Walking back to Gryffindor Tower, Harry could not decide how he felt. Snape had not only used the Dark Arts but had actually placed him under one of the three Unforgiveables. He had, moreover, done so with Dumbledore’s blessing. Harry briefly considered whether the man Snape had Floo-called might have been someone impersonating the Headmaster but had conceded, by the time he had reached the first floor, that it was quite unlikely. The following flights of stairs gave him time to consider whether he was more outraged at Snape’s tactics, Dumbledore’s compliance or Snape actually having the gall to command him to kneel. On the other hand, he was rather pleased that he had been able to break the Curse each time, even if it had taken longer than it should have on the first two occasions.
Ron and Hermione were waiting for him in the common room, surprised at his early return. Harry could tell from Hermione’s expression that she suspected he had somehow managed to enrage Snape again. Wanting to head off any such accusations, he decided to take advantage of the short lesson by saying they should go to the Room of Requirement until curfew.
Walking back and forth in front of the blank wall, Harry concentrated on his need for a comfortable and private place to talk. When he opened the door that appeared on his third pass he saw a room not that dissimilar from their House common room.
“Oh, this is nice,” exclaimed Hermione as she chose the end of the comfy settee closest to the fireplace to sit down. She snuggled into the deep cushions a little as Ron joined her while Harry sat across from them on the matching red and gold armchair.
They sat a while, simply watching the low flames in the fire grate. Harry appreciated his friends not jumping on him immediately. They seemed to have sensed that he needed time to sort out his thoughts. For his part, he was not sure how to explain what Snape had done that evening; simply blurting out ‘The greasy git stuck me under Imperious’ hardly seemed like a good idea.
“You know,” he started tentatively, staring at the fire, “that Snape’s got this new plan, for teaching me Occlumency?”
“Yeah, casting your Patronus over and over,” said Ron, “not sure how much good that will do though, are you?”
“Didn’t he say that it was similar in a sense, because you had to manipulate your emotions?” asked Hermione.
“Yes, well, he says that emotions provide the easiest path for a Legilimens to crack open a mind and so they should be hidden away, making it easier to block an attack.”
“So how does your stag help?” asked Ron.
“Well, it’s obvious,” said Hermione, “if you can control your emotions then you can hide them, right, Harry?”
“Yep, something like,” Harry smiled faintly at her.
“So, what has you so shaken tonight then, mate? Did the git get you casting too many?”
“No, he’s kind of... um... extended that reasoning,” said Harry, shrinking a little under their sharp gazes.
“And...?” encouraged Hermione.
“And he thinks that being able to resist the Imperious Curse is also a mental defence using emotions and so,” Harry was speaking rapidly now, getting the words out, “he put me under the Curse and I had to break it.”
Their reactions were instant and predictable. Harry could only be glad he had had the foresight to bring them to the Room where no one could overhear their outrage. Ron was on his feet, arms taut with tension, unconsciously echoing the pose Harry had taken earlier in front of Snape. Hermione was pale and had a hand over her mouth, her eyes showing her dismay. She did not seem to know what to say and did not rebuke Ron as he swore loudly and fiercely.
Harry sighed and Hermione pulled herself together, straightening her skirt and putting her hands in her lap.
“Stop it Ron, that’s not helping.”
“Bloody git... You alright, mate?” asked Ron, solicitously
“Yeah, I’m fine.”
“You need to speak to Dumbledore; that’s not on, what Snape did.”
Harry sighed, “I already have.” At their blank looks he continued, “Snape must have known that I wouldn’t just let him do that, Dumbledore was waiting for the Floo-call. I spoke to him and,” he spoke over Ron’s imminent interruption, “I’m sure it was him.”
His friends were still in shock and Harry let them take the time they needed to absorb it. It was, unsurprisingly, Hermione who sat up first and dealt with the practicalities.
“So, did you manage to break it? No, don’t answer that, we know you did,” she gave a small smile, “but he didn’t order you to do anything, well, not right, did he?”
