Strange Detentions

Harry rushed through the deserted halls of Hogwarts. Professor Moody would not be pleased with him. It was the first day of class and he was already late. He had no real excuse. From the forgotten alarm spell, to the misplaced textbook, everything had gone wrong this morning. He wondered how the one eyed former Head Auror would take it.

He ripped open the door to the classroom, without knocking, and stepped forward. While he had opened the door, Moody threw a stunner at him. Harry froze, but due to his rushing, he still had forward moving momentum. He toppled forward and his stiff form awkwardly hit the floor.

"Class, what did you learn from this?" Moody asked.

"Don't be late to DADA this year." Lisa Turpin of Ravenclaw answered.

"Quite right, Potter, that will be detention with me tonight. Any other thoughts?"

"That dodging is not en…" Blaise Zabini of Slytherin tried. He was cut of by mimblewimble, the tong tying hex. It was ironically one of the few spells Lockhart had taught them.

"CONSTANT VIGILANCE!" Moody roared. "you never know when a crazy bastard throws a hex at you. This year, we will cover many tools for you to defend yourself, but non of them will matter, if you don't use your senses. If you don't see your enemy, you will be dead before you can say 'Mommy.' Understood?"

Wide eyes stared at Moody.

"Your parents, your grandparents and your great-grandparents, what did they have all in common? … A dark lord showed up in their youth, and a wizarding war broke out. Your great-great-grandparents avoided a dark lord, but instead had to face a goblin rebellion.

"Wizarding Britain is currently at peace, a very shaky peace, in my paranoid opinion. Unless you maintain CONSTANT VIGILANCE! you will be the next target of a death eater. We have had full out war, every twenty to thirty years, for a long time, so don't be surprised if things shake up again.

"Now, three of the favorite tools of all dark lords are the unforgivables. In my capacity as former Head Auror, I have the privilege of being able to perform the unforgivables, in a teaching role. This should not leave you to believe that you can try to cast them yourself. If either myself or any other teacher of Hogwarts finds you casting one of them, it is an automatic expulsion and a one way ticket to Azkaban."

A dramatic pause.

"Who here can tell me about the famous killing curse?"

Moody proceeded to explain the intricacies of the three unforgivables. It was obvious that he was both an engaging and a demanding teacher, if at times a bit brutal. Moody demonstrated the curses on a magical variety of tarantula. It was nerve wreaking to see a deadly tarantula do eight legged tap dance.

Harry was astounded in how much detail Moody was willing to give about the unforgivables. If he had not waned them about Azkaban, Harry could have sworn that Moody wanted them to try the curses on their own time. Harry was fairly sure that he had enough information to use at least the imperio. The other two he knew enough about, but he was not sure that he had enough hatred for anyone to be able to use them. Harry made sure that he took good notes.

"Now theory is all well and good, but that doesn't teach you anything practical. This is why I am going to cast the imperio on each of you and see if you can fight it. This first time I have no hope of your success, but with time some of you will be able to fight it. This is why we will do this exercise periodically, throughout the year. Mr. Goyle, you are up first."

Moody now made various students do silly or embarrassing things. Goyle serenaded Malfoy, Morag MacDougal did a tap dance, and Hermione Granger warned everyone of the dangers of not cleaning teeth properly.

Then Harry was on the hot seat.

"Imperio" Moody intoned over Harry. Instantly, Harry felt light headed. Colors were not so much brighter, but stronger. Green was greener and blue was bluer. He had this great idea.

He really should walk over to Millicent Bulstrode and give her a kiss.

Following this impulse, Harry stood up and took a few steps in her direction. As he moved towards her, he thought of another witch. And he began to wonder. He had never wanted to kiss Bulstrode before, why now?

With an effort of the will, Harry stopped. He was confused. The nice colors became threatening. Somehow everything turned gray. His thoughts could not leave Bulstrode alone. He closed his eyes. With all his might he tried to get some normal thought through his head.

'I … I … am …'

But instead his brain constantly echoed 'Bulstrode,' 'kiss,' and ' Millicent.'

He tried harder, with a simpler thought:

'I … like … Quidditch!'

With this simple statement, one that was truly his, everything snapped into place. Colors looked proper again, and the fire to kiss Bulstrode extinguished.

He looked around. His classmates waited for him to do something embarrassing. The glee on Malfoy's face was disturbing to witness.

