Harry Potter and the Flying Squad

Monday morning, Harry woke after disquieting dreams, not remembering any of them. His scar didn't hurt, a fact he took as a sign that Lupin was alive - not an omen, more a kind of bell that hadn't rung.

A night's sleep had done its miracle: Harry felt refreshed, string, and full of his new determination - and his even newer certainty.

Still before breakfast, he climbed the narrow staircases to Professor Trelawney's office to deliver his five pages. It seemed eons ago that he'd played Parrot Tarot in a Divination class ... How unimportant this now sounded!

The office was closed, and nobody answered to Harry's knock - of course, early morning wasn't Trelawney's time.

What to do? He'd done his duty and wasn't willing to waste any more time with this legacy from the past, but dropping the pages on the floor mat felt just too rude. Pinning against the door? No, there was something tremendously better.

He went down the Divination tower, up into his dormitory; down Gryffindor Tower, up to Trelawney's office; and a moment later, Harry's servant flying carpet hung in the air, chest-high, offering a roll of parchments with a long analysis of a Celtic Cross - actually, it had been pretty close to the real events.

Time for breakfast. Coming into the hall, Harry checked the teachers' table: no Dumbledore, just as expected. His last real meal had been yesterday's breakfast. He ate for two.

Hermione noticed it and showed here approval. "Back among the living?"

"Yes." How to talk without revealing too much? "My head's clear - both inside and out."

There was a moment of confusion in Hermione's face, then she understood. "No - er, burning?"

"No. Everything's as fine as it can be."

Relief appeared on her face. "Good. Sometimes, such a weather sensibility comes in quite handy, doesn't it?"

A sleepy Ron grumbled, "What nonsense are you talking about?"

Hermione blew air through her nose. "Ever heard of lightning bolts? One that is, and another one that wasn't?"

Ron stopped chewing, looked questioningly at Hermione, then at Harry, who rubbed his forehead and said, "No headache."

"Ah - ah, yes ... of course, yes." Ron came slowly awake.

Hermione said, "Morning, dim-bulb," satisfied at noticing that Ron had caught this one immediately.

Harry faked reproach. "You shouldn't say that, Hermione. He's saving energy - just like the doctor said."

Ron glanced at him suspiciously. "Harry, do me a favour - get back to your dimwit state, at least until after breakfast."

* * *

In Transfiguration, Professor McGonagall appeared with the infamous wooden box. She had barely started asking for volunteers when Harry put his arm up - gone were the times of fussing around, worrying about other people's reactions to his weird abilities. Determination was a strong force, although it was closely rivaled by another power.

"Mr Potter."

He stepped forward and took out his wand.

McGonagall asked, "Another Goblin hand, Mr Potter?"

"No, Prof." He aimed the wand at his outstretched right arm. "Manuserpeversa!"

A whispering rushed through the class: where a second earlier his right arm had been, a snake was hanging in the air, bending, hissing, a brilliant shape of emerald green.

Harry didn't even try to move it with his shoulder - suddenly he knew why Neville had failed. He grabbed the snake behind the head, directed it toward the hole in the box, and said, "Go - fetch the coin inside!"

A moaning and a choked cry could be heard behind him. Unperturbed by the noise, the snake's head disappeared in the hole. Harry took a half-step forward to provide sufficient room - or body length - to let it move. Seconds later, the snake's body bent in arches, and the head came out - a Galleon between its fangs.

He put the wand down and held his left palm open. "Give it to me!"

The coin dropped into his hand.

"Thanks - well done." He took his wand again. "Refigurate!" A snapping twist, then his arm was back.

There was no applause.

McGonagall said, "An impressive demonstration, Mr Potter - although I have to admit that even for me it was a bit nerve-racking. Nevertheless - the Galleon and the ten points are yours."

"Not quite," replied Harry. "The Galleon and five points go to Neville, because he's the one who had the idea - I wouldn't have thought of it. Anyway, I know why he failed: the snake has a head of its own, it's awfully complicated to control it from inside ... Prof, I wonder how you managed."

McGonagall said dryly, "Lacking your skill, I had to make do."

Harry burst out giggling. "Sorry, Prof." Still chuckling, he marched to Neville's seat, where he put the coin down. "Neville, that's rightfully yours."

Neville looked as pleased as Harry - in sharp contrast to the rest of the class. "You shouldn't do that, Harry. Your snake was beautiful ... But I won't object." He sacked the coin happily.