“He mostly just went for embarrassment really. I broke it each time,” Harry realised from their faces that he had not mentioned before that Snape had cast Imperio more than once, “yeah,” he rushed on, “and it was easiest when what he wanted me to do was ridiculous or, or abhorrent.”
Hermione looked at him dubiously at that. Harry shrugged, “Not evil but, well, the last time he told me to kneel.” He could not help but display his disgust at the thought, nor could Ron.
“Actually,” Harry said, speaking over Ron’s spluttering, “that was the easiest one to break. It’s harder, much harder, when what he’s telling you to do is reasonable. Like straightening your tie or sitting down.”
Harry could see that Hermione was considering and analysing that. She slowly nodded her head, “I see, so the more in keeping the order is with your morals or daily actions the more insidious it is?”
“Yeah, but I think it also depends on who’s doing the commanding. I mean, if Voldemort had told me to straighten my tie that time in the graveyard, I think I would have broken the curse just as easily. Snape is a teacher and I do know, at least theoretically,” he said, smirking at Hermione, “that I should do what he says, especially things like that.”
They continued talking about how Harry had responded to the curse and by the time that they needed to leave the Room of Requirement to get back before curfew he felt much better about the evening. The Dark magic truly had affected him; casting his Patronus and getting out of Snape’s office had helped with the after-effects but simply being with his friends made Harry feel completely himself. They resolved to meet in the comfortable room after each of Harry’s lessons.
Harry had, predictably enough, been mocked by Malfoy for his needing ‘remedial Defence’ lessons. Most of his classmates, however, were more of the mind that he might be receiving advanced Defence lessons, considering that it was his best subject. He had to repeatedly deny those suggestions, as well as to explain why he would not be continuing with the DA this year.
“I’m sorry, Neville, I just don’t have the time. In any case, Snape’s nearly as good as Lupin was,” he could not bring himself to praise the man any more than that, “nowhere near as bad as Umbridge was, anyway.”
Both of these reasons were true. He did indeed lack time to continue the DA. His three sessions a week with Snape took up a great deal of time, the teachers were giving out homework left, right and centre, and there was also Quidditch to think about too. He had almost declined the captainship, as Hermione had prudently advised, but he had to have something to look forward to. As he had told Snape, in embarrassing detail, there was nothing better than flying and catching the snitch.
He had not been lying when he told Neville that Snape was almost as good as Lupin. Though Snape certainly did not imbue his classroom with Remus’s welcoming and nurturing environment and he was as full of snide remarks about Gryffindor foolishness as ever, the DADA classes were quite good. Perhaps it was down to the sixth-year material which was more in-depth and revealed more about the Dark Arts and its practitioners than ever before. Harry was keeping an eye out for blatant Dark magic teaching, as Sirius had warned, but he could not accuse Snape of crossing that line in classes. Yet.
However, his private lessons were a different matter. Snape had continued to focus on his mastering resistance to the Imperious Curse. The lessons were comparatively short. He never seemed to spend more than three-quarters of an hour in the man’s office and Harry had calculated that he never seemed to be under the Unforgivable for more than fifteen minutes a session. Which was, Harry considered, still too long; being subjected to fifteen minutes of Dark magic three times a week was no good for anyone. He found he was becoming very dependent on his meetings afterwards in the Room of Requirement to make him feel normal. The comfortable sofas, the cosy fire and his friends’ company were the best antidote to such Dark magic.
If feeling off-balance was the result of being a victim to such magic, Harry did not like to think what it was doing to the caster. Snape, when using the Dark Arts, had a truly terrifying presence. Harry was aware of the man keeping a tight rein on himself but even Snape’s blankest expression exuded malicious power; he was sure that he never wanted to see the man lose control while wielding Dark magic.
