you just did?"

"I conjured up a Patronus ... except it was golden rather than silvery. And it was a Centaur, not the stag as before."

"The Golden Patronus ..." Lupin's voice was full of awe. "So it's true."

"What's true? And why was it a Centaur?"

"Of all the books about the Patronus spell, there's just one that mentions a golden one. And until now, most wizards considered this a fairy tale, an exaggeration of the author, or just a metaphor." Lupin told Harry about the history of the Patronus spell, and how this topic had always suffered, from unreliable sources as much as from the lack of sufficient material.

Harry learned that the systematic usage of Dementors was fairly new in the wizard history. Obviously, most wizards in power throughout the centuries had shared Dumbledore's opinion that Dementors were a weapon that hurt more than they helped.

When Lupin finished, Harry was already impatient. "That's all very interesting, but it doesn't answer my questions. What made me do it, and why a Centaur?"

"I have no answer I can prove. All I can offer is speculation. Do you want to hear it?"

"You bet."

"I see three factors that play a role." The teacher counted on his fingers. "The first isn't really new, but it appears in a new context. Harry - your mother's love has protected you the first time, and it has reinforced you again. Don't ask me how, but for me there's no doubt."

"Hmm ..." Harry thought about this. "Well, okay. And the second?"

"Your happiest moment in life is embedded in your worst memory. But still, you didn't hesitate to use it in the first encounter with a real Dementor - I mean here in our training ... The book I mentioned contains a few lines I couldn't make sense of ever - until you told me what you did."

"You mean - it's this combination that makes the Patronus so powerful?"

"Yes. Mind you - the Dementor is knocked out, maybe even dead. I don't think we can use him ever again."

"Oh. I'm sorry. What - "

Lupin started to laugh, continued so, unable to stop.

After the first moment of uncertainty, Harry joined with a giggle.

The tension was broken. It took a while until both of them were calming down.

"Harry," gasped Lupin, "that was a good one ... In case you don't know yet - your Patronus training's over. It's the old story about the pupil surpassing his master."

"You mean you can't teach me any more?"

"That's not what I mean. I still have a few tricks to show you, and we'll use the days ahead for some of them. But I can't conjure up a Golden Patronus, so this part is over."

Harry grinned. "Fine with me. It wasn't exactly boring, but I'm looking forward to new challenges." Still, one question wasn't anwered yet. "Professor Lupin, what does it mean that the Patronus was a Centaur?"

"It means that this was your own Patronus. Until just now, you were still following your father's example, who considered a stag as the ultimate form of grace and power. Obviously, your opinion gives that position to Centaurs."

That made sense. A Centaur ... The Centaur Firenze had saved him in the Forbidden Forest, overcoming the prejudice of his own species. Harry felt very satisfied with the choice his subconscious had made.

"Let's call it a day," said Lupin. "You have things to think about, and I have a wasted Dementor to take care of ... I expect you tomorrow at the usual time. By then, I'll have an idea what to teach you next."

Harry followed his trainer upstairs, until the corridors looked familiar enough. Then he said, "Professor, I want to thank you. I don't think the student has surpassed the teacher. I mean, I wouldn't know how to catch a Dementor."

"True, Harry, you just knock them down! Goodnight."

* * *

When arriving for his training the next day, Harry learned that the Dementor was alive but catatonic, and that Lupin didn't expect him to awake ever again. It didn't bother Harry.

His teacher had mixed feelings. "I would have liked one more try, just to make sure that this wasn't your only Golden Patronus in store. But I have no other Dementor. And, to be honest, I've got a feeling the next one wouldn't even survive."

Startled, Harry said, "Professor, I don't feel too good about killing Dementors. I mean ... I have no pity, but - "

"I'm sorry."

Lupin's face was rueful. "Please forgive my thoughtless remark. I know that you don't want to move around as a killing machine. But before we discuss this any further as today's main topic, remember this: a Dementor isn't human, and it can't scale its attacking power. So it can't surrender either. A Patronus - your Patronus - fights only as hard as necessary. So if the opponent can't bend, if it can only break, it will be broken."

Harry stayed silent for some time, chewing on that. Then he asked, "Can we discuss this a little more?"

