Harry stormed out of Moody's classroom as soon as the bell rang, walking too fast for anyone to catch up with him. His knees were aching from slamming into the desk multiple times, and his hands were shaking so hard he couldn't get them to stop.
How the hell could Dumbledore approve of that? Putting underage kids under the Imperius curse! No matter whether it was good for them to know what it felt like, it was wildly illegal, and they definitely should have been sent some sort of consent form for their guardians to sign.
He was furious and in pain and his head still felt all funny from being Imperiused multiple times, and he didn't even know where he was heading as long as it was away. Which is why he was utterly baffled when he found himself in the dungeons, outside Snape's office. He bit his lip; Sirius and Remus did say that he could go to Snape if he was having problems during the school year. The man had actually been fairly decent to Harry in Potions class so far, all things considered.
Harry knocked cautiously. "Enter," came the curt response. Harry eased the door open, watching the Potions professor's eyebrows rise. "Potter."
Harry opened his mouth to speak, but Snape raised a hand first, lifting his wand and performing several warding charms. Only then did he lower his hand with a gesture for Harry to speak. "Do you know what Professor Moody is doing in his classes, sir?"
"I know he recently performed all three Unforgivables," Snape said with a disparaging curl of his lip. "I do not know if anything more recent has occurred."
"He's putting us under the Imperius curse." Snape dropped his quill. Harry continued. "He says that Dumbledore wants us to know how it feels, so we can learn to fight it."
One of Snape's long-fingered hands rose to clasp the bridge of his nose, and he let out a frustrated sigh. "Of course he does," he muttered derisively. "Potter, you're shaking." He got to his feet quickly, urging Harry into the chair opposite his desk.
"I almost threw it off the first time," Har ry told him. "Professor Moody put me under it another four times, until I could ignore his orders completely."
When he looked up a few moments later, Snape was thrusting a vial of Pepper-Up potion his way. "Five Imperius curses in a half hour period? You're lucky you can still form sentences," he muttered. "What the hell is he playing at? Dumbledore's Golden Boy is no good to him with his brain leaking out of his ears."
After the potion, Harry immediately felt better. "No one else in the class was able to throw it off. I think he just wanted to get the better of me."
"I told Albus it was a foolish idea to bring that madman out of retirement," Snape said. "He's had one too many curses to the head."
"What am I supposed to do?" Harry asked helplessly. "I can't go to Dumbledore because it was his idea. But I can't go to anyone else because then it'll be obvious to Dumbledore I'm not obeying him anymore." A thought occurred to him, and he froze. "Will he know I got rid of the Compulsion charm? Since I was able to shake the Imperius?" The charm was supposed to make him more suggestible, after all.
"If anything, this probably works in our favour. He'll believe his Compulsion charm is so strong it overrode even Moody's Imperius," Snape assured him. "But I agree, you can't say anything about it." He pursed his lips, silent for a moment. "I'm sorry to say, Potter, that I think you're going to have to just keep at it. With any luck, once you can throw off the curse every time, Moody will get bored and move on. And it is a good skill to have. Even if the methods are… questionable." He took the empty vial from Harry's still-trembling fingers, setting it aside. "Just be careful; repeated short-term exposure to the Imperius curse can be dangerous. I want you to come to me if you feel any unusual symptoms, or if he puts you under more than three times in a row again."
"Yes, sir." Harry bit his lip. "Not Madam Pomfrey?" Snape frowned in response.
"Until I have ascertained who on the staff is under Dumbledore's thumb, I think it best we keep this to ourselves," he said eventually. "Regardless of Poppy's loyalties, I don't like the idea of you spending any length of time in the Hospital Wing. It's much easier for the headmaster to access you there, with plenty of privacy in case he decides you need a little more magical control." The thought of Dumbledore cursing him while he was asleep made Harry sick to his stomach. "Going a whole school year without a trip to the Hospital Wing is going to be a tall order, sir," he remarked with a weak laugh. Snape's lips quirked.
"I gave you those potions for a reason, Potter. And if you need assistance, you can always come to me. I assume that map of yours will show you the way to my private quarters?" Harry nodded. "Then you have permission, in an emergency, to come to me there if needed. Don't abuse that permission, Potter."
"I won't," Harry promised, and he meant it. Snape was on their side. Like Sirius said, he was basically family now. Harry didn't want to do anything to upset the truce they seemed to have reached.
"I want you to sit there for twenty minutes," Snape instructed. "Read if you must, but I need to make sure you aren't going to have any aftershocks. You can leave when it's time for dinner."
"Yes, sir." Harry dug through his bag for his book, but he didn't open it, instead leaning back in the chair and letting his eyes fall shut. If anyone told him last year he'd feel so relaxed in Snape's office of all places, he would've laughed himself sick, but it was just so nice to be somewhere quiet. Somewhere no one expected anything of him, or wanted answers. A little bit of the refuge he'd had at Seren Du. God, he missed that place. It was going to be a long, long school year.
.-.-.
Once the announcement of the arrival of the foreign schools went out, it was all anyone could talk about. Even Draco, when he and Harry met up a few nights before Halloween, slipped in a mention of the two French girls he'd met over the summer, and how they wouldn't be coming as they were still underage. Harry couldn't find it in him to be sad about that.
At last, they were all gathered in the Entrance Hall, which was gleaming after its minor makeover. "This way, outside! Stay in line," McGonagall instructed, fussing and scolding until all Gryffindors were in neat rows by year group outside the school. The other houses were organised the same way, their heads of houses keeping everyone in line. They waited.
Harry was reluctantly impressed by the arrival of both the delegations. Mostly he was glad for the warming charms Remus had put on his school cloak before he'd packed. When the students had emerged from both the carriage and the ship, they all started to head back inside; until the Durmstrang delegation grew close enough for everyone to see their famous member.
"Viktor Krum!" The whisper echoed through the crowd of students; Harry saw Krum duck his head and forge onwards, resolutely ignoring the mutters of his name. sympathise there.
squeals Harry
and could
"Harry, it's Krum!" Ron hissed, as if Harry might not have noticed.
"For heaven's sake, Ron, he's only a quidditch player," Hermione said with a roll of her eyes. Ron looked at her like she'd gone mental.
Harry rolled his eyes as they descended into quiet bickering, jogging forwards a couple of steps until he was between Neville and Parvati instead. Parvati was still starry-eyed, but she was a little more composed about it. "I knew he was young, but I had no idea he was still in school!" "Imagine trying to keep up your grades alongside a professional quidditch career," Harry muttered with a grimace.
They all settled at their house tables, and waited for the foreign students to choose their places. The Beauxbatons students decided on the Ravenclaw table, while the Durmstrang delegation — following Krum's lead — made for the Slytherin table. Harry didn't know what was funnier; watching Draco trying to play it cool as Viktor Krum sat right next to him, or watching Ron quietly fume about it.
Harry studied the foreign delegations curiously; each school had clearly sent only the students who were of age, as they had about fifteen students each. Beauxbatons seemed to be a pretty even mix of boys and girls, while he could only see two girls in the Durmstrang group. Dumbledore stood at his podium, and a hush fell over the room.
All he did was greet their guests and declare the start of the feast, and Harry was surprised at the number of foreign dishes on offer. The house elves had outdone themselves!
"Oh, you should try this, boys," Parvati urged, gesturing to a large crock pot filled with some sort of stew. "It's gyuvech, I had it in Bulgaria once with my family. It's delicious." Harry and Neville shared a glance, then shrugged, each spooning some of the stew onto their plates. The whole point of the tournament was cultural sharing, after all.
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