Harry's focus on casting a successful patronus charm became almost manic. His shame from the quidditch party drove him to practice constantly. In his room, during his free periods… if Harry wasn't doing homework or at quidditch practice, he could be found somewhere on the grounds of Hogwarts, muttering "Expecto Patronum" under his breath. Ironically, however, the emotions that were drove him to practice the charm also prevented him from casting it successfully. No matter how much he practiced, he was unable to produce more than a mist.
After one particularly frustrating lesson with Lupin, once he had returned to the Slytherin dormitory, Harry couldn't contain his anger. He wound up storming around his bed, venting frustrations to Draco. "It's just a stupid charm," Harry said. "My best class is charms! There aren't any special wand movements or anything. I just have to 'think of something happy!'" Harry kicked at the foot of his bed. "Hooray! I can't play quidditch and all sorts of dark wizards want to murder me! Everything is wonderful."
"You need a break, Harry," said Draco.
"Yeah, a break from being Harry Potter."
"I was thinking we could do something a little more feasible." Draco smiled. "Why don't we take that book of curses down to the lake?"
It was daylight, still, for at least a few more hours. Harry grabbed the book of curses and followed Draco out of the dormitory. After a quick detour to one of Filch's supply closets, Draco and Harry stood at the edge of the lake, the curse book open between them. Several feet away stood a pair of makeshift targets; Draco had tied a two practice quaffles to a couple of old mops.
"Okay, so this one is a cutting curse," Draco said. "Diffindo!" Draco slashed his wand. Nothing happened to the targets, but a line appeared in the sand ten feet past them. "Hmm. Must be something with the wind…" Draco muttered.
Harry repeated Draco's words and motion. When Harry slashed his wand, a notch appeared on one of the shovels.
"Nice!" Draco said.
"I was aiming for the other one," said Harry.
The boys worked their way through the book of curses, skipping some the curses that were too complex ("flesh-stripping sandstorm curse") or too gruesome ("eye boiling curse") or useless against their makeshift targets ("foot swelling curse").
"Ooh, this one looks good," said Harry, pointing to a page in the book. Harry read the directions and then faced his targets. Harry raised his wand above his head, point up.
"Incendio." A small ball of fire appeared at the tip of Harry's wand. Harry swung his wand in a great circle around his head. As he did so, the ball of fire grew in size. As Harry finished the circle, he snapped his wand down and pointed it at his target.
"Incendio!"
A flame the size of a basketball shot away from Harry's wand and struck one of the quaffles. The shovel and quaffle immediately burst into flames. Both Harry and Draco raised their arms, shielding their faces from the explosion of light and heat.
"Awesome," said Draco as he lowered his hand.
"No kidding," said Harry. "Too bad that doesn't work on Dementors." Harry glanced around. The sun was beginning to set and he didn't want to be caught in the dark, especially after Snape's lecture in the library. "Let's put this out and go back to the castle."
Harry's confidence in his spellcasting was bolstered by his afternoon with Draco. When Harry entered Lupin's office for his next lesson, he was absolutely certain that he would produce a solid patronus.
Twenty minutes later, as Harry sat on the floor of Lupin's office covered in a cold sweat, he was more disappointed than ever before. Apparently, the ability to throw fireballs did not correspond to the ability to create a Patronus stronger than a weak mist.
"Here, Harry. Have some chocolate." As always, Lupin was immediately at hand to help Harry recover. Harry smiled weakly at his professor and accepted the chocolate without a word.
Harry was finding it difficult to remain aloof from Professor Lupin. Yes, Lupin was a werewolf, and yes, there was obvious tension between Lupin and Snape… but Lupin's defense lessons were the best Harry had ever had. Knowing that his father had been friends with Lupin was confusing, as well. Harry felt closer to Lupin than any teacher other than Professor Snape, and possibly Dumbledore.
Lupin sat back at the edge of his desk and clasped his hands in front of him. "Harry, this is a personal question, but I think your answer may shed some light on the difficulty you are having with this charm. Your technique is almost perfect, and your incantation is precise, which makes me wonder… what happy memory are you using to power your Patronus?"
"The day I found out I was a wizard," Harry said. "Mostly my first trip to Diagon Alley with Hagrid. It was the first time I had really seen magic, or been around wizards, and he bought Hedwig for me for my birthday, and I met Draco that day and he's my best mate, so…"
Lupin nodded. "Harry, I think your memory might not be strong enough. That certainly seems like a great day, but it was great because of a lot of little moments. Thinking of a series of small happy moments will cause your Patronus to manifest itself as a fine mist. To create a true, corporeal Patronus, you must concentrate on a single memory, a single moment of happiness that fills your heart so greatly that you can withstand any sadness."