"Certainly." Lupin smiled. "It puts us right into today's lesson. Harry, what do you know about fighting?"

Harry swallowed the quick reply that had come up, remembering just in time that Lupin wouldn't ask him a stupid question. Thinking harder, he saw his assumption confirmed - beneath the surface, this question held some trapdoors.

So he chose his first answer carefully. "Fighting needs two opponents." After another moment, he added, "And it needs something to fight with."

Lupin had waited silently. Now he nodded, apparently satisfied with the answer. His next question sounded as simple as the first. "Opponents and weapons. Is that enough?"

"No. They must have a reason to fight."

Harry felt as if his answers were building a dam against the rising flood of Lupin's questions, except that soon he would be out of resources.

"Something else?" Lupin's face was expressionless.

"Hmm - yes, of course. The opponents must have the intention of fighting. Otherwise, either they would live in peace, or one would chase the other."

"Very good so far ... Now they fight."

Lupin paused, as though giving the two imaginary opponents time.

His next question came like a shot. "Who's going to win?"

"The stronger one ... Er - no, the better one."

"Really?"

Lupin's face had lost the blank stare. It looked as if he had cornered his prey. "Why didn't Voldemort win against you?"

"Because ..." After a moment, Harry continued, "One reason is that I had some protection, but I know that's not what you want to hear ..."

Checking his teacher's face for signs of confirmation, Harry saw only raised eyebrows, making it clear that Lupin had his own opinion about what he wanted to hear.

Only he didn't hint at it, and so Harry, somewhat helplessly, finished, "... I have some feeling of what I could say, but I can't put it into words."

Quite unexpectedly, Lupin beamed. "Excellent, Harry ... I'm here to put it into words. Listen to me, and be prepared for a little monologue."

After these questions, that was just fine with him. Harry relaxed, although the teacher had his full attention.

"Muggles," began Lupin, "fight with knifes or guns. Wizards fight with wands and spells. Sometimes, both sides just use their fists. But common to all of them is the big mistake of thinking that the better weapon or the higher skill is enough to win the fight ... And again and again, this expectation is proven wrong."

Harry nodded.

"Generally speaking, a Muggle would feel much more powerless than any wizard. He has no magic to solve his problems. So it's no surprise that it was Muggles who developed the philosophy of combat to its highest grades. This mental art has many forms and many names; let's summarize it to one name - Zen."

Which told Harry nothing. "What is Zen?"

"Zen is the art of exploring your inner self, to activate your inner resources. This exploration can result in a power more forceful than the outside tool, whether sword, gun, or wand ... Harry, taking your survival into account, it's obvious that you're a natural talent in the art of Zen. My job is just this, to make you aware of it and show you how to practise."

Harry quickly reviewed some events in his mind, checking whether Lupin's words rang a bell.

"I can't say you're right or wrong, anyway it feels like right."

"Exactly, because - because Zen isn't knowledge. It's feeling and understanding."

For Harry, all this seemed quite vague. He wouldn't mind a better handle to it.

"There's more," continued Lupin. "It's not enough to explore yourself. You also have to explore the inner self of your opponent. That's Voldemort's most serious weakness, and that's why all his attacks toward you failed."

"But I had help - "

"Yes, and that's just the point. Look, when he tried to kill you as a baby, he simply didn't expect a counter force strong enough to make his spell backfire. And some weeks ago, he failed again, this time because he didn't take into account the nature of the two wands."

Feeling just slightly wiser, Harry asked, "Is Zen then some kind of espionage?"

"Yes and no." Lupin had started moving back and forth. "Collecting all the information is like doing the homework, but that's just a basic prerequisite. You must feel out your enemy's spirit. Only that way can you feel his weak spot. And that's where you must hit."

"Sounds simple, somehow." Harry blushed at his banal words.

"The principle is simple, yes. Holding to it in the heat of the fight, in the possession of the seemingly irresistible power, that's the difficult part ... Call it discipline."

"Yes, I see."

---

A moment later, however, after reconsidering his encounters with Dark Forces in the recent years, Harry felt confused again. "But some of my fights were won only by breaking all discipline. How - "

"No, No!"