Returning to his seat, Harry was greeted by Ron's whisper of, "How unfair - such a dirty trick early in the morning!"

From Ron, this felt like a compliment. "Play to your strengths," whispered Harry back, "and besides - the snake was pretty clean."

Minutes later, Hermione had earned the Sickle with her claw hand, for once not grudging about someone else having been first. At Ron's remark, she said calmly, "What do you mean, second? I won as many points as Harry and Neville, so we're on par."

* * *

Coming to lunch, Harry again checked the teacher's table: no Dumbledore. By his own calculations, now would have been the earliest, if small, possibility of finding the Headmaster back at Hogwarts. So he felt no reason to worry.

Before he could sit down, Alicia reached him. "Harry, Katie and I are scheduled for after-lunch, but Katie's caught a horrible cold. Can you step in?" She grinned. "A threesome - you, Cho, and I." Then her grin broadened. "Come to think of it, we could do it without Cho."

Harry grinned back. "What's wrong with your nose?"

"Nothing - why?"

"If you want to keep it that way, don't let me suggest your idea to Cho."

"Oh." Alicia glanced respectfully to the Ravenclaw table. "Only joking - but then, that might be what Cho would say after the blow."

Harry walked over to ask Cho.

She examined his face suspiciously. "And why do you look like a cat that found the cream pot?"

"Er - something Alicia said."

"Indeed." Demonstrating angelic patience, Cho said, "Would you please repeat it, Harry?"

Almyra was following the conversation, her hands already pressed on her mouth.

Harry tried not to look at her, otherwise he would burst out. "Better not," he said.

"Why not?"

"I had the impression your response might hurt her nose."

This pushed Almyra over the edge. Her body was shaking from silent laughter, while squeaking noises escaped her hands.

Cho gave up. "Surrounded by traitors - what can I do? Tell Alicia that it's okay, otherwise she might have the crazy idea to fly with you alone."

Unable to keep his face steady, Harry registered how Cho took the conclusion. He quickly jumped back, not entirely sure whether Cho's fist had been playful. Returning to his own table, he could see that Alicia had watched the scene.

She said, "Really, Harry - I would treat you more delicately."

"Stop it - you'll get both of us into serious trouble."

He could sign out right at the table. After Ron's nod, Harry grabbed his cloak from the dormitory, then hurried down and out into the storage room. Taking his Steel Wing, he heard a sing-song from behind.

"T'lespasse'ls have to pay a b'lidge fee." A small figure blocked the entrance, her arms stretched to the door frame at both sides.

He stepped closer, then put his broomstick aside. "And what kind of payment would that be?"

"No cake, that's all I can tell. A diligent young student like yourself should be able to figure it out." Cho was positively purring.

Bending closer, seeing her head arching up, he asked, "Maybe something like ..."

"Mmhm."

A funny feeling, the vibration from that hummed sound. Next second, another voice made him jerk back.

"Heyheyhey - what's happening here?" Alicia had arrived, grinning. "Get up in the air - you two need some cooling down."

Harry took his Steel Wing, stepped out, and quickly jumped into the air. In a way, Alicia was right - the slight breeze brought his burning cheeks back to normal.

They used the patrol to refresh their fluency in Squad manoeuvers, developed for triple teams and therefore unsuitable while flying as two and two.

Riding the Steel Wing had been a good preparation for the classes afterwards. It gave Harry something to think about, to hold in his mind, which constantly drifted off to pictures of that house - real ones from inside, imagined views from outside. What the teachers had said, what his classmates might have answered, Harry couldn't remember.

Afterwards, he dumped his bag in the dormitory and returned to the hall. He would sit there, watching people passing by, and wait for supper. Then he would sit again, watching and waiting, until it was time to go to bed, or until some people came through the door, whichever came first.

* * *

After a while, his mind reached a state of idleness that was bare of any specific thought. Time passed. He awoke when somebody dropped into the opposite seat.

It was Fleur. "Salut, 'arry. Why so alone?"

"Huh? ... Oh - I felt like it."

"You felt like it - certainly." Fleur smiled. "So you're not waiting for someone to appear, which means we can talk."

"Yes, sure." He looked wonderingly at her.

"It's three weeks until the Beauxbatons ball - " Fleur stopped, slightly astonished at registering his lack of enthusiasm. "Do you remember? Music, and dancing - "

He grinned. "Faintly. It was some movement, right?"

