Harry rolled over onto his back, carrying his copy of Advanced Potion Making, which he had been reading, with him.  After trying to hold it up above his head, against the sun, he decided it was too heavy and let it fan out over his chest instead.  The late afternoon was pleasantly warm and Harry noticed that Ron was in exactly the same position, though, in addition, he had his eyes closed and was softly snoring.  Hermione was still scribbling away on a piece of parchment with various Arithmancy books open.

The soft breeze encouraged his thoughts of that morning.  Dumbledore’s lesson had been a surprise.  None of their theories had come close to what the Headmaster had actually shown him that morning.  He was still disappointed that Dumbledore was not going to be teaching him advanced Defence or even Offence.  However, he did trust Dumbledore and the information had been interesting; even if it was creepy thinking about Voldemort’s family.  It meant he had been human once, which Harry was intellectually aware of but found very difficult to comprehend when he saw (or was in the mind of!) the monster.

Having shared the details of the memories with Ron and Hermione, he was now content basking in the calm excitement of a new year at Hogwarts with his closest friends in the world.  He was aware of his responsibilities, of the faith that Dumbledore had in him, but this Saturday afternoon was theirs.  No doubt all hell would break out sooner or later.

Suddenly, he gasped and let out an involuntary screech.  He was curling up on himself, his hands trying to reach every part of his body.

“What the...!” got out Ron, as he too struggled to control the spasms of his body as he writhed on the ground.

Just as abruptly as it had begun, the tickling stopped.  Harry looked around him, there was no one near their group and Hermione was still bent over one of her books.  She was biting her lip terribly hard, however.

“Hermione!” they both squealed before trying again in more manly tones. 

“What the sodding hell was that for?” questioned Ron, shocked. 

“Oh, you know,” Harry noticed that she was having a hard time keeping a straight face, “constant vigilance and all that.  Also,” her eyes were watering so much that there were tears on her cheeks, “it’s time for dinner and,” she frowned, “one of you was snoring very loudly.”

Harry and Ron exchanged looks of aggrieved bemusement.

“You know, I think we’ve had a bad influence on her, mate.”  Harry could not help but agree.

The weekend flew by, even the two hours he spent in Snape’s Sunday detention.  Monday’s lessons also managed to pass quickly.  Before he knew it, he was staring at Snape’s wooden door again and pondering how it was that he seemed to be seeing more of his most hated teacher than any other adult at the moment.  Stifling a sigh, because the last lesson had been surprisingly good, he knocked, waited and entered at the brittle command.

“Good evening, sir,” said Harry, thinking a little respect might start the evening off on a good note.

“Mr Potter,” nodded Snape, gesturing at the chair again.  “Perhaps you would could start by explaining any thoughts you had concerning our last lesson?”  The cordiality made Snape grimace, almost as if it were actually painful to be that polite.  Harry had to wonder what Dumbledore had done to make the man make an effort. 

“Umm, yeah,” Snape’s scowl encouraged Harry to speak more clearly.  “Well, I noticed that the more I cast my Patronus, the less I needed to focus on one particular happy memory.  I mean that towards the end I was just imagining happiness as an emotion and that was enough.”  Harry looked up to see if this was making any sense to the professor.

Snape nodded so Harry continued, “Also, I think that with the happier memories you chose, I was able to use, to draw out, the emotions contained within them.  But when you picked memories where I was scared or sad, then it took me slightly longer because I had to use, I don’t know, my emotions or memories from somewhere else.  Does that make sense, sir?”

“It does.  Being able to pick and choose the emotions you wish to feel is a necessary skill for an Occlumens.”

Harry opened his mouth but was interrupted before he even began.

“I do not mean, you stupid boy,” the man could not even manage five minutes, thought Harry, “that you ought to determine your emotions to daily situations through intellectual means.  However, an accomplished Occlumens should be able to temper strong, unhelpful emotions; to imbue memories with more or less of a particular feeling; and to generally use their emotions as a defence mechanism.”

“Then why, all last year, did you tell me to ‘clear my mind’?” asked Harry, outraged that Snape appeared to be admitting his faulty teaching.