Lupin calmed himself. "You broke rules, you broke agreements, but you never broke the only discipline that matters: following the advice you gathered by feeling yourself and your opponent."

Harry's mind was filled with the memory of how he violated the time rule when he and Hermione had saved Sirius Black, just because it felt like the only right thing. And suddenly he understood.

"Yes, Professor, that fits."

"It's pointless to say this to you, Harry, so just for the sake of thouroughness: there is no carte blanche to do what you want just because you feel like it."

Harry laughed. "No, I wouldn't think so. I know what you mean."

"There's something else. I like to call it the first axiom of fight. I don't need to teach it to you, because you already keep to it. But I want to speak it aloud."

The handles, missed so badly only minutes ago, were gaining shape. Harry waited eagerly for Lupin's next words.

"Before you start fighting, Harry, find out whether you're ready to fight. Part of this test is knowing the scale. Is it a fight for some advantage, or is it a fight for life and death? Once you've decided to fight, do it to the end! In its shortest form, it means fight to win!"

Harry frowned. "But isn't that the obvious goal?"

"From the outside, yes." Lupin snorted. "But how often do you see people stopping in midfight because they are tired, because they feel pity, or whatever. That's how they reinforce their opponent, and that's how they lose."

"And afterwards?"

"That brings us back to the starting point ... You didn't like the effect of your fight against the Dementor. That's why you're not a wizard of the Dark Forces. To feel sick about a being you killed is a very human reaction - after the fight is over. Only then."

Harry felt a stunned surprise. "That's why the Sorting Hat put me into Gryffindor."

Lupin smiled. "Yes, Harry. Let me come to the end. If your fight was justified, and if the result was the only way of winning, the sickness afterwards will fade. You'll feel sad that this was inevitable, but you still can look into the mirror."

Had his teacher killed already? Harry would have liked to know, but he knew better than to ask. Then another question occurred to him.

"I didn't let Wormtail be killed. And then it was him who ... Was that a fight stopped before the end?"

Lupin took his time answering. "You stopped Sirius and myself, and we accepted it because only you had the right to decide. That means you ended our fight, and certainly before the end as we'd planned. But you didn't stop your own fight, simply because it hadn't even begun."

That didn't help him much. "Professor Dumbledore said it was for some reason, but all I see is that Wormtail brought Voldemort back to life."

"To prove my own theory first - you weren't ready to fight, so you didn't. That is, condemning a man to his death is of course a form of fighting. The result of your decision may be worse than expected, but that's fate ... To prove Dumbledore's point" - now Lupin was grinning - "all you have to do is open your eyes."

"Sorry," came the confused reply, "the nickel isn't dropping."

"What's a nickel?"

"Never mind - I mean, I don't see what you mean."

Lupin looked wonderingly at Harry. "Our ultimate goal is to destroy Voldemort. Do you agree?"

Harry nodded.

"Which probably means killing him. Do you still agree?"

"Yes, I do."

"Then you'll certainly agree that it's very helpful to have a body occupied by Voldemort. How else would we find and destroy him?"

Harry stared. "I didn't look at it that way."

"That's because you were involved so deeply and so personally. Now let's talk about specific training."

For the few remaining minutes of the evening lesson, they discussed plans for the next days. On arrival, Harry had expected that Lupin would teach him other spells that could be used in combat situations. But as it turned out, his schedule would be filled with mental training more than anything else.

And - despite all the handles Lupin had provided, it was still terribly difficult to grab the idea his teacher called Zen.

* * *

Some days afterwards, a letter from Ron awaited Harry as he returned to his room - initially attached to the leg of an owl sitting outside his window. Ron was inviting him to finish the summer vacation with the Weasleys, as was already the habit.

It took Harry little thought to realize that he'd never manage to pass these days without spilling a wrong word. He didn't need his new knowledge for the only possible decision. With suffering heart, he wrote:

Somehow, this felt like a very realistic example of what Lupin had meant when talking about 'stopping in midfight'. Harry wasn't going to stop in midfight, but he couldn't help but feel miserable either.

Two days afterwards, another letter arrived from Ron.

Harry grinned. Boy, were his friends in for a surprise. Thinking about this surprise, though, quickly sobered him up.