Fleur shook her head in mock despair. "British students - a hopeless case. Nevertheless, are you going to attend the ball, Harry?"

"I hope so - why?"

"Because I've been ordered to invite you, Sunday after the ball, to a day at my parents' - erm, estate." Fleur seemed a bit embarrassed.

"Ordered?"

Noticing her awkwardness, Harry had a sudden memory of some other parents who had sent somebody with an invitation. Carefully, he asked, "Whose order is this?"

Beaming, Fleur answered, "Guess who? Who's collecting stories about you, asking me each time 'ow you're doing?"

Oh no, thought Harry. "Er - Gabrielle?"

"Yes, who else! She's waiting for that day, meeting 'er 'ero at home - "

"Her hero? What ..." Desperately, he searched for tactful words. "This invitation - is it me alone?"

Something in his expression told Fleur what he was afraid of. She laughed. "No, of course not! Cho's also invited - Gabrielle will be delighted to meet you both, although you'll be the main guest for her."

"That's good." Harry was relieved. "You know, for a moment, it sounded very much like the Ginny syndrome."

"I just realized why you were so reluctant." Fleur shook her head. "No - Gabrielle won't blush and fall silent because you're around, quite the contrary. She'll take you by the 'and and show you everything, and show off with you to her friends. That's what you should be prepared for."

"That'll be fun."

Still, Harry couldn't imagine why Fleur had been so embarrassed. It wasn't because of her sister, so much for sure. Then maybe ...

"This estate," he asked, "where is it - or what is it?"

He'd got it right: the strange expression was back on Fleur's face.

"It's a - a property in the Bretagne," she said, "with - er, a park around ... Lots of green - although not yet at this time of the year."

"A park? Is this a farm?"

"No - not exactly."

"Fleur - what is it?"

"Er - a castle." Fleur's cheeks were pink - a rare view.

"And your parents are rich, right?"

Fleur nodded.

"This is the day," said Harry, grinning, "Fleur embarrassed, just because her parents are swimming in money - "

"They don't swim in it!" protested Fleur.

"Sorry - I shouldn't tease you. Anyway, I have no problem with that - not at all; actually it sounds very nice. Are you going to ask Cho yourself?"

"Yes." Fleur hesitated. "I was wondering ... 'arry, should I invite Ron? And 'ermione?"

It was a strange question. "Why do you ask me? All I can say is, they'd be happy - a castle in France, a park surrounding ... What's wrong with it?"

"Nothing, it's beautiful - it's just that sometimes I find it difficult to talk about it to people who are - er, less privileged."

Harry smiled. "I don't know how it feels to grow up in a castle with a park, but at least I know exactly what you mean."

Fleur smiled back, told him that she would find the courage for the other two invitations, and walked off.

Harry thought about a time three weeks ahead. By that time, Lupin would be back, or ... He stopped the thought, forcing his mind to the current time. Right now, anything was possible - Dumbledore might come through the entrance any second.

* * *

Dumbledore didn't come; he wasn't there at supper. The other students and teachers arrived, ate, and disappeared again. Eventually, Harry was the only person left sitting in the hall.

Still, he didn't feel lonely, or bored. There was plenty to think about - for example, how it might feel being a guard at some distance from a house, rather than in the Great Hall of Hogwarts.

Half an hour passed. Then he heard somebody crossing the hall, approaching his seat. Not in the mood for conversation, he didn't look around. However, when the steps stopped right behind him, he turned.

Cho stood there, a box in her arm. "Waiting, Harry?"

"Yes."

"Are you interested in a strategy lesson?"

Cho as a strategy teacher? This sounded like the promise of an entirely new aspect. He examined her face, the box in her arm, though he didn't learning anything.

"Here?"

She nodded.

"Yes, why not? What's in the box?"

Cho walked around the table and took the opposite seat. Then she put the box on the table and opened it.

Harry saw a board, about the size of a chessboard, only with a pattern of lines rather than fields of alternate colours.

Cho pulled the board out, unfolded it, and placed it on the table. Then she extracted two trays with lens-shaped stones. The stones in the first tray where almost white and looked like peppermint pills; the others were licorice-black.

"Our training material," she said. "It's a game - Go."

Harry had heard that name before. Something like the far-east version of chess, that was all he knew. After examining the board again, he took one of the stones in his hand, feeling the hard material with the polished surface. He placed the stone in one of the squares that were formed by the lines.