“Because, you imbecile, though they may provide your defence, emotions are often the surest way to attack another mind.  Your emotions lead directly to your memories, to your thoughts; if they are left freely for an enemy Legilimens to sift through, they will lead directly to your soul.”

Harry thought of the hundreds of times Snape had broken into his mind.  It did seem that when Harry was angry or scared, Snape had an easier time of it, though that was basically every time.  Likewise, on the two occasions that Harry had successfully broken into Snape’s mind, Harry was sure it was only because of the man’s shock that he had been able to see anything at all.  And the intrusions had been broken off quickly.

“So why am I am now trying to inundate myself with emotion?” asked Harry.  “Sir.”

“I believe we have already established that traditional methods do not work with you.  So saying, today we will be attempting something else.”

Snape stopped speaking and seemed to change without moving.  Harry could not really describe what had happened.  It was like he had gathered a darker aura around himself.

“Explain your knowledge of the Imperious Curse,” Snape asked suddenly.

Harry blinked, “Well,” he started, “it’s one of the three Unforgivables.  The incantation is Imperio but the wand movement is less important since it is completely Dark and so intent is what matters.  Umm, it allows a wizard to control someone’s mind and so their actions too.  Barty Crouch cast it on all of us in fourth year; and You-Know-Who in the graveyard.  I was able to shake it off each time.”

“Do you remember,” asked Snape, darkly, pensively, “how you did so?”

Harry thought about it.  It was a couple of years ago but, “I think I just resisted it, sir.  I can’t really explain any more than that.  I just knew it wasn’t right and fought it.”

“How heroic of you,” Snape said, with more of a sneer than usual.  He stood up and motioned for Harry to do so as well.

“This evening we are going to practice your defence to the Imperious Curse.”

Harry was almost nodding before he realised what Snape had said.  “No!  No, you can’t.”  Harry saw Snape’s wand rising, “Dumbledore wouldn’t, Dumbledore can’t have said--”

“Professor Dumbledore,” and Harry was only tracking Snape’s wand, because surely the Headmaster wouldn’t allow this, “is very much aware of what is happening in these lessons.  As I believe I have told you.”

“N-no!  He wouldn’t let you--” Harry broke off as Snape strode to the fireplace.  A handful of Floo powder was thrown in with force causing the flames to flare green.

“Headmaster Dumbledore’s Office.”

“Ah, Severus, how can I help you?” came Dumbledore’s voice a moment later.

“Mr Potter needs some reassurance,” Snape flashed a look of disgust at Harry.

“Harry, come closer so we can talk,” asked Dumbledore.  Harry knelt before the fire.

“Sn--, Professor Snape says you agreed it’s okay for him to use the Imperious on me?”  Harry could hardly help the plaintive voice the question came out in.  Surely Dumbledore would not have betrayed him like this.  But, said a small voice in his head, he let Crouch do it and he trusts Snape as much as he trusts Moody...

“Harry, I would never wish you to be subjected to Dark magic unnecessarily.  Unfortunately, my boy,” and the sorrow was clear in Dumbledore’s tone, “we have little choice.  It is a shame, but being able to resist the Imperious is a useful skill to perfect in these times, as well as it helping you in your Occlumency studies.  I trust Professor Snape not to abuse his position.”

Harry said nothing.  Dumbledore, the man he looked up to as the greatest wizard ever, was allowing the greasy bastard to take control of his mind. 

“I agree with Professor Snape’s ideas.  If you still have concerns tomorrow, you may visit me for tea at any time.”  The flames returned to their natural colour and Harry remained kneeling in front of the fireplace.

“Stop moping, Potter,” snapped the professor.  “Place your wand on my desk and stand in the centre of floor.” 

“Wandless!”  That was going too far.

“Have you ever needed your wand to resist the Curse before?” asked Snape snidely.  “You will be less tempted to attack me without it.  Safer for the both of us, hmm?”

So Harry, red-faced, did as he was directed.  He could not control his anger; there was a torrent of rage flowing through his veins, his eyes ablaze with fury.  There was not a little fear too but he squashed it with the burning fire.  Arms shaking with the emotion’s force, he stood in the middle of the office like a lamb for the slaughter, abandoned by Dumbledore and facing the ominous presence of Snape.