Harry knew that the Dark Arts carried a heavy toll on the caster’s soul and he was beginning to think that such damage could almost be seen in a wizard. He wondered what Snape did after their sessions. He always made Harry cast his full Patronus and allowed him to bask in its silvery glow for a minute or so. After that, Harry would try to send a message to Snape although, in that Harry was progressing rather slowly. Harry could see that his stag benefited Snape as well but wondered if Snape was able to cast his own Patronus and whether he did so after Harry had left. Did he have stash of chocolate hidden in cauldron somewhere? Was there anything else the man could do to negate the effects?
They had experimented with using the fireplace in the Room of Requirement to Floo-call Sirius. However, it seemed that though the Room could conjure the fireplace, flames and Floo powder it was not able to create the external connection. The mirror was fine as a communication device really, just a bit small. And it did show each party in full colour, as opposed to the otherworldly green of the Floo.
Harry decided to call Sirius on Sunday evening and he went up to the Room of Requirement for privacy after dinner. He had a great deal to tell his godfather: all about the Quidditch trials the day before, Hagrid’s distress with Aragog’s poor health, the Slug Club dinner which he had been unable to get out of (boring as hell but at least Hermione had kept him company) not to mention schoolwork. He also wanted Sirius’s opinion on the crackdown the Ministry were taking, especially Stan Shunpike’s arrest. What he was not certain of, however, was how much to tell Sirius about his private lessons with Dumbledore and Snape.
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Dumbledore’s exemption to his telling other people about their meetings only extended to Ron and Hermione. Harry was not keen to deceive Sirius but decided that it was essentially Order business and thus Sirius would understand the secrecy if he knew of it. Sirius did, however, know about his private lessons with Snape. And Harry knew that his godfather would not take his long-time enemy casting Dark magic on him well.
“So, how is Snivellus treating you, Harry?”
Harry sighed. Both of his friends had agreed that telling Sirius the whole story was not wise but had not offered any practical advice when he said he did not want to lie.
“I wish you wouldn’t call him that, Sirius,” said Harry, trying to avoid the question. Although, the name did rankle too, it was just so childish.
“Fine,” said Sirius, his reflection showing his put-upon expression, “how’s the most perfect specimen of Slytherin ideals since Salazar Slytherin himself treating you?” And that was not a compliment, given Sirius’s opinion of Slytherins.
Harry let it go and shrugged, “Not bad.”
Sirius, Harry noticed, was able to infuse his raised eyebrow with just as much meaning as his arch-rival could. Not that either would appreciate the passing thought.
“He’s fine. He’s actually worse in classes,” as he said it, Harry realised it was true. It was probably, he decided, to do with Snape’s firm control over himself while practising the Dark Arts rather than anything so shocking as Snape changing his opinion of him or his abilities. “He’s decided to tackle it from a different angle and, umm, well, I’m learning some useful skills so I don’t mind.”
“Such as?” Sirius sounded sceptical.
“Well, I’m learning to send a message with my Patronus. Can’t do it very well at the moment, though I’m getting better.”
Harry had to laugh at Sirius’s flabbergasted expression. His godfather had clearly not been expecting his epitome of the ‘Dark Wizard’ to be teaching something so pure to his godson.
Harry took advantage of Sirius being blindsided by asking what he had been up to.
“Oh, this and that. Still haven’t won a duel with Moony yet. Though I did get him jigging like an old sailor for a good twenty minutes; unfortunately, the fact that he had already blinded me with the old Conjunctivitis Curse and fused my trouser legs together made it rather easy for him to disarm me.”
The description had Harry laughing again. Talking to Sirius really was a great way to end a week. Although Harry had extra pressures and worries this year, he knew that with Sirius around he would manage everything a lot more easily.
“Apart from that, I’m doing well. In fact, if Dumbledore can influence the Minister in a small matter, then things will be really looking up.”
“Influence him about what?” asked Harry.
“Ah, ah. It will be a great surprise but I don’t want to get your hopes up yet!”
Harry let him keep his secret, feeling a little less guilty for keeping his own. They moved on to other topics and chatted and laughed happily until it was time for Harry to get back to his dorm.