"It's not chess, Harry - you place the stones on the crossing of two lines."

He shifted the stone until it covered a crossing.

"Good." Cho took a white stone and placed it on the board, a few lines away from his black one.

He stared at the two stones. Unable to deduct a meaning, he looked up. "And now?"

"Now it's your turn again - place a stone!"

Harry took another white stone and placed it next to his first.

Cho's next stone was far away from her first placement.

He took a third stone, placed it next to hers.

Cho's following stone was placed neighbouring his, diagonal to her previous one.

Harry looked at her. "I don't know what we're doing here. What about a bit of explanation?"

"Go has only three rules," was the answer. "You've mastered the first one already: we place stones in alternating sequence. In a moment, I'll be able to explain the second rule, and that's the most important one."

Harry shrugged, suppressing a remark about this seemingly ridiculous game. It looked simpler than child's play, no comparison to chess. His next stone was placed in the middle of the board, away from all others.

Cho's stone made a third neighbour of his own. "That's it," she said. "Look at this, Harry."

He studied the constellation of the four stones, three of Cho's white ones around his single black one.

|   |   |   |   |   |   |
-+---+---+---+---+---+---+-
 |   |   |   |   |   |   |
-+---+---+--( )--+---+---+-
 |   |   |   |   |   |   |
-+---+--( )-(#)-( )--+---+-
 |   |   |   |   |   |   |
-+---+---+---+---+---+---+-
 |   |   |   |   |   |   |
-+---+---+---+---+---+---+-
 |   |   |   |   |   |   |

"The second rule," said Cho, "is about freedom."

A shiver ran through Harry. He still didn't know what Cho was talking about, but this word alone offered enough thrill to catch his attention. So Go was more than child's play - actually, some people said that chess was child's play, compared to Go.

"Stones have degrees of freedom," explained Cho. "Each empty crossing next to a stone - where you could place another stone - counts as one degree. A single stone like this one" - she pointed at Harry's stone alone in the middle - "can have four degrees of freedom. What's important - if stones form a contiguous pattern, like your two stones together here, they share their degrees of freedom ... Harry, how many degrees do your two stones together have?"

He counted. "Six."

"Right. You see, when putting a stone adjacent to another one of your colour, you take one degree away but you add the other degrees of the new stone. Got it so far?"

"Let me see ... A single stone in the middle has four degrees. A stone at the border has three, and a corner stone has only two." He counted. "Each of your three stones around mine has three degrees, and mine has just one left."

"Correct. Now look at your stone surrounded by mine. Assume it's your turn: what can you do?"

"I can put another stone adjacent to it, and then - then they have three degrees together."

"Right. And if it's my turn?"

"You can put a stone which takes the last degree of freedom from mine ..." Feeling excitement, Harry asked, "What happens when a stone loses its last degree?"

"That's rule number two. A stone, or several stones together, which have lost all degrees of freedom are taken off the board. Since it's my turn, I'll do it."

Cho placed her stone and took Harry's black one off the board. The resulting pattern was a star shape of white stones only, with a hole in the middle:

|   |   |   |   |   |   |
-+---+---+---+---+---+---+-
 |   |   |   |   |   |   |
-+---+---+--( )--+---+---+-
 |   |   |   |   |   |   |
-+---+--( )--+--( )--+---+-
 |   |   |   |   |   |   |
-+---+---+--( )--+---+---+-
 |   |   |   |   |   |   |
-+---+---+---+---+---+---+-
 |   |   |   |   |   |   |

"What about the black stone?" asked Harry, staring at the stone in Cho's hand.

"That's my prisoner," she replied. "At the end of the game, we total up two things: our prisoners and the positions in the board that are counted as our territory. This empty place here would probably be my territory ... Prisoners and territory positions count one each. The winner is the one who has won more. Basically, that's all."

"That territory - is it always clear who's holding what territory?"

"Generally, yes," said Cho. "Territory consists of places the other player can't use because his stones would be captured. Now assume there's an array of four positions, and I claim them as my territory, but you disagree. Then we have to play until it's clear. In that case, you would place two stones, I would place two stones, and my last one would capture your two - okay so far?"

"Yes."

"Now count again: I have a territory of only two left, but I have two more prisoners. So the sum's the same as before - four."