“Imperio,” whispered Snape.  And the anger was gone.  Harry was surrounded by calm and felt more at peace than he ever had before, this non-thinking was perfection.  And there was a simple command, ‘straighten your tie’.  It was a bit wonky, Harry noticed absently, as his hands moved towards his neck.  Why were teachers always so concerned about their students’ attire?  And now there was another instruction ‘sit down’.  Teachers were always telling their students what to do!  But the office chair was before him, his body ached a little as if he had exerted himself too much, and he could rest in the chair.  Yes, the calm, perfect state, the tiredness of his muscles and the chair.  It all made sense.

Harry sat down.

But now there was a new command, ‘Tell Professor Snape about how you stole the Boomslang skin’.  He had hardly sat down at all, the tiredness had not gone, the calm was still washing over him but he did not want to tell Professor Snape about the Boomslang skin.  Telling Snape would be a bad idea.  ‘Tell Professor Snape about the Boomslang skin’.  Harry opened his mouth, but he did not want to talk about that, he did not want to get Hermione in trouble; he stood mute for a moment.

“I--,” No!  Harry did not want to tell Snape, he did not want this unthinking calm in his head, this was wrong.

“No!”  And the calm disappeared.  His anger was fainter than before, swamped by relief.  He had broken the curse again.

“You did not break free of the Curse immediately.”  There was, strangely, no inflection to the observation.  “Do you know why you followed my first command but not the second?”  Snape’s expression was blank, the man himself a pocket of cold. 

Harry thought about it.  Why had he not resisted more at the beginning?  He tried to remember how he had felt and what had happened.

“I suppose because I couldn’t see anything wrong with sitting down.  I was tired and it made sense.  But I didn’t want to tell you about the Boomslang skin.”  He added hastily, “Which I didn’t steal anyway.”

“I know,” said Snape, smiling evilly.  “You may not have succumbed to the Imperious but your mind was like an open book.  It is a pity that Miss Granger’s resourcefulness tends to the criminal.”

He had used Legilimency too!  Harry wanted to object that that was hardly fair but, then, what else did he expect from the Head of Slytherin?  And now, dear God, he knew about Hermione in second year!

“No need for those pathetic drama queen faces, Potter,” said Snape.  “We will be trying again.  And again.  Until you are able to throw off the curse as soon as it has landed, regardless of the reasonableness of the commands.  Is that clear?”

“Yes, sir,” sighed Harry.

The whispered “Imperio” sounded so much more sinister than the shouted Legilimens incantation ever had.

Once more calm descended and his thoughts stopped.  But, that wasn’t right!  ‘Explain the House system at Hogwarts to Professor Snape.’  Well, that was a strange thing to want to do.  Surely the professor knew about the Houses.  The calm wavered and Harry was almost inclined to dispute the request; however, soon enough the joyful calm was re-imposed.

“Hogwarts has four Houses,” said Harry, without thinking.  “They are Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff and Slytherin...” he continued by explaining about the founders and the attributes associated with each House.  “And then Salazar Slytherin left--,”

“Stop.  Sit down on that chair.”

His teacher was telling him to sit down.  Oh well, no harm in doing that.  He sat down.  ‘Tell Professor Snape how it feels when you catch the snitch.’  The snitch!  That was the most wonderful feeling in the world! 

“It’s the most amazing thing ever!  It’s like the most perfect moment, where everything fits.  It’s exhilarating and...”  Harry would never know how long Snape allowed him to wax lyrical about catching the snitch, though he was sure it was at least a good five minutes.  When he looked back on it later he would be surprised that Snape had never even smirked at his enthusiasm.  Snape retained a blank look throughout.

“Enough.”  The calm that had wavered a little through his enthusiasm for Quidditch was again restored.  “Do a handstand.”  His calm faltered.  Why?  Doing a handstand in Professor Snape’s office was a bit-- ‘Do a handstand.’  Harry stood up and then paused.  Why did he want to do a handstand?  That was silly, he could not do them anyway.  He would look like a fool in front of his worst teacher.  The command came again and an attempt at calming him but this time Harry recognised it for what it was: Snape imposing his will on Harry.  Nevertheless, he took a tentative step forward.