"Where am I supposed to get one of those?" Harry asked.
"Each person has his or her own moment," Lupin said, "Just as each person has his or her own Patronus."
"What is your moment, Professor?"
"That's rather personal, Harry…" Lupin paused. "But, you did share your moment with me." Professor Lupin's voice grew soft, and he looked off into the distance. "I had a… difficult childhood. I was only able to attend Hogwarts because Headmaster Dumbledore intervened on my behalf. On the day I graduated, many things happened that I had never thought possible: I received my diploma; I formally entered wizarding society; I was surrounded by friends who were as near to me as brothers; and my parents were able to be proud of me. When I accepted my diploma, and I turned and saw my friends and parents, everybody smiling… that's my moment, Harry.
"Take a few minutes. Try to think of a single, strong memory. Focus on one moment. Let me know when you are ready to begin again."
Harry turned thoughts over and over in his head. When was he happiest? He had beaten Gryffindor in quidditch last year, but his arm was broken almost immediately, so he hadn't had an opportunity to enjoy it. Frankly, any quidditch memory was sullied by his current grounding—none of those would do. He might as well use his memories of time with the Dursleys, for all the good it would do him.
Harry smiled suddenly. "Professor, I have one I'd like to try."
"Good." Lupin walked to the wardrobe and opened the door, releasing the dementor/boggart. Harry focused on his new memory: his Uncle Vernon, frozen and hanging upside down from the chandelier in the front hallway.
"Expecto patronum!" A blob of white light flowed out of Harry's wand, hovering between Harry and the black-cloaked boggart. It was almost like a shield. The boggart was forced backward slightly, and, more importantly, Harry could feel the cold despair of the dementor's aura begin to lift.
"Excellent, Harry!" Lupin cast a quick riddikulus and closed the boggart back in the closet. "That's significantly better. Between now and next week, make a list of several specific memories. We'll try them out to see what works best for you."
"Professor," said Harry, "How close am I to being cleared to fly?"
"If next week's charms are all that strong, Harry, I'll sign your clearance form that night."
When Harry arrived back in the Slytherin common room, he could barely contain his excitement. He immediately pulled out a parchment and started listing his greatest accomplishments, the moments that should make him the happiest:
Defeated
Harry paused. He almost wrote "Voldemort" before remembering that, officially, he had defeated Professor Quirrell during his first year.
Defeated Quirrell
Caught snitch against Gryffindor
Neither of those would make good memories. He had been knocked unconscious immediately after each achievement. Actually, if Harry counted the two times that Dementors had attacked this year, Harry had been knocked unconscious four times in thirty-ish months. This was a rather alarming history of head injuries… especially when combined with the world-famous scar on his forehead.
Harry wiped a hand over his face. He had to focus. Happy thoughts.
Defeated Quirrell – Unconscious
Caught snitch against Gryffindor – Unconscious
Firebolt found to be curse free – Too angry about quidditch
Made quidditch team – Too angry
Diagon Alley – Not specific
Vernon on chandelier – Maybe?
First Christmas at Hogwarts
There was an interesting thought. Harry had told Ron last year about how happy his memories were of his first Christmas at Hogwarts. Harry had received his father's invisibility cloak, his first real Christmas presents ever from the Malfoys, and Harry and Ron had gone exploring all over the castle during holidays. But that was probably too spread out. It seemed like it would have the same problem as Diagon Alley.
Harry stared at the list. There was something he was forgetting. Something obvious. What was it?
Ginny Weasley.
Of course. Harry had defeated Voldemort, but Ginny's body was lifeless in his arms. He was certain that he was too late, but Fawkes' tears brought her back from the brink of death. Harry had gone from the deepest despair to the height of happiness in a matter of seconds.
That was it. That was his memory. Ginny Weasley would fuel his Patronus.
A/N: Short chapter this week. I meant to post this on Monday, and then post Chapter 15 today. Whoops. Instead, I'll post this today, and Chapter 15 Monday. Next Friday will be Chapter 16, and we'll be back on our regular schedule.
In other news, I want to thank some of my regular reviewers. Shout outs to Son of Whitebeard, Kairan, Gwenlynn, , and Diddleymaz. The frequent reviews that you give, even if they are only a few words of encouragement, really keep my spirits up. Thanks, guys.