"Why did you stop?" Moody questioned, his sole eyebrow raised.

"I was able to think a thought of my own, and that broke the curse somehow."

Moody's magical eye spun around disoriented. "You are full of surprises, Mr. Potter, what did you think of, that was able to break the curse?"

"Nothing complex, Professor. I just … I'm not sure, it was … strange."

Both Slytherins and Ravenclaws eyed him with confusion and jealousy in their eyes. Harry noticed the smile in Granger's face, though.

"Thank you Mr. Potter, next up … mm… Mr. Malfoy."

Within five seconds Millicent Bulstrode received her kiss, from the heir of the Malfoys. Harry was ashamed to say that he laughed loudest. He felt bad for Bulstrode, what had she done to deserve this? But Malfoy's face was just priceless. Red as a Weasley, as they like to say.

HPU

As Harry walked to the Great Hall for lunch, he ran into Granger.

"Hi Potter, nice job at DADA today. That was amazing. How did you throw of the imperio? I was completely taken by the vivid colors."

"Hi Granger. I can't really explain. I noticed the colors too, but I just was certain that something was off, I don't know how I was able to toss it. But if I was able to do it, I'm sure you will be able to fight it off soon, too."

"Well, hopefully. What do you think of the whole Triwizard Tournament?"

"I don't really care for it. The whole Tournament could be canceled as far as I am concerned, I much rather have Quidditch." he replied.

"I heard that Zabini is setting up a betting pool. Right now the odds are favoring Jordan Kettleburn of Ravenclaw and Cedric Diggory of Hufflepuff. Angelina Johnson also has some good odds."

"Good for them, I guess. Do you think you will bet for someone?"

Granger grinned, "I'm not really a betting person. But you have by far the best odds in our year. It seems you are number five or six over all. The way the odds are, I might even bet on you. Your past history speaks for you to be one of the three."

"Your loss, I will certainly not attempt to get into the tournament."

With that they entered the Great Hall. They split up to go to their respective tables. These little encounters were usually really enjoyable. They kept them short enough that no one would suspected them of being friends, but Harry knew.

HPU

The door to Moody's room was open. With a knock, Harry entered the study of the Defense Against the Dark Arts Master. This was a better description then to call it Moody's study. For at least thirty years, no occupant had stayed more then one year. It was no surprise that the room screamed 'hotel room.' The only item in the room that clearly belonged to Moody was a trunk with seven drawers, stacked on a low table in the corner furthest from the door.

"Close the door behind you, Potter." Moody commanded, without looking up from the parchment.

Harry followed the instructions and then stepped in front of the table, awaiting further instructions regarding detention. He was somewhat curious what detention would look like from this bizarre teacher.

Moody finished whatever he was doing, and looked up.

"Thank you, for giving me this easy reason to call you to my office. I don't really want to give you detention. I was just looking for an unconscious way of getting a private talk with you. I have heard about you a lot. Dumbledore doesn't shut up about you. So I wanted to get a read on you myself. How have your years at Hogwarts been?"

"If Professor Dumbledore told you so much, then you know already that I tend to be in trouble with deadly threats."

"Getting down to the point, I see. Yes, these threats are what I wanted to talk about specifically. What are you doing to prepare for any future threats?"

"Future threats? … I'm a student…"

"Come on, Potter, I know you are not Granger, but I didn't take you to be stupid. Every year you had to face more than the average wizard has seen in a lifetime. What makes you think that this year will be different?"

"… I … guess I was hoping that …"

"Here is to hoping." Moody raised his ever present flask and toasted towards Harry, and took a swig. "But seriously, I want you to prepare for the Triwizard Tournament. Training for it should help you, no matter if you get selected or not."

"Professor, I have no intention of entering the Tournament."

"Did you choose to face Voldemort as a first year?"

"…"

"The choice is not yours, Potter. You have to understand, you are going to be in trouble for the rest of your life. You are one of these unfortunate souls that history revolves around. In a few centuries, there probably will be legends about you, like the 'Tale of Three Brothers.' All there is for you to do is to be ready for it. CONSTANT VIGILANCE!"

"Constant vigilance, fine, what do you want me to do?"

"I want you to start a daily work out routine. Magic and physical fitness have nothing to do with each other, but having physical stamina in a fight can go a long way, especially if your magical powers are evenly matched. Here," he handed Harry a rolled up parchment, "this is the work out routine that Aurors are expected to follow. I don't expect you to be able to do them right now, but start working on them. In a few months you should be able to get to this level."

