Snape had let him out with plenty of time before curfew after a session dedicated more to sending messages by Patronus than to resisting the Imperius Curse, so Harry walked the corridors of Hogwarts openly towards the Room where Ron and Hermione would be waiting for him.
As he approached the more reliable of the staircases to the seventh floor, however, he found his friends sitting in a window alcove. Harry slowed his steps as he approached, noticing the setting sun casting a reddish silhouette around their facing cross-legged forms, heads bent together. Just as he was wondering whether he should actually leave the pair with their almost tangible budding relationship, Ron looked up, noticed and then beckoned to Harry.
“Hey, you're out early,” he said, questioningly.
“Yeah, he's almost admitted that I’m improving,” grinned Harry. He stepped closer and noticed that it was not surprising Ron had noticed him before Hermione; between them sat a few heavy textbooks and quite a mountain of parchment and paper.
Hermione made a space on the alcove's bench for Harry to perch, while both she and Ron expressed their congratulations. Harry smiled and looked out onto the grounds which were bathed in the autumnal reds of dying leaves and the setting sun.
“Great view,” he commented.
Ron and Hermione exchanged a look before Ron replied, “Yes, it is. Although that's not why we came here. The Room's locked.”
“What?”
“We can't get in, mate, no matter how many times we walked up and down. We both had a go, didn't work.”
“Dumbledore wouldn't have shut it off,” said Harry with confidence, “it must be someone from the DA, they're the only ones... or...”
“I reckon it’s Carmichael and his Hufflepuff girl,” Ron said knowingly, “do you know how many times they’ve been burst in on this last week?”
“Yeah, perhaps.”
“So, tell us about today’s lesson then, Harry,” said Hermione, “and then we can get down to that Charms essay.”
Two weeks later and Snape had deemed Harry “Acceptable” at resisting the Imperious. Harry was feeling rather more pleased than he probably should at such a low-grade compliment. The sessions had been mentally gruelling but he was now able to block an Imperious with his mind alone, regardless of whether he was holding a wand or not. As he walked to Dumbledore's office he also reflected on the fact that he now approached the lessons with Snape with much less nervousness than he had. Perhaps it was down to the declining frequency of humiliating experiences as Harry progressed or simply because their lessons had become rather routine. Although not boring.
The gargoyle let him in while confirming the Headmaster's continuing obsession with confectionery. Travelling up the staircase, he turned his thoughts to their upcoming meeting. Harry realised now that Dumbledore was unlikely to further his Defence education in any practical respect, though the man did seem sure that these memories he was showing Harry would prove invaluable.
Harry knocked on the office door at the same time as the Headmaster called for him to enter.
“Hello, Harry,” said the grandfatherly-looking man. He had risen to meet Harry and gestured to the chair on the other side of his desk. “Tea, my boy?” he asked as he poured them a healthy cup each. Harry noticed that there was also a plate with a wonderfully wide selection of biscuits.
“Before we start with the main business, so to speak, I would just like to confirm that all is well with you. How are your studies going? Not getting too distracted by the likes of Quidditch and girls and other such important subjects, I hope?”
“No, sir,” said Harry, trying to suppress a blush at the thought of discussing girls with his Headmaster, “we’ve been getting tons of homework, but Hermione is keeping Ron and me on top of it all.”
“Good, good. I have no doubts about your academic abilities, you’ll do very well in your exams, I’m sure. And how are your other lessons, with Professor Snape, going?” Harry had been expecting this mild interrogation, thus his reflections on them on his way to the Headmaster.
“Professor Snape says that I’m improving and that I should be able to overcome any Imperious thrown at me. I haven’t given in to it since last week.” Harry considered his next words and allowed some of his anxiety to show through, “He says that we’re ready to move on.”
“Excellent!” Dumbledore seemed genuinely pleased. “I’m confident that you’ll do me proud. Now, today we’re going to take a look at a puzzling memory I acquired some time ago...”