Freedom, prisoners, territory ... This was just a board game, but even so, Harry, still waiting to play his first game, was fascinated. Of course, the current situation, in which freedom - or the lack of it - and a certain prisoner played the dominant roles, added a lot of thrill to the terminology. But anyway, this Go stuff felt like the proper mix for a lifelong addiction.

"I want to show you the third rule and then an example for a fortress in Go; afterwards we can play," said Cho. "Put three of your stones opposite of mine."

Harry obeyed. The resulting pattern looked like the Go equivalent of two wrestlers.

|   |   |   |   |   |   |
-+---+---+---+---+---+---+-
 |   |   |   |   |   |   |
-+---+---+--( )--+---+---+-
 |   |   |   |   |   |   |
 +---+--( )--+--( )--+---+-
 |   |   |   |   |   |   |
-+---+--(#)-( )-(#)--+---+-
 |   |   |   |   |   |   |
-+---+---+--(#)--+---+---+-
 |   |   |   |   |   |   |
-+---+---+---+---+---+---+-
 |   |   |   |   |   |   |

Cho said, "Assume it's your turn, Harry - can you place a stone in the middle and capture my lower stone?"

"Sure, why not?"

"Yes, you can place it, but listen: a placement isn't allowed if it would be a suicide, that means if the placed stone - and maybe others as well - had to be taken off immediately. So, if your other stones weren't around, this move would be against the rules. Got it?"

"Yes."

"But a move is completed only after the captured stones are taken off, and that's why your stone can be placed - although for a short moment it has no degree of freedom left. But after you've taken off my stone, it has one degree."

Studying the pattern, Harry said, "And then you do the same with mine, and I do the same with yours, and so on ... until the trays are empty."

Cho grinned. "I'm very pleased with you as my student - you've found the reason for rule number three."

"Hey, wait a second - how are you countin that? Setting, degrees, prisoners, territory - that's more than three!"

"Maybe, if you want to be picky ..." Cho's face left no doubt about her preference for a bit more tolerance. "A Go master treats them as the elementary mechanisms, while a rule defines specific situations. This one's called Ko."

"They're not making a fuss with long words, do they?"

"You're lucky there's no true Go master around - actually it's a Japanese game, we Chinese aren't capable of the finer details, except that's another story, so let's talk about Ko."

"Yo, Cho - Ko."

It took a moment longer before Cho had recovered enough to explain more.

"The Ko rule says, in such a pattern you can't place a stone immediately in your next move. You can do it in the move afterwards, and that gives your opponent the opportunity to close the Ko - that would mean filling the hole - or leaving it open."

Harry thought it over. To him, every second move still seemed enough to empty the tray quickly. Then he registered the full meaning.

"And in that move, another threat can be established, right?"

"Yes, and that's why Go is such a wonderful training in strategy."

"Okay. Can we play now?"

"One more example - let me show you the fortress pattern." Cho took black and white stones and arranged a formation in which the black stones indeed looked like a fortress, surrounded by enemies.

|  |   |   |   |   |   |   |   |   |   |
-|--+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+-
 |  |   |   |   |   |   |   |   |   |   |
-|--+---+--( )-( )-( )-( )-( )--+---+---+-
 |  |   |   |   |   |   |   |   |   |   |
-|--+--( )-(#)-(#)-(#)-(#)-( )--+---+---+-
 |  |   |   |   |   |   |   |   |   |   |
-|--+--( )-(#)--+--(#)--+--(#)-( )--+---+-
 |  |   |   |   |   |   |   |   |   |   |
-|--+---+--( )-(#)-(#)-(#)-(#)-( )--+---+-
 |  |   |   |   |   |   |   |   |   |   |
-|--+---+---+--( )-( )-( )-( )--+---+---+-
 |  |   |   |   |   |   |   |   |   |   |
-|--+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+-
 |  |   |   |   |   |   |   |   |   |   |

"A fortress," she said, "is a contiguous pattern with two eyes - like this one. Can you see how it works?"

Harry grasped the idea immediately. "Sure: neither of the two eyes can be closed because the first move would be suicide - which means, the entire pattern always keeps two degrees of freedom."

"Yup ... Now let's play." Cho placed four of Harry's stones close to the four corners of the board.

Astonished, Harry watched her preparations. "Hey - what are you doing there?"

"You're a beginner - it's to help balance out your lack of skill."

In the first game, Harry was slaughtered by Cho.

He had expected that, and had used the game to study her technique in constructing patterns. Cho placed stones at certain distances, always the same number of lines above or below and to the side. When he tried to attack, her next stone halved the distance between the two stones closest to his own. Then, with another stone, she was able to secure the exposed pattern.