Moody got out of his seat and went to his trunk. He pulled out the second drawer from the bottom and stepped inside. To Harry's surprise he started to disappear into the drawer. "Come, come, what are you waiting for. I want to see what you are made of."

Harry followed Moody into the trunk. They stepped into a large room, maybe twice the size of a regular class room. The room was barren, the walls seemed padded. Harry looked around in awe. He wished he had a trunk like this.

"This is my exercise room. It's handy to be independent of the local conditions. I would like to see where you are at."

Without further explanation, Moody started to throw curses and hexes at Harry.

Harry was not confident in his shields, and because Moody started at a moderate pace, it was easier for him to dodge his curses by evasive movements. This tired him out quickly and Moody picked up the pace.

Soon, his jumping and twisting was not enough. Moody increased his rate of firing, while he became more and more winded. A nasty bruiser hit him in the calf. He would be hobbling for the next couple of days.

Harry knew when Moody unleashed three stunners at once, all in different angles, that he could not avoid them all. Maybe if his calf was good, but not with this handicap.

He stepped to the right, to deflect two of them, but also raised his protego shield, which just barely stood firm.

Moody was not idle, he closed the distance, so that Harry could not evade as much.

Harry saw his chance, while Moody moved, he threw a stunner at him. He did not want to go down with at least having thrown some offensive spell.

Moody smiled and swatted the spell away. Without an interruption in his wand movement, he continued to cast his own spells.

Harry was befuddled, he had never seen this done, how was it possible? Distracted by this new style of defense, Harry failed to either raise a shield or to evade the oncoming spell barrage. A nose bleed hex and a stunner hit him in quick succession.

A few moments later, Moody revived him, and stopped his nose bleeding.

"I have my own critique, but I want to hear first what you think. How do you think you did?"

"Mmm…, I think I did all right with evading your initial spell chains. I got frustrated though, with not being able to attack you."

"You are right, I am surprised at your ability to get out of the way of even several spells at the same time. I wonder how you got this skill?"

"I don't know, good genes?" Harry got uncomfortable. He suspected that the Dursleys 'free' use of knocks hat honed his reflexes.

"This is also where you can most easily improve on your own. If you do the Aurors exercises I gave you, you will be in excellent shape soon, and then you will not tire out so fast. That should make you quite a bit more competitive. Ok?"

"I'll start that."

"Where I was really disappointed was in your spell casting. Or more specifically, in your lack of it. I also want to see you work on some spell chains. When you dodge a lot, this leaves you free to throw your own spells at your opponent. But for you to cast and move at the same time you need to have the spell down to perfection and have them in route memory. As your homework, take out your DADA textbook, go to the index and look up five spells that you don't know that you think you could use in a fight. Master them. We will meet same time in a week. I want to see those five spells then."

HPU

A few days later, on Thursday, fourth year Slytherins had potions together with Gryffindor.

Class had started on a bad note, Snape was clearly in a bad mood when he entered the room. His first action was to explode at Ron Weasley. Admittedly, Weasley had been more focused on telling Dean Thomas a joke, then on getting ready for class, but fifty points from Gryffindor in the first week was … harsh.

Everyone was therefore relieved when Snape seemed to clam down, as they began to brew their first potion of the year.

Harry and Theodore Nott worked well together, and the Potionsmaster seemed to not mind them.

Harry was concentrated on stirring the cauldron properly when suddenly a huff of smoke puffed up.

He could not avoid inhaling a bit of the smoke. His nose immediately began to fill up. It did not run, but it was impossible to breath normally.

Harry tried to blow his nose, but it would not come out.

He raised his hand.

"Yes, Potter, what is it?" Snape snapped.

"Brofessor, gould I go to 'adame Bomfry, my nose is gloged?"

"I see nothing wrong, Potter. Finish your potion."

Not wanting to get into trouble with this irritated teacher, Harry returned to his potion. But due to the stuffed nose, he had a hard time breathing.

Snape was evidently getting annoyed with him. He repeatedly glared at him.

"Potter, it is clear that you are not taking this seriously. How do you think your classmates can make their usual mediocre potions, with you trumpeting around like this. Cease your loud breathing this instance."

"But Brofessor…" Harry began.