Harry was only half-listening to Dumbledore’s introduction to the next set of memories they would be viewing. His fears of Snape and his lessons had simply been brushed aside by the kind-faced man opposite him. Yes, he had been doing well in Snape’s lessons but now they were going to be moving on to a different kind of torture. What dark magic would Snape throw at him next?
Attempting to push his growing frustration to a corner of his mind to contemplate later, Harry made an effort to listen and then to view the mysterious memory dispassionately.
An hour later and Harry was giving full vent to his anger. Ron and Hermione sat back on Ron’s bed, taking in all he was saying but not paying a great deal of attention to his mood. They had asked Neville if he could finish his reading in the common room, while they used the sixth year boys’ bedroom for a private discussion. As had happened on two or three previous occasions, the Room of Requirement had been locked when they tried it.
“Harry, stop,” said Hermione, getting her words in between another rant could start up. “Sit down.” Harry looked at her with the beginnings of disappointment but seemed to reassess the look in her eye. He flopped on to his own bed.
“Good. Now, I understand you’re angry. Professor Dumbledore didn’t acknowledge your fears,” Harry’s sound of outrage did not stop her, “about Professor Snape and your lessons and then he went on to give you a task which he seems to have failed at himself.”
“Nice summary, Hermione,” said Ron, “although it doesn’t help Harry here with how to get old Sluggy to give up a memory that he doesn’t want to.”
“Sometimes just stating the facts and the problem can help you move forward, Ron, it’s—”
“Okay, okay guys! Don’t get started, please,” pleaded Harry.
Hermione harrumphed but acquiesced, “Have you come up with any ideas?”
“Umm... asking him for it?” suggested Harry.
“I hardly think he’s going to just hand over a memory which he’s denied the Headmaster, do you?”
“Well, I’m special, aren’t I?” asked Harry, with a surprisingly good ‘poor, innocent me’ look. Ron’s sniggers had him, quite conveniently, collapsing onto Hermione next to him.
“Are you able to explain why I have been relentlessly casting the Imperious Curse at you?”
Harry had to wonder why Snape always seemed so dubious of his intelligence. He may not have been the brightest pupil at Hogwarts, but he was hardly lagging at the bottom of the pile. No matter what he said now, Snape would still believe he was a complete ignoramus.
“Because if I can protect my mind from the Imperious, then the logic is that I should be able to protect it from a Legilimency attack, sir. And it’s not a bad idea to be able to defend yourself from an Unforgivable.”
Snape gave a small sniff and looked down his nose at Harry, telling him all he needed about the correctness of his answer.
“Let’s see if the theory holds true.”
Harry was far too used to Snape’s technique not to have expected the raised wand and the loud hiss of ‘Legilimens’. Nonetheless, the spell still managed to let Snape straight in while Harry floundered in his mind as images and snatches of memory flew across his internal vision.
He was running away from the local shops, looking over his shoulder at Dudley and his friends; he was storming down Dumbledore’s spiral staircase; he was carving letters onto the back of his hand with a blood quill; he was in a graffiti-covered tunnel trying to summon up a Patronus; he was struggling for breath in the lake as he raced to...
The tumult stopped. Harry saw Snape’s wand lower and kept his eyes on it. He was annoyed, but not surprised, that he was no better at protecting his mind from a mental attack. Snape seemed equally annoyed and unsurprised. He stood with his eyelids lowered, forehead creased and his fingers squeezing the bridge of his nose. After a moment, he took a breath and looked at Harry intensely.
“Very well, Mr Potter. Your mind clearly requires more training.” He raised his wand again.
“Wait!” said Harry. “Sir! Perhaps you could explain what I should do?”
Harry did not expect Snape to stop and explain but he needed something, even if it was just a short reprieve from the awful invasion. To his surprise Snape took up a stance in front of his desk, using the edge as a misericord.
“Perhaps you could use those two brain cells lurking between your ears? How do you stop me from penetrating your mind with the Imperious?”