Close to the end of the game, he'd already taken to using the same strategy, except it was of course too late.

About to prepare for the second game, Harry saw Ron arriving from his office. He waved. "Oy, Ron! Want to learn something better than chess?"

Ron reached the table, looked at the board, and examined the stones. "What's this? Hoop-di-loop for first-years?"

"English barbarian," snorted Cho.

Harry grinned. "That's Go. Sit down and watch, and let's see whether your mouth is still that big at the end."

Ron took a seat next to Harry's.

While making their moves, Harry and Cho explained the rules to Ron. After some more questions, Ron fell silent - as an experienced chess player, he could keep the watcher's rule: no talking.

The game ended with three points more for Cho.

"Close enough," she said to Harry. "In the next game, there won't be any more beginner's stones for you."

"That's okay. You'll have trouble enough without them - I promise you." He turned to Ron. "So what's your comment now?"

Ron grinned. "You're just looking for something you can win against me ... Well, this might be it, let me watch one more game."

"This is my last one," said Cho, "then I'll leave it to you. I need some beauty sleep - lacking that, I need some sleep."

Neither Harry nor Ron took the chance for a remark; their eyes were fixed on the board.

For the first time, Harry felt on a par in the game, but soon he became aware that Cho hadn't used her full skill in the two previous games. Within minutes, a silent battle of black and white stones took place, with attacks in one corner being answered by counter-attacks in another. It was a fight about minute details of advantage, including the first real Ko patterns. Suddenly, a single stone more or less became extremely important. Each time Harry thought the Ko could be closed, Cho found another move that had to be answered first.

Counting after the game, Harry found himself in second place: one point less than Cho.

He moaned, "Whew, almost. At least I know where I made the mistake. One more, then - "

Cho looked pleased. "There's nothing to complain about your learning speed, Harry. Anyway, this here's Muggle Go - once you've beaten me the first time, I'll show you Wizard Go."

"What's the difference?"

She grinned. "Some magic, what else? Hone your skills with Ron; I'm done for today ... See you tomorrow."

Harry watched her leave, his eyes turning back to the game before she'd reached the exit. Glancing at Ron, he asked, "Ready?"

"You bet." Ron's eyes where shining.

The first game was easy play. Even for Ron, watching and playing were still two different levels.

In the second game, Harry had to be more careful - until Ron made a mistake that cost him four stones. "Dammit!" he muttered.

"We can stop this one and start the next," offered Harry.

"No - I learn fastest when I'm mad about my own mistakes."

Ron was right. Having lost all hope for this game, he used it to experiment with patterns and sequences. In the third game, there were no more obvious mistakes. Only toward the end, Harry took profit from better placements, winning by three points.

"One more, Harry - then I really have to go."

Ron had learned the lesson. His new placements were better than before, coming to full effect while the board was being filled. Harry could hold out against Ron's strategy, though not more.

Counting at the end, they found it was a draw.

"To some degree, it's like in chess," said Ron. "If you don't make a mistake, you can hold it, but that's all. To win, you have to take risks - and find the better end for yourself."

It was true, and for the first time Harry had a feeling of what it meant in terms of stone placements, something he'd never mastered in chess. Moreover, he could feel how his vision of strategy was shaped while playing Go, getting sharper and wider at the same time.

A single attack, no matter how courageous, didn't win the match. The absence of weak spots, plus some carefully placed anchor points, were the cornerstones of a successful strategy. He would have to think about what it meant in the real world.

* * *

Waking late next morning, Harry rushed down: no Dumbledore. It felt like a blow in the stomach, leaving a dent in his armour of patience and faith.

Through the morning classes, he steadied himself again, fixing his mind toward evening as the next checkpoint. In History of Magic, he remembered the pending request for the Ollivander essay and admonished himself to settle back to a minimum degree of normal student's daywork, particularly for a student with O.W.L.s coming closer.

After class, he went to the library.

"I'm sorry, Mr Potter - no luck." Madam Pince seemed more satisfied than disappointed. Probably finding the essay at Beauxbatons might have caused serious damage to her self-esteem, or to her opinion of the Hogwarts library.

"I sent an owl to the NLML," she said. "You may check in again Thursday or Friday."

Coming down to lunch, Harry found Dumbledore's seat still empty - which was expected, at least within the limits he'd set himself.