"Silence, I don't want to hear from you, brat. Detention with me, … mh I can't tonight, … I guess you will have to ruin my Friday. Tomorrow at 7 pm."

The Slytherin side of the classroom was silent. This was unheard of. Snape giving a Slytherin detention, and for this?

The Gryffindors had a hard time containing their amusement.

HPU

Harry knocked on the door to the office of his least favorite professor.

"Come in." Is sounded from inside the room.

With a breath to brace himself, Harry entered.

Professor Snape sat behind his desk and looked much calmer then during class today.

"Potter, take a seat. I have something to share with you."

Harry did as he was told. He looked at Snape, right into the dark eyes, and suddenly a burst of pain burst through his head. Memories of the Dursleys, of Quirrell and the traps, of the Basilisk and of petrified Hermione, of dementors and of Sirius flooded his consciousness.

Then he blinked, and it stopped.

Snape looked startled at Harry, for a moment, and then put his Slytherin mask back on.

"What I just did is called active Legilimency. It allows the Legilimens to read any and all memories of someone else." Snape explained. "There is also passive Legilimency, in which the Legilimens only picks up what the target is currently thinking, not actively hunting for a particular memory. As you felt, active Legilimency is very painful and disorienting to the target. In contrast, when passive Legilimency is used well, the target will typically not know that he is targeted at all. For a Legilimens, such as myself and Professor Dumbledore, it is easy to read the mind of any one not knowledgeable about this art. Professor Dumbledore instructed me to instruct you in this art, and in its counter art, Occlumency, the art of defending ones mind against the intrusion of both active and passive Legilimency. I was initially very worried that this would be a pointless waste of time. I had little hopes that you would be capable of this nuanced art. This fear was somewhat alleviated by the story I picked up yesterday. If you were able to shake off the imperio on the first try, and that seems to be so, then you have great potential for the mind arts, after all. Any questions?"

"Yes, I have some questions, Professor. Why does Professor Dumbledore want me to learn this? Does everyone learn this?"

"As for your first question, I have a few ideas, but until you have mastered Occlumency sufficiently, I have no choice but to refrain from sharing them. As to the second, no. Very few are able to learn this art, and it is not generally taught.

"Now, in order for you to learn how to defend against a skilled Legilimens, you have to know how to detect an attack and order your mind in a way that you can defend it. After that you can build a sort of memory castle, a bunker if you will, behind which you can hide all your secrets. If you allow me to do some building, I can greatly reduce the time you will need to learn."

Harry looked at Snape uncertainly. He was not sure that he could trust him. Snape was behaving oddly today.

"If it adds anything to your decision, some of this will help your memory, no matter if you can complete the process or not. It is not a complete loss either way."

Harry trusted Dumbledore, who trusted Snape. He had seen this multiple times in the past three years.

"Very well." Harry sighed.

"Before we begin, I have to inform you about the legality of Occlumency. The Ministry of Magic has officially banned any Legilimency and Occlumency from being taught apart certain Ministry officials. In order to learn it, one needs a permit signed by the Minister himself. You don't have one of these. I don't need to tell you that this means no one can know about this meeting. Including your friends. If one does not have even rudimentary knowledge of Legilimency, it is just too unsafe to have this information available. Also I would advise you to not look any ministry official in the eyes, unless you become an intermediate Occlumen. It is not complete protection, but it helps against most probes."

Harry nodded. But before he could really think about how illegal this was he could think no more. Snape had again entered his mind violently.

Harry had many painful experiences throughout his life.

Vernon Dursley had starved him too many times, beaten him senseless at others.

During the fight with Quirrell, possessed by Voldemort, Harry's hands had burned like a living flame.

After the bite of the basilisk, his arm had stung hellishly.

The deadness of the near dementor kiss had been enough to knock Harry out.

But of all of his painful experiences, Harry swore that the next hour, of Snape wandering through his mind, tearing some things down, moving others around, and building entirely new structures, was his most painful experience to this date.

There was a continuous scream looked behind his lips by Snape's skill. Harry felt violated on multiple levels. All his mind, his soul, his being was open to Snape and Snape worked through them clinically. His most intimate feelings were bare to his most hated professor.

Harry could taste the iron texture of blood after a little while. His nose had started to bleed, and he could not move or stop it.

His head was burning and exploding for an entire hour.

When Snape finally withdrew his mental probe and closed his eyes to disrupt it, Harry fell forward and blacked out.