Snape’s deep gaze urged Harry to think seriously about the question. He did. It was now instinctual but how did he actually do it? Harry was not sure he knew. It had always been instinct even that first time Moody had done it. Snape’s lessons had simply honed this ability. Harry sighed and asked a question which he had never dreamt asking anyone, let alone his professor who so revelled in the bleaker side of nature and dark magic.
“Would you mind casting it again, sir?”
The smirk which graced Snape’s face was predatory in the extreme. His satisfaction at having his most detested student essentially begging for Snape to cast an Unforgivable at him was far too evident for Harry’s tastes. So he flicked his eyes away to the side and missed the slight wand movement and almost did not hear the whisper of ‘Imperio’ as Snape cast the curse with as much power as he could bring to bear. Not an insignificant amount at all.
Harry struggled. He kept the curse from penetrating his mind with pure force of will, focusing only on the outer boundaries of his mind. The power of the curse was immense and it took long seconds to strengthen those boundaries, to keep the curse from encroaching into the naturally occurring gaps. Only when he was sure of their impenetrability did he use the magic inherent in his mind’s boundaries to turn the curse away, deflecting it from the protective barriers. When he felt sure that all the power of the curse had been deflected, he relaxed and opened his eyes where a new understanding shone.
There was silence in the office. Not the previous silences of humiliation, failure or vented anger which Harry had endured, nor even the silence of the small successes he had had in this room. This was a quiet which seemed to glow with his own self-awareness and Snape’s approval. The man nodded.
“You did not repel it as quickly as on previous occasions but I trust the lesson was learnt?”
Harry was breathless, he nodded, slack-jawed.
“Very well. I will not keep you. You may return to your dormitory. Before the next lesson you will go over exactly what you did. You will repeat that memory as many times as you are able, by this I mean before sleeping, upon waking, while showering, dressing, eating and walking down corridors, though not, obviously during Defence Against the Dark Arts. Do you understand?”
Harry did. There was a protective boundary around his mind of which he had been completely unaware before. Had it always been there? Had it suddenly sprouted fully formed today? Could he make it stronger? Could simply repeating that memory, reflecting and analysing what he had done today, make it stronger? Harry was willing to bet that it would.
“Yes. Thank you, sir. See you on Wednesday.” And Harry was grateful, the insight was staggering. And he was looking forward to Wednesday. What would he be able to accomplish then?
With the moment of the epiphany over, Snape returned to his normal self and nodded brusquely as Harry left.
Harry, Ron and Hermione had a small party that night. Hermione let them off studying for a couple of hours, Ron nicked some treats from the kitchen and Harry regaled them with the tale. Endlessly it seemed, as Hermione was of the mind that if Snape’s advice and Harry’s conviction of repeating the memory was good, then speaking of the experience had to be even better.
Harry kept his word. There was not a moment the next day when he was not thinking about the barrier he had touched, which he had finally noticed. In all, Harry managed to lose fifteen points for his inattention by the end of the day but he counted that as a small price for a mental barrier whose presence could perhaps save more than his own life.
Upon waking on Wednesday he went over his newfound routine of analysing and remembering exactly the sequence of events in those special eight or ten seconds from his lesson with Snape. He had also decided to use his positive mood and confidence to good effect after their Potions lesson by asking, as persuasively as he could, for a particular memory from Slughorn.
The lesson had not gone quite according to plan. Having not understood a word of Golpalott’s Third Law and finding no tightly slanted, handwritten letters to help him do so, Harry resorted to desperate measures. Using the Prince’s mention of a bezoar was audacious but Harry hoped it would help him maintain his place as Slughorn’s favourite.
Mercifully, Slughorn had been impressed with his offering to the problem, though his friends had been less pleased and left without wishing him luck. Unfortunately, his professor’s good mood did not last the conversation and Harry left the classroom with the echoes of Slughorn’s bellowed denials ringing in his ears.