No!  This is ridiculous.  I can’t do handstands; I certainly don’t want to try doing one in front of Snape. 

Harry blinked.  His mind cleared and there was Snape with an arched eyebrow.  Harry took a step back.  He shook his head and then went over to Snape’s desk to pick up his wand.  With it in his hand he felt a lot safer. 

“Pathetic, Potter.  You need to resist as soon as that calm starts descending.  You make it harder for yourself by allowing the Curse to take effect.”

Harry swallowed.  As soon as the Curse was lifted, he had begun to feel embarrassment at the silly things Snape had asked him to do.  He had done nothing humiliating in and of itself, but just knowing he had rattled on for ages about the House system and Quidditch was enough to make him flushed.

“Shall we try again, sir?”

“Eager to be exposed to more Dark magic, Potter?” asked Snape, snidely.  “Very well, Imperio,” and there was more menace in those three syllables than Harry had ever heard from Snape before. 

As the mist descended, Harry thought it was strange that such menace felt almost like a seduction of the senses.  Yes, the internal peace was seductive and could very well be addictive.  Now he was aware that he was under the Curse but he was still enjoying the serenity that it gave him. 

“Kneel before me,” came Snape’s sharp command. 

Harry’s response was instant.  He violently rejected the idea.  However, though his mind was repelling the repulsive order, his body was jerking in indecision.  Harry concentrated on breaking through the calming mist, wanting to be angry.  He felt the professor try and re-impose the peace but he had already regained his mind.

“No!” he shouted.

He was free again.  His mind was his own.  Harry looked down at his wand, speculatively.  Could he get Snape off-guard?  How dare he order that?!  What if Harry had not been able to resist?

“That will be all for today,” said Snape, breaking through Harry’s thoughts and looking at him fiercely, as if he had recognised the train of thought Harry was on.  “We shall be practising this skill until you are able to throw the Imperious off before it sets in.  Now, cast your Patronus.”

Taken aback by the unexpected command, Harry raised his wand.  ‘Hang on,’ he thought, ‘am I still under the Imperious?’  He did not think so but he cast Lumos in any case.  Snape arched his eyebrow at the wandlight but said nothing.  Relieved, Harry conjured his Patronus.

He revelled in the stag’s simple purity.  Snape also seemed to relax a little, the darker aura which Harry had noticed before seeming to dissipate a tad.  After a moment the man signalled for him to dismiss it and Harry did so.

“I believe I said that I would teach you how to send a message with your Patronus.” 

Harry had not forgotten that Snape had only promised to do so if he managed to do well during his lesson.  He decided against mentioning it since it was just as likely that Snape believed it to simply be a useful ability to have. 

 “Sending a message via your Patronus is a simple matter if you are capable of non-verbal spells,” said Snape dryly, indicating his doubts about Harry’s abilities.  “Before casting you must be sure of your message and its destination.  The longer the message, the more difficult it is to direct.  Therefore brevity is key.  Your ‘happy thought’ should ideally include the recipient, otherwise a great deal more effort is required.  The wand movement is slightly different,” Snape demonstrated it, over-exaggerating it for emphasis, “however, more important still is the strong intention with which you imbue your incantation.”

“So, I just think of who I’m sending it to and what I want to say, then cast it?”

“Indeed,” said Snape, dryly.  “Practice by attempting to send a message to me now.”

Harry looked dubious.  How was he supposed to think of a ‘happy thought’ with Snape in it?  The man’s smirk showed he knew what Harry was thinking.  Harry finally decided on the memory from third year when he had knocked his professor out.  Concentrating on that decidedly glorious image, he then thought about his message.  ‘Good evening, Professor,’ should do it he thought.  Respectful and short.  He cast his Patronus as Snape had directed.

A small patch of mist appeared from the end of his wand.  It faded away quickly.  Annoyed at himself he started to try again.

“That is enough, Mr Potter,” said Snape.  “You may practise at the end of our lessons.  Casting a full Patronus is as good as chocolate in relieving the affects of Dark magic.  You are dismissed.”

Harry was surprised that he was being let out after barely half an hour but left the office gladly.  Snape was right; the full stag had helped restore his balance after the Imperious Curses.  Still, he felt even better once he had left the man’s office.