Another seat was also empty: McGonagall's. It could mean anything or nothing; anyway, Transfiguration was the first class after lunch.

Entering the classroom, the Gryffindors were surprised at not finding Professor McGonagall ready and waiting for them. Seeing the empty space behind the desk, Harry's pulse quickened: something was going on, no doubt related to Lupin.

The students were still discussing this unusual beginning when the door opened and Mr Filch, the caretaker, stepped in. Grumpily, he announced that the class was cancelled because Professor McGonagall had other business and there wasn't any other teacher available to step in, so the students might spend the time somewhere else and with something else but, as far as he was concerned, without any noise, without causing any dirt, not in the corridors and most preferably nowhere else in Hogwarts.

Harry exchanged a glance with Ron, and another with Hermione. "Let's have a look," he murmured.

They left the classroom and entered the staircase to Dumbledore's office without attracting attention. On the upper landing, Harry hesitated a moment. "Let's check whether the gargoyle is open."

Climbing higher, he found the guarded door unlocked. It couldn't be by accident!

His heart pounding, Harry climbed the steps, followed by Ron and Hermione. He reached the entrance to the office and found it closed, no murmuring audible from inside.

He knocked.

"Come in." Dumbledore's voice!

Entering, they found Dumbledore behind his desk. "I had no doubt that you would find me," he said, "so I saved any public invitation."

Examining the Headmaster's face, Harry tried to find an answer before asking. Dumbledore looked a bit tired; otherwise, Harry might as well have read tea leaves.

"Sit down," said Dumbledore, "and let me tell you what we know."

Harry found a seat, barely registering the phoenix, which arrived to occupy its usual place on Harry's left shoulder.

"We found the house."

Thoughts whirled through Harry's mind. The place was known? Then what was Dumbledore waiting for? Or was it already -

"He's inside, and alive, there is no question about that. We heard - noises."

Harry felt a sharp pain in his stomach. Noises - those had been screams of a cruciated Lupin; for anything else, Dumbledore would have used another word. A glance sideways, toward the pale faces of the others, told Harry that they'd come to the same conclusion. Before he could ask, Dumbledore spoke again.

"The house - there's no way of breaking in with any prospect of success. It's a death trap - we'd be lucky to come out still alive, so forget any idea about me, or an Enforcement Squad, storming in to rescue Lupin. That method won't work."

Feeling his throat narrowing, Harry told himself that this was exactly what they'd expected. McGonagall off, most likely near that house, Dumbledore alone - it had been clear the moment they'd entered the office. Not that method ... so there was another one!

He asked, "What's happening now, Professor Dumbledore?"

"The house is under surveillance - by a dog and a cat, taking turns. If something happens, they'll be here within minutes; we have a two-way portkey connection."

"Something happens?" said Ron. "What do you mean, Professor?"

"Voldemort might leave the house, or he might send Lupin out under a curse. In both cases, we would act. But I don't expect any such thing. For me, there's little doubt about Voldemort keeping Lupin as the cheese in a mouse-trap, waiting for any of us to do something foolish. That's the only explanation for the facts ... otherwise, he'd have killed him already."

Dumbledore had said aloud what Harry had feared. With a dry mouth, Harry asked, "Is ... is it hopeless, then?"

"The case isn't lost yet," replied Dumbledore. "Someone who had to wait twelve years asked me to tell you that, Harry. For the next few days, we'll hold guard, and that's all I can say for now."

Just in time, Harry remembered. "Professor - we have a third guard, Almyra Benedict."

Dumbledore showed little surprise. "I expected the offer - we have to talk about it." He turned to the others. "Please don't feel offended if I want to discuss it with Harry alone."

Slightly surprised, Ron and Hermione nodded and left the office.

When they were alone, Dumbledore gave Harry a dry smile. "The offer isn't the true reason why I sent them out, Harry - I have to tell you something nobody else must hear."

The Headmaster had a plan! Harry had felt that there was something more than just waiting and guarding. His head bent forward as he waited for Dumbledore's next words.

"I'm telling you - only you - because you'll be involved. And because I want to be sure that you won't try something desperate. For the next five days, it'll be exactly as I said: we'll guard the house. Then, according to public knowledge, you'll disappear from Hogwarts, Harry."

His eyes wide open, his pulse racing, Harry prompted, "And secretly - "

"Secretly, you'll hide in a room, but only after having made another visit to Nagini, and after giving me some of your hair - and your wand."

Harry's breath stopped. This meant Dumbledore would enter that house under the pretense of being Harry Potter - in person rather than mentally, as Harry had done twice already and would do again. Obviously, Dumbledore was sure that Voldemort knew about these visits - moreover, he considered Lupin's capture as a trap to catch Harry.

"Professor Dumbledore, can you ... can you do that?"

It earned him a brief smile. "Appearing in your shape, certainly. Coming out alive, I think that's the first part of your question - that's why I need your wand, Harry. Getting Remus out - I'm not sure."

"Why not immediately? Why only after five more days?"

"Because a certain condition will be reached only then - more exactly, the day after that."

A condition ... Harry was lost. "Which, Professor?"

"Full moon."

The day on which Lupin could - would - turn into a werewolf. Suddenly, Harry realized how desperate Dumbledore's plan was. So many things could go wrong; rescuing Lupin seemed less a planned result than the possible outcome after a long streak of luck.

"How do you protect yourself against a werewolf?"

"I'll need Sirius' help. He knows already."

Another thought struck Harry. "Professor, do you know Parseltongue?"

Dumbledore smile was almost envious. "Unfortunately not, and that's the weak point in my plan. It's also the reason why Remus has to be a werewolf - it's the only way of passing the guarding snake. Werewolves are highly resistant to normal attacks and poisons."

Five days - an incredibly long time to know that a friend was being held prisoner, most likely tortured, always at the risk of being killed because Voldemort no longer believed that his trap might work.

"Coming to that offer, Harry ..." Dumbledore thought for a moment. "I have to admit that another Animagus - in particular a bird - would be a great help. The question is whether I have the right to accept the offer. Please tell me what you think of it."

"Professor - do you know that Almyra can become an owl or a falcon?"

The Headmaster looked pleased. "I knew about the owl, and I had a feeling it wasn't the full truth. But it doesn't answer the most important question, Harry."

"No, although it shows how qualified she is for the task. Otherwise - she knows what she's risking, Sirius made this very clear, Professor. She was scared a lot, then we meditated - her main question was whether she was ready to do it. Afterwards, her answer was yes."

"So you're confident that she's up to it?"

Something in Dumbledore's question made Harry hesitate and examine the question again. After a moment, he said, "Al and I - we've found out we think in similar ways, Professor. She's ready to do the part I can't do. She knows it, and I know it ... I could send her."

The approval showed in Dumbledore's voice. "You've found the unspoken question, Harry - which tells me that you know what you're talking about. Well then, I'll do it."

Harry wasn't ready yet to leave. There was something else he wanted to discuss, or maybe two things.

"Professor Dumbledore, you won't enter that house to kill Voldemort, right?"

Calmly, Dumbledore answered, "You know the answer, Harry, so why do you ask?"

"Because ..." Harry didn't continue.

Dumbledore said, "It isn't my fate to confront Voldemort in the final decision. I'm merely a tutor of the one who has been selected by fate - you."

"How long have you known, Professor?"

"When I heard about Voldemort's attempt to kill you, that was my first thought, especially because he failed. See, regardless of how easily Voldemort kills people, he never did it without a reason, quite in contrast to many of his followers. That's why I asked myself instantly what reason he had for killing a baby - more accurately, for trying it, only to fail so miserably. I examined the question again and again, without finding another answer."

"I didn't know. I didn't even know a few days ago when I decided I would be the one to do it. But Cho knew - she said she knew it since I returned from the tournament. How can that be, Professor?"

Dumbledore smiled. "You should be the last to whom I have to explain the power of love, Harry."

"Yes ... I promised - " Harry blushed. "I promised Cho to do it only when I'll be ready to do it and come back to her."

The smile deepened to a beam. "A decision that's remarkable for any age, not to mention yours, Harry. You see how this power finds many ways of enforcing and protecting you."

"There's still another question I'd like to ask, Professor."

In the blink of an eye, the Headmaster's expression changed to a non-committal smile. "Ask you may, Harry."

It was obvious - Dumbledore knew what Harry wanted to know, and the answer wouldn't tell him anything. Still, he had to speak it out.

"My blood in Voldemort - what does it mean?"

"You'll find the answer to that by yourself, Harry. That will be another step on your path toward the state which is required to achieve your goal. All I'm ready to tell you is this: if it would protect you, if its effect would be that Voldemort can't kill you, I would send you